Monday, 17 November 2014

Paper and Skin

A paper surface has many metaphorical possibilities but one of the most fascinating is that it can be like skin. We measure the world against ourselves and we are very aware of things bigger or smaller, harder or softer, similar or different to our own bodies. A paper surface is in many ways similar to skin. Our skin can of course be stripped off, flayed and stretched out as a flat sheet but above all it acts as a boundary for the body, a membrane that separates the inside from the outside. In my last post I was musing on the edge and the frame, and how in some ways these operated as devices to enable us to separate the image from the world, without skin our organs would be in direct contact with the world therefore we could read skin as a type of edge between the body and the world or as an interface between two milieus.

Léopold Lambert is a very interesting writer who publishes The Funambulist, an on-line blog that is endlessly fascinating, this post of his opens out the idea of the body as a topological surface: The Funambulist
He introduces a way of thinking about the body as a topology.
“The body is a continuous surface folded many times that interacts with an exterior milieu whose limits cannot be established because of the impossibility of establishing a bodily interiority. What then becomes fundamental to an understanding of the body’s topology is what Simondon calls “membrane,” that is this folded surface that separates two milieus (neither exterior, nor interior) from one another. This membrane constitutes the interface of exchanges between these two milieus and Simondon sees in these exchanges the essence of life: “all the content of the interior space is topologically in contact with the content of the exterior space on the limits of the living being; there is no distance in topology.” (Lambert, 2014)
Simondon echoes Deleuze in his topoligical approach. In 'The Fold', Deleuze explores ideas surrounding folds of space, that both represent movement and invent time. He interprets perceptual experience as that of a body of infinite folds that is woven out of threads of compressed time and space.
Once we begin to think of the skin as a folded surface, it is not a very difficult step to think of how a paper surface might substitute for skin, and that drawings might become both flat surfaces and 3D objects. 

In medieval times skin colour was used as an indication of someone’s ‘complexion’ or ‘temperament’, the colours red, white, black and yellow representing the various ‘humours’ that categorised character and disposition. A balance of heat and cold, dryness and moisture was required to build an even temperament. One could be choleric, phlegmatic, melancholy or sanguine. As Wotton (in Connor, 2004) points out in reference to what painters can and can’t do, “painters cannot imitate, neyther subject vnto their pensell, the fashions, graces, maners & spiritual complexios, which either laudable or vitious do cleare or darken beautie”, i.e. that artists struggle to depict both inner temperament and outward appearance. If you want to research these things read Steven Connor’s ‘The Book of the Skin’ Available here
The point being that metaphors related to the skin's surface appearance can involve a rich and complex language and that these languages change over time. As an artist your own investigation into drawing will often touch upon how surface representation can operate metaphorically, not of course always in relation to human skin, but even when not, you might think about how background research can deepen and open out possibilities for investigation.

If paper is to be read as skin and if skin itself becomes a subject for investigation you might want to consider some of these issues.
Shape and positioning.

It is not by accident that we call the orientation of a paper rectangle portrait or landscape. We are bilaterally symmetrical and are taller than we are wide. A vertically orientated rectangular sheet of paper reflects this; therefore even without putting any marks on a sheet of paper we can create a basic metaphor. We can take this further; an A4 sheet of paper if in portrait position is a very similar shape and size to the human head. If we start putting a few horizontal lines across it we easily begin to recognise the divisions of eyes and mouth and nose.

Think about how you read someone else's face. The scanning of another human being's
bi-laterally symetrical face is very similar to scaning headlines. We design things that reflect the fact that our sensibilities are finely tuned to 'read' how other humans are reacting.

If you attach two portrait orientated A1 sheets, one above the other, you now have a rectangle very close in proportion to the standing human figure.
The total surface area taken up by an average adult human is approximately 1.8m2 to 2m2. You can calculate the surface area of your own skin by using this body surface area calculator. If you were developing images that were operating within a self-portrait tradition would you need to consider this? Would your drawings contain a more direct message if the paper surface was exactly the same as your own was calculated to be?
Texture and surface
The surface texture of paper is of course vital to the establishment of metaphorical possibility. If using paper it can be oiled, waxed, crumpled and creased, dipped into liquids, sanded down, polished, folded and scored, scratched into, left out in the rain, trod upon or shot through with bullet holes. Try scrunching paper over and over again until it becomes like material and then paint a layer of linseed oil over it and hang up to dry. The paper itself and the way it is treated holds tremendous opportunities for metaphorical exploration.
The more you scrunch the paper the more it will become like an old skin
Lauryn Arnott: Original skin
Lauryn Arnott's work demonstrates yet another way that the body can be thought of as an ageing skin and Alex Kanevsky's watercolours show how paper can aid watercolour's ability to suggest skin's opalescent transparency.
Alex Kanevsky

Mathilde Roussel's images work in the boundary between sculpture and drawing.

Mathilde Roussel
Mathilde Roussel's wall mounted pieces move between paper surface as skin metaphor and paper as a casting medium.
 
Choice of support
Brown wrapping paper comes in very large sheets, newsprint can come in huge rolls, hand-made papers come with a wide variety of surfaces, the paper that large posters are printed on is thick and robust, some papers are mixed with plastics, some plastics can be treated as flexible supports, walls and floors can be drawn on directly, Wim Delvoye works on live pigs, wallpapers not only come in long lengths but have wider domestic associations, printed ephemera carry messages of previous use, tissue papers have associations very different to tracing papers and all have the ability to be treated as a metaphor for human skin as well as being cut up using patterns and used as a second skin (clothing).

Inuits make kayaks and wetsuits from sealskin. They sew themselves into their kayaks and at one time travelled as far as the Orkney Islands. The islanders thought they were half seals and half men and called them selkies. In the stories the Orkney islanders told the selkies were shape shifters who shifted form by coming out of one skin and entering another. This passage between states could be seen as an analogy, a story that could belong to another tradition, that of artists trying to make flat representations of humans using marks on surfaces.


An Inuit sealskin suit
One very direct connection we can make with this is the use of sewing patterns. In some ways a sewing pattern can be seen as a plan for an extended second skin. Different body sizes are encoded in their production and these are also rich areas for symbolic meaning, think of the way we call ourselves size 8s or size 10s and how you worry when you have to move sizes.

Old pattern cutting paper already has a surface that looks like skin

We map our bodies in different ways and each culture has its own approach to this, for instance Chinese acupuncture diagrams allow us to think about the interconnections between the skin’s surface and what lies beneath.


Chinese acupuncture diagrammes go into extreem body detail, in particular the 'map' of the ear suggests an intense investigation of every inch of the skin's surface.

Mapping the body can be done in many ways and by using very diverse sets of information, the artist Katie Lewis has developed her whole practice around this. Link
Body maps can also be the site for narrative, in the image below two women have made body maps to describe the experience of living with HIV. Link


The combination of the image of the body as portrait and the idea of it as a map, can create a facinating fusion between two approaches.

The skin itself can be the subject of imagery, see the work of Tarryn Handcock which is a focus on the skin as a transformative boundary site.

Tarryn Handcock

You can of course turn everything around and make the surface the drawing material. In this image (below) Dragan Ilic uses pencils pushed through a surface to create a drawing tool.

You could think of these surfaces as 3D realisations of acupuncture diagrams

Which bring me to the drawing tools themselves. You can make your own tools and the way you make them can further the metaphor. Tools can scrape, scratch, puncture (the tattoo), rub, smooth or irritate the skin (paper surface).

Kate Lewis's drawings use sharp points to puncture paper surfaces.

One final word on skin. Of all the different surfaces on which you can make marks vellum is the most charged with meaning. The word itself comes from the Old French Vélin, which means "calfskin” and it is a surface made of mammal skin. In order to make it you have to kill and skin an animal, then clean the skin, bleach it, stretch it on a frame, and scrap the residue of meat and fat away. To create that lovely taut flat finish the scraping is alternated by wetting the whole skin and drying it in the sun and then finally the surface is sanded with pumice and limed. Animal vellum can be made from virtually any mammal including humans. The best quality, "uterine vellum", was made from the skins of stillborn or unborn animals, it is so thin that it is translucent, just like human skin.

Preparing human skins for display

Wim Delvoye tattooed pig

I am of course only scratching the surface of this subject and will at some point return to it.
See also:

Flesh

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