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…
Awaiting more glove stock- there are many more contributions to stitch. Thank you to all those who are contributing- deep gratitude. Not sure where this is going, but I’m following it… ‘This beginning, like all beginnings, is always already threaded through with anticipation of where it is going but will never simply reach, and of a past that is yet to come. It is not merely that the future and the past are not ‘there’ and Read More
It made me remember how often I cross my arms when I’m sitting, and stick my hands in pockets when I’m standing (and scuff my heels – another pair of trainers worn through recently)
the hands are held in an envelope of touch from the gloves themselves. They bring an altered, enfolded sensation world to the joined hands. A tethered accompaniment to the arrangements of fingers and hands, they are self- binding and yet there is a micro motility from the stitches and the cotton material, that allows a kind of breathing. A motile world within a soft material skin, epidermis- exoskeleton.
The hold is always approximate…I mould the dummy hands into the hold in an arrangement that seems to match the hold in the image. The process of moulding does give me a haptic, kinaesthetic feel for the hold, this is not simply visual. I also think of the subject, of where they were situated, my relationship to them. There is a virtual intimacy in the process of composing, stitching and holding these hands. I think of Read More
the feeling of bracing – I could lift this body up in one hand, sprung on the wrist the soft touch of fingertip on one hand, the dense, tougher skin on the other the special care for grazed palms the cool of fingertips, the smooth lake surface of backs of hands, the heat of the palms how my hands are a part of my body I take aesthetic pleasure in