It takes a while to interpret-the orientation of fingers and thumbs. We try a stitch and it fails, we begin again. My daughter has offered her hands- it is a curious hold- the thumb and little finger of the same hand make a gesture- open- with the fingers between folded. An enfolded figure- obscured- altered by the touch of the other hand. The photos sent are detailed, forensic, they seem to want to be understood. They Read More
Stitching into mannequin hands again. The relative awkwardness of handling these disembodied things. Stitching is methodical, finger-by-finger…the hand assembled in its hold, points of contact between tethered, the stitches are loci in the navigation towards the hold. Though the thing is approximate, the material sensitive and breathing- ghosting around the form.
The intimacy of stitching…a strong sense of emplacement of this person, I know this room. A sense of distance made closer, but the distance remains. Smells of this room, touch, of the sea nearby, the soil – are transmitted in the stitching- maybe into the gloves?! I feel held in this gesture- it is offered up- air mail
‘By the end I started to feel like I was holding another persons’ hand – my partners’ – a holding, a caress, comfort, being held. It took the whole time to get there. To be in touch…’ My mother offers her hands again…we stitch, she tells me it is not necessary to talk…I look at the photograph, I have a tangible, physical sense of this person in a place, a memory- as I stitch I re- member. Something Read More
I hold the hands as if they were her hands…The wooden mannequins seem awkward and clumsy, they constantly fall out of shape- they express their object-ness and other-bodied natures. Yet the spectral zone of this virtual touch transmits many others. I am working intimately with the hands of someone I have know for many years, as a stranger…