Extended Research
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After my initial visits to the Drawing Room in Unit 1, I felt the extended research was an exciting chance to partake in informative research and began thinking about all the different ways I might go about it. Some of the many directions I travelled on my research journey included: researching rubbings at the British museum; I thought about archeology collections and archives that housed rubbings; I thought about how my original degree in classics might be helpful in approaching material collections such as ancient mosaics or other historically important sites; I considered historic sites and features such as the steps of the Bodleian library at oxford university; I attempted to research about the possibility of accessing abandoned buildings and even looked into haunted spaces in London that might have some significance. All these ideas are exciting and perhaps are worth further consideration.
Allegra Pesenti Interview
My first breakthrough with an external partner was to contact Allegra Pesenti, who agreed to a written interview. I managed to get her email after contacting the Hammer Museum, where she used to work. Pesenti was the curator of the exhibition and subsequent publication “Apparitions: Frottages and Rubbings from 1860 to Now, Feb 7–May 31, 2015”. This text was important for my research, and I had many questions since reading it. The interview went as follows:
Tom Harper:
In a time when touch is so transgressive, how relevant is bringing back a sense of touch and connection in the world through art?
Allegra Pesenti:
I think a sense of touch and connection are forever vital to art, and of course it is all the more relevant at the heels of the pandemic in which we have been physically distanced from both human and material ‘closeness’.
Tom Harper:
I’m interested in how you came to select the artists that you did and the works that you showed. Perhaps you could talk a little bit more about what drew you to these artists and works?
Allegra Pesenti:
Artists immersed in the practice of rubbing and related work appeared in my path as soon as I started thinking about the subject both historically and in the present. A revelatory moment was Jennifer Bornstein’s exhibition at Gavin Brown’s in New York city, in which she rubbed the entire surface of the floors of the gallery and placed the sheets of paper on the walls, creating a monumental reversal of space and sense of disorientation. I was also struck by how the marks of the floors emphasized the site’s age and history, as if she were retrieving its ghosts from its inner linings. Bornstein’s rubbing practice evolved from abstraction to figuration and remained a main point of inspiration throughout my research on the subject.
Tom Harper:
You write about traces in the exhibition and how recording objects, surfaces or places can reveal and assume a new presence as rubbings. I am very interested in rubbing to reveal void spaces such as cracks, scores or the tiniest marks of wear and tear. Perhaps you could tell me more about frottage’s power to transcend its subject matter and create new meanings?
Allegra Pesenti:
There is an element of wonder and unexpectedness in rubbings which is what made the practice so appealing to Surrealist artists. Max Ernst found his deepest fantasies in the grains of the wood of his floorboards. A comb easily morphed into an animal’s body. I think that ability to ’transfigure’ objects and to see beyond their common forms and uses is at the core of this form of artistic expression.
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Tom Harper:
Is there any way that you think rubbing and frottage has changed and developed as a contemporary art practice since the exhibition?
Allegra Pesenti:
Artists continue to experiment with rubbing and frottage and the practice continues to stretch into new territories - whether sensory, physical, or performative. The Jazz musician and composer Jason Moran traces the taps of his keyboard onto paper and creates some of the most poignant and deeply moving ‘recordings’ of his sounds and improvisations.
Tom Harper:
And what is it about rubbing that draws artists time and time again to use this most basic and ancient of drawing methods; What is it about this process that keeps it relevant in contemporary art and in particular drawing?
Allegra Pesenti:
Perhaps the very fact that it is so basic and accessible, yet also deeply layered and complex in its possibilities.
Tom Harper: Since Apparitions, frottage and rubbings are being used as the mainstay of artists like Ingrid Calame and strongly featuring in the work of high-profile artists such as Kiki Smith and Catherine Anyango Grünewald. Have any artists stood out for you since the exhibition that you think are important and that you would have included in the exhibition if it had been put on today?
Allegra Pesenti:
As I mention above, Jason Moran for sure. I love the work of Kiki Smith and would certainly include her if I were to do a take two of this exhibition. There are so many artists I would have loved to include but couldn’t for reasons of space and accessibility…so I’ll save that list for the next iteration!
Raquel Serrano Interview
Raquel Serrano is a fine art doctorate student at the university of seville. She was awarded a fellowship in print at Camberwell College of Art in the spring term of 2022. She uses rubbings and frottage and plans to continue to do so as part of her research. I asked her if she was willing to do a short, informal interview and she most gratifyingly agreed.
Here is what transpired:
Tom Harper:
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What is it about frottage that excites you and how did you come to see this as an important part of your practice?
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Raquel Serrano:
I became interested in frottage from my PhD supervisor María del Mar Bernal who wrote a great article on the subject. (https://tecnicasdegrabado.es/2020/el-frottage-todo-esta-en-el-roce). I am interested in experimentation with the printed image and how printing can turn into drawing. The images produced by say rubbings replaces the reality of what was there. I want to question what the reality of an image is. I like how rubbings can look like quite abstract images but are in fact highly representational. So, the image is the surface, but the surface is moved from its original place. I’m playing with our concept of an image and the concept of perception.
Tom Harper:
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What new materials are you using to make your rubbings and why?
Raquel Serrano:
I have been working with canvas recently and I have found it can be very pragmatic in a lot of situations, especially when you are outside and rubbing on the ground. Before I was working with large sheets of paper, using a sponge and graphite powder to apply the rubbing. I have found that, unlike paper, fabrics like canvas are both more durable, and much more pragmatic when you are outside. They will not ruin if they get wet and they can even be machine washed if you apply fixating beforehand. They do not weigh much so they can easily be transported, and it allows you to work in large formats since it is difficult to find paper rolls of that magnitude. I also found that you can add eyelets and can easily be stretched out in a space like a painting. This makes them very pragmatic for very large rubbings in a way that paper just doesn’t easily allow for, especially when thinking about hanging them in a space. They also have a more haptic element to them; in that they can become quite sculptural. You can fold, crumple and manipulate them in many ways.
Raquel, Serrano, Transfer the surface, Frottage graphite on canvas, 100 x 375 cm 2022
Tom Harper:
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What artists have you researched and what is it about their work that you find fascinating?
Raquel Serrano:
I am interested in the works of Juan Carlos Bracho who has rubbed the walls of a gallery space with graphite. By drawing directly onto the walls in this way, he creates beautiful ephemeral drawings, that get erased from the space after the exhibition ends. I am interested in the imprintment of the land itself and have appreciation for the work of Andrea Gregson, who takes large scale rubbings of rock formations. All these artists reflect on the space itself, moving the surfaces, manipulating them, folding them and turning the images of reality into three-dimensional elements, which invite the viewer to inhabit the image
This interview was great for considering my methods and new choices of materials and the artists who use them. I experimented with using canvas for rubbings as I may wish to use it in the future if I go outside or for works that need to be hardier and need to be on the floor or manipulated in some way. (see process and critical reflection).
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Taking rubbings at the Type Archive
After doing some research to see where I might find some historic printing machinery to further my research, I came across The Type Archive, which housed an assemblage of historic printing presses. I spoke with the curator, Sallie Morris, and to my delight I was given not only a tour of the archive but also allowed to take some rubbings of the machinery.
The archive has some truly amazing artifacts from the past and it was fascinating to delve deeper into the history of print. I settled on the Wharfdale-style machine called the “Defiance”, which was made in Yorkshire by inventor David Payne back in the 1860’s. This machine revolutionised the printing trade and it was an incredible honour and with great excitement that I undertook the task of producing a print of the press that had created perhaps millions of prints itself. The extra weight of historical importance of the machine was something I had never been able to engage with before with a space or object and it really added to the interest and significance of the work for me.
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Rubbing the Wharfdale not only helped me further develop my visual language but also formed a greater emotional connection with these archaic, increasingly rare artifacts. This feeling was only enhanced by the knowledge that the archive was losing its funding and would no longer be open to visitors. The very machine I was rubbing would soon be stored away somewhere indefinitely, behind closed doors. I came closer to understanding why these machines have emotional significance and importance. The arts and culture are under increasing threat and these prints could perhaps be a way of showing what we are losing as a society.
The experience of this enigmatic space and its relics, dripping with the history and the importance of Britain’s cultural and technological heritage makes me keen for further opportunities. There are other institutions that I could attempt to contact based on connections I have made with the curator there. I feel trying to approach collections, archives and institutions of this sort could be an important part of my practice in the future.
White Chapel Gallery
I have been interested in what it is about the studio and creative spaces that fascinate me and why they are worth commemorating through my interventions. I wished to contextualise my understanding of the wider debate surrounding the studio in contemporary art practice and so after doing some research I went to Whitechapel Gallery to gain further insight. I was most fortunate that it was having an exhibition that touched on this issue. The exhibition itself, A century of the artist’s studio 1920-2020 was very illuminating, concerning itself with the notion of the studio space, both as a public space to showcase the artists identity or as a private space to "take refuge, reflect, experiment and even cannibalise the studio itself." (see contexts to read more about how this important exhibition helped my practice).
TOM HARPER
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RELEVANT CONTEXTUAL RESEARCH
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Leonard Diepeveen, Timothy Van Laar, Shiny Things: Reflective Surfaces and Their Mixed Meanings
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Diepeveen, L., & Laar, T. v. (2021). Shiny Things. Intellect Books Ltd.
From the book Shiny Things (2021), I have tremendously broadened my understanding of "shininess" and I have thought deeply about its overall impact on my work. Shininess continues to attract us. It “stimulates and seduces” (Diepeveen & Laar, 2021,. P.15), dancing across our vision in a way that distracts and entertains as we try to reestablish our perceptual footing. Scientists believe that human beings have an inherent evolutionary attraction to shininess (based on the sparkling shine of water) (Ibid., p.13). It has an inherent transcendent and precious quality that makes people want to reach out and touch it. These inherent effects have had historical and cultural consequences. Shiny objects, up until the very recent past, have been highly sought-after luxury items. Even the maintenance of precious shiny things such as rare metals, for example silver and gold, requires expensive labour to polish them to a shine. When these metals were used in ecclesiastical settings as art, they created spectacular awe in the viewer that bordered on a sublime experience. I found it very interesting when the author brought up the example of the maintenance of the Tomb of St. John of Nepomuk (Ibid., p.29) about the labour involved therein:
“cleaning and polishing, rubbing and coaxing the sharpest gleam from metal was part of the cares of the Treasury Chapel. It was labour that redeemed those surfaces. The shine itself is the surplus of labour, energy made visible, pure profit expended”.
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That historical connection is important in the making of my work. I redeem surfaces in the eyes of my audience, I impart labour through my obsessive attention to them. The shininess helps make visible this “energy” from the act of rubbing, and much like polishing, this helps give them value, life and meaning. It creates an idea of worth that is steeped in the historical precedent of acts of manual touching that produce shine.
The shiny in Modernity
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In the 20th century shininess has become much more available, so available in fact that it is almost ubiquitous. This has denigrated the value of the shiny from its previous historical associations. However, as Diepeveen rightly points out, “shininess’ ubiquity suggests its importance” (Ibid., p.6). It still captivates us, we are drawn to it, “it sells” (Ibid., p.39). Using a graphite pencil to rub the surfaces in my work gives a graphite sheen that imparts a certain preciousness and attractiveness. There is however irony in creating value in an object with one of the cheapest and most omnipresent drawing tools at our disposal. There's a dichotomy between this polishing of the paper’s surface and engendering value, the historic use of materials, and the ubiquity of the materials now. I believe that this contradiction is “clarified with cultural and contextual knowledge” (Ibid., p.36), the choice of subject and its rationale is what helps to differentiate superficial shininess from the art object. Ordinary materials are used to create a flourish to the surfaces that are taken for granted and in doing so it gives the audience experience of a different way of looking at the world but in very identifiable terms materially.
Shininess has become so ubiquitous that it is almost utterly replicable today, even in the digital world. In terms of CGI there has become an “epistemological uncertainty, where the seams between the real and the invented are unlocatable” (Ibid., p.76). This has put humanity in an “odd place...where it is possible that mimesis as a concept has ended” (Ibid., p.78). This has made me reflect on what the haptic and rubbings can provide in terms of mimesis. Touch has been consistently replaced by the flat image over time, getting to the point now where even the physical flat image is being replaced by screens, leaving us without a clear means of seeing proportion, scale and the true physical properties of what is represented (Dean, 2018). There is something about seeing shininess, the physical experience of an embodied artwork about rubbing and shining, that still cannot be replicated by digital means.
Shiny Purity and Shiny Clean
Another important aspect of shininess that I found informative was the idea that shiny objects and surfaces are a sign for purity, efficiency and cleanliness. Since modernity, mass production of shiny, smooth objects has become (Diepeveen & Laar, 2021) omnipresent, especially in architecture, “lacking reference to the hand (Ibid., p.103). Shiny things are ”generic” and ”defined by their lack”. They are a signifier for the triumph of the impersonal, disembodied world over texture and rough imperfections that exist in the real world - anything that is ”unique and personal, that reveal[s] a history.” Shiny things represent impermeability to time, they assert their ”transcendence over physical decay, and even the physical“ (Ibid., p.83). In the context of this representation, shininess can be cold, empty and alienating, it has no imprints or history. It is also a signifier for authoritarianism (Ibid., p.22), shininess, cleanliness is in direct opposition to the ”messy patina of daily life” (Ibid., p.101). It is this aspect of shininess that makes it all the more ironic that I use graphite and shininess in my work to emphasize texture and the traces of human presence. In a sense this contradiction is railing against the world of monotony of massed produced shiny surfaces. Shininess stands for purity, and I am inverting that meaning, using shininess to highlight the impurities and marks of decay of the lived world. That irony is compounded by inverting the original function of polishing to create cleanliness. My rubbing is adding graphite, a dirty mineral from the earth to a semi-gloss white paper surface. I am wiping surfaces with ink and adding pigment into weathered shiny plastic.
Consumerism
My work also seeks to reject the “technological and consumerist sublimes” that make use of shininess to entice and seduce us (Ibid., p.140). Touch here becomes a transgressive act, railing against the smooth, efficient supposedly utopian shininess of the modern and digital age. The repressive force of shininess (Ibid., p.106), that promises us new and shinier technology without “encumbrances and history”, is subsumed by its own weapons. This consumerist oversimplification, to the denigration of touch, is rejected in favour of a world that is not simple, with all the enriching chaotic variety that entails.
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Shininess’ is an important tool, that can be used to create “discourse”, make one become “inordinately aware of the typical properties of the thing that is exaggerated” as well as “how the excessive thing usually functions, when it is not amplified“ (Diepeveen & Laar, 2021., p.161). In short, it is the perfect tool for making people consider the think again about what they see and think they know about the world.
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References
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Dean, T. (2018). Tacita Dean : selected writing, complete works & filmography 1992-2018. National Portrait Gallery.
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Diepeveen, L., & Laar, T. v. (2021). Shiny Things. Intellect Books Ltd.
The Pencil Museum
The Pencil Museum, Keswick
As part of my research into materiality, I became interested in graphite and pencils as a mark making tool. I came across the Derwent Pencil Museum, in which I learnt a great deal about the historic production of graphite, its properties and pencil making history. The Museum was founded in close proximity to the large historic graphite mines in Borrowdale, Keswick in the Lake District. It was illuminating to discover that graphite is one of the oldest minerals for drawing and recording, originally being used in England by shepherds to mark their flock, its history can be traced back to the earliest cave paintings as a carbon descendent of charcoal (The History of the Pencil, n.d.). It has a natural tactility that entices us to make marks, a mineral that was meant for the hand. It later became so synonymous with drawing that it got its modern name “graphite” from the ancient Greek word γραφω “Grapho”, which translates as I write / record / draw”. I find it apt that graphite is literally called after the action of drawing and recording, being so suggestive of the history of these two activities. Its material properties are also of interest, possessing a “soft and slippery texture” that leaves layers of shiny residue which rub off from each successive layer (You, 2018). It's this softness and layering that make it the perfect tool for drawing in the expanded field for my practice. The pencil is able to build up knowledge, just as it physically deposits itself onto a surface layer by layer revealing more details with each layer rubbed, softly getting into every nook and cranny. It is a material of caressing, of gentle, soft understanding and getting to know, creating a language of love, devotion and knowing.
Pencil and Graphite
This ability to discover is another fascinating property of graphite, having ideal properties for the conveyance of information. One graphite pencil is capable of “35 miles of writing, which equates to approximately 45,000 words”. When I print the printing presses in the print room by rubbing them, I am using one of the most famous papers for the conveyance of information on the one hand, and on the other utilising quite possibly the most ideal materials for conveying information as I print that which is a machine for the generation of knowledge.
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Turning now to graphite’s historic value, I was quite surprised to discover graphite was also once incredibly valuable, in 1650 becoming more valuable than gold. 150 years later, its value had gone up even further, nearly 1,000%. Since my research is predicated on the question of what my audience values, the act of rubbing in graphite, much like polishing in silver has an interesting historical overlap, seeing graphite as a once valuable mineral resource. It seems to me that graphite is the right material to talk about value. The labour that was required to mine graphite was extensive, much like the labour involved in rubbing, that effort is what imparts value. There is a feeling there is a link between excavating revealing surfaces with a mineral and that minerals expensive excavation. It is also quite interesting to me that graphite is now such an important and increasingly valuable resource: graphene. It has important functions as a material in phones and touch screens. It’s legacy as a technological conveyor of technology, while I imprint knowledge through touch stand in interesting juxtaposition to each other.
I still had some thoughts about graphite, pencil and pencil making that I wanted to think about further, so I contacted the Pencil Museum to ask one of their experts about them:
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QUESTIONS FOR THE PENCIL MUSEUM
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Tom Harper:
I am interested in the history of graphite and pencil production. What has led graphite to be used in pencils? What has stood graphite out that explains its popularity as a mark making tool?
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Tom Harper:
The tool as an extension of the hand is something I am currently researching. How did the shape of the pencil become the way it did? What tactile properties does the shape of a pencil give that make it so good for drawing and mark making?
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Tom Harper:
I am also Interested in the properties of graphite that make it such an amazing conveyor of information. What makes it so good at picking out details in drawings?
Tom Harper:
I find the the shininess of graphite to be important feature in my practice; Could you talk about the unique way that graphite is both shiny and dull?
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Tom Harper:
And additionally, how have people have been affected by graphite shininess. How it has shaped our relationship with graphite in terms of how that shininess has been used/seen/considered historically/culturally/aesthetically and in the present day?
Tom Harper:
Was it considered useful or valuable for pencil making or otherwise?
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Responses
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The Pencil Museum's reply was not as direct and as helpful as some of the interviews I have managed in the past. I was given an out of print booklet "The Pencil Story: 400 years of the Cumberland Pencil, From Elizabeth the I to Elizabeth the II" that, although contained unique knowledge of the pencil, especially in regards to pencil production and the idiosyncrasies of graphite production history in the UK, it did not leave me fully satisfied on the subject of shininess, value or materiality. However, I think it is a good experience to keep trying to attempt interdisciplinary collaborations and this is something I am sure to continue to persevere with in the future.
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References
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Diepeveen, L., & Laar, T. v. (2021). Shiny Things. Intellect Books Ltd.
Pen2Paper.The History of the Pencil. https://www.pens.co.uk/pen2paper/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/The-History-of-the-Pencil.pdf
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You, S. F. (2018, -12-17T07:25:56+00:00). From pencils to programming: graphite’s role in the transmission of knowledge. https://www.semiconductorforu.com/pencils-programming-graphites-role-transmission-knowledge/
Constance Classen, The Deepest Sense: A Cultural History of Touch
The deepest sense : a cultural history of touch. Urbana, Ill: University Of Illinois Press.
Since touch has become such a vital part of my practice, I have significantly broadened my understanding of the philosophical, theoretical, historical and cultural significance of touch until the present day. I started my research journey by looking at Constance Classen’s A Cultural History of Touch (2012). The history of touch has been coloured by the historical predominance of vision. People up until the very recent past have considered touch to be one of the “lower senses”, an “uncivilized” primitive way of making sense of the world, and as such it has been steadily marginalized as of lesser value in aesthetic and real terms. But touch was not always seen this way, the so called “dark ages (Classen, 2012)” in which “people groped about blindly, feeling their way through life” is a fallacy, presented in hindsight as a result of a multitude of different factors, the most egregious being that of class and gender bias, all on the heels of technological and intellectual advancement.
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The Relic and the Museum
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It was at this point in my research that I found it interesting to take a moment and consider the historic use of the relic and how that is an important facet in my own practice. Relics were seen to have fantastical powers of healing, of holiness, “they were most potent objects possessed by the church”, providing an “essential material link” to the divine (Ibid., p.36). This mystical “potential of the sense of touch” is an indicator of how relics in the past could be seen to impart value through obsessively caressing them. The act of touch could provide a supernatural force that had the power to grant one good health, good fortune, and a good end – all through the medium of touch” (Ibid., p.40). On a more terrestrial level I believe this shows that people want to have a tangible piece of something special in their lives. People want to give meaning to themselves and to others. There seems to be an innate human desire to collect relics and artifacts, to turn them into objects of love and devotion, to categorize the world and make sense of it into different hierarchies. Understanding is a way of loving the world and making sense of who we are and what we believe in; becoming masters of our own universe. This is something I also feel when I am excavating surfaces with the pencil or taking inky imprints of life’s textured skin. I am taking the beauty of the world and my own lived experience, and like the valuable relics of our past and present, caressing and touching the subjects that I think are important in life, I am giving value to my own experiences; thus, by presenting them in this way, I am hoping to create a connection with others, the world and my life. The fetishization of the subjects that I find meaningful, within the context of the relic and its procedures of worship that my practice has similarities to, is an additional vehicle to get people to think about value, connection and the artistic process.
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The historical precedent of how old and rare objects became objects of devotion informs my own practice about how I think and present my haptic experiences to my audience. This can be seen in the cultural history of the museum, the spiritual successor to the reliquary (Ibid., p.142). The museum display used to be a place of tactile fantasy, in which the visitor was able and expected to pick up and admire the riches on the display. People even used to be able to feel the crown jewels through a grate (Ibid., p.138). Touch had important functions as a way of traditionally proving the veracity of objects. Touch was a way to inspect the true nature of the thing observed, appreciating it on its own terms. A “hands on approach to exhibits enabled visitors to acquire an embodied understanding of the nature of the display” (Ibid., p.139). Using all our senses helped the visitor to understand the object completely (Ibid., p.141). It helped create an “imaginary intimacy” that annihilated the space and time between the past and present. The power of presenting haptic works in the manner of a museum created an immediate response that brings out all these notions, affected or not by the museum context, of considering and appreciating objects as rarefied items worthy of further investigation (even if later they were no longer allowed this kind of tactile experience, the mindset of being in a museum context remained broadly the same). It prompts people to think about comprehending their nature. This is the objective of my work which is to make people think again about the value of surfaces and objects, the traces of the world and lived experience. For me there is something just brilliant about turning what is considered completely abject and using all the power of the museum setting (this is also true to a lesser extent to the gallery (Ibid., p.145). with all its historical precedents of appreciation of object, to make my audience appreciate the beauty of the world’s skin; the records of life. Much like relics, these art objects are presented within the context of the numinous and the exalted.
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My aim is not to romanticize touch in past ages, it is more a rejection of the prejudicial bias that has allowed touch to wrongly be looked down on as a lesser sense for so much of history. It is also a rejection of permitted modes of touching, the outlet of which is only shiny, consumerist products. By making rubbings of things that many would consider barely worthy of notice, I am gaining a kind of freedom to relate to the world, and even property, differently than what society expects or demands. Touch has become transgressive, a political act that rails against some of the excesses of modernity and its blind eye to tactility and haptic modes of expression. This feels especially important when touch is being denigrated like never before. Touch in a sense has become scarcer, and more of a rarity. The pandemic and the 21st Century, with its efficient, relentless drive for more uniformity has made touch and a sense of connection incredibly important for art and life.
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References
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Classen, C. (2012). The deepest sense: a cultural history of touch. University of Illinois Press.
Tim Ingold: Lines, The Life of Lines and Being Alive
In Tim Ingold’s Lines, the author talks about the idea of taking drawing into the world itself, that the world can be seen in terms of the lines we make both physically and metaphorically (Barker, 2022). In the Life of Lines, the author goes further in exploring this idea suggesting that our world is woven from knots, not from building blocks, which would in fact make it impossible for life to exist (Ingold, 2007). This idea of knotting and weaving suggests the interconnectivity between everything, and that it is an organic growth, not a linear one. He goes on to say that life is meaningful when it is understood within the framework of connections in our lives. The lines of our life become entangled with each other both socially and in terms of the environments in which we live as well as an encounter with the external world. He is effectively reminding us that our life experience is an embodied one that is joined up with everything else we encounter. He makes this clear when he discusses it in his essay ’Being Alive’ using the example of walking on the pavement:
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“It is simply that boots impress no tracks on a paved surface. People, as they walk the streets, leave no trace of their movements, no record of their having passed by. It is as if they had never been. There is, then, the same detachment of people from the ground, that runs as I have shown like a leitmotif through the recent history of western societies. It appears that people, in their daily lives, merely skim the surface of a world that has been previously mapped out and constructed for them to occupy, rather than contributing through their movements to its ongoing formation " (Ingold, 2011., p.44).
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What I took from Ingold is that we are all connected to our environment and to each other, that we should not forget our roots, what essentially makes us human. We are not isolated beings; the things around us connect us and that shared life experience has value. The disembodied, machine world, that modernity and the informational age indirectly envisages as our aesthetic future, should at least be considered within the contexts of our actual physical selves. In the history of touch, we used to live in tandem with our physical environments. I think it is important in my work to try to remind the viewer what is absent and lost by the lack of physical contact with our environment and each other. Touch is the medium of communication of every living thing on this earth, humans included (Classen, 2012., p.93). We are all inhabitants of this earth; it is one of the principal things that connects the lines of our lives.
References
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Barker, G. (2022, Thursday, 12 May). Drawing : Tim Ingold's 'Lines'.
https://fineartdrawinglca.blogspot.com/2022/05/tim-ingolds-lines.html
Classen, C. (2012). The deepest sense: a cultural history of touch. University of Illinois Press.
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Ingold, T. (2011). Being alive : essays on movement, knowledge and description.
London ; New York: Routledge.
Ingold, T. (2007). Lines : a brief history. London Routledge.
Ingold, T. (2015). The life of lines. London ; New York: Routledge.
Martin Jay, Down Cast Eyes: The Denigration of
Vision In Twentieth-Century French Thought
Ling, E., Reynolds, S. and Munro, J.,
The Human Touch: Making Art: Leaving Traces
Jay, M. (1993). Downcast Eyes : The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century French Thought
I decided to become more acquainted with the philosophical and academic discussion regarding touch and aesthetics. From Down Cast Eyes (1993), by Martin Jay I learnt more about the “ocular centrism” that led to the denigration of touch that has coloured so much of western thinking concerning it. Despite Diderot’s resistance to vision being considered the dominate sense (Jay, 1993) was relegated for some time to the ’lowest sense’. A change came after the emergence of ’Cezanne's Doubt’ and Merleau-Ponty's Phenomenology of Perception (1945), which called into question the idea of objective perception, instead deconstructing visual perception as being more based on” the psychological apparatus of the viewer alone” than our ability to gain any one kind of essential truth (Jay, 1993,. p.152). Other criticism quickly followed, and the hierarchy of the eye was further called into question (Krauss’ ’Antivision’ and Hal Foster Ibid., p.587-9). Now the ”domination of sight has become under increasing scrutiny and suspicion by many modern philosophers”. In recent scholarship there is now somewhat a reversal of the fortunes of touch. The Human Touch (2021), a book based upon the Exhibition in Cambridge in 2021 states:
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“Sensorial readings of texts and works of art are offering new ways of understanding cultural production and reception, and it is now widely accepted that touch as well as sight is crucial to our experience of the visual arts: our vision is haptic as well as optic”(Ling, Reynolds and Munro, 2021., p.15).
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Touch is now in an exciting state of reevaluation that I am keen to research further through this book after this course..There are many areas that I want to investigate, including Notes on the Index: Seventies Art (1977) in America by Rosalind Krauss (as well as her other works) that discuss increased interest in the haptic and traces.
References
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Jay, M. (1993). Downcast Eyes : The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century
French Thought
Ling, E., Reynolds, S. and Munro, J. (2021). The human touch. Making art, leaving traces. London: Ad Ilissum.
© 2022 By Tom Harper