I’ve been making a series originally sparked by the visual of flying like a bat…. could I make sense of navigation through echolocating…. Its some of what I have been working on this year, part of my ongoing investigation of how I think about being tethered to, or severed from the narrative.
It is, of course, about more than bats. There is a strangeness to working on tiny dots perforating the body during a global pandemic. What gets in and out of the body has revealed a meaning to everyone in a specific way – one that heightened our fear of touch, breath and space. Here’s ‘MY’ bit of space. Here’s ‘MY’ breath. The psychological ramifications of this are broad, but as we are still ‘in’ it, we can’t even begin to conceptualise it.
I have a huge interest in the use of the phrase “Porous Body” – it comes from early medical thinking stretching back through Galen. The two-way transmission, what comes out and what gets into the body, through the skin, resonates at higher or lower frequencies depending on our relationship to illness and how we treat the body which is sick.
When I puncture the surface of the photograph, it’s about the puncturing of the skin, the membrane that separates bodies and space, bodies and bodies. The slippery-ness of the photograph, and all that it stands for, is circumnavigated with my needle.
For me, this is praxis.