threading the needle
so i'm still very much confused how this project will unfurl. i had three budding attempts to address the idea of secrecy, all of which are sort of floopy and unoriginal.
1. clothing reincarnation, clothing incognito, if you will. the idea that the memories attached to a particular object may be altered, transferred, or retained through an indistinguishable transformation of the object. you would take an object that possesses significant meaning, but because of changing circumstances you want to disguise the form. for example, say you have a sweater that was given to you by an ex. at the time, it held many fond and important memories. after the breakup, you can live without the ex but the sweater contains so much a part of yourself and your 'past life' that you dont want to throw it out. however, your current relationship sort of makes it awkward or unacceptable to wear this sweater. you may, however, be comfortable wearing the sweater incognito -- unraveling it, using the yarn for mittens and a sock, or cutting it apart for a scarf fringe, or a tablecloth. similar idea: melting down a piece of jewelry and reforming it into something new. though the material is the same, will the changed piece hold the same sort of meaning? what's changed and what's the same? sweater -> unraveled -> dyed -> reknit -> felted -> mittens. will wearing the mittens be the same as wearing the sweater? how may this secret history be public or private? process history vs. material experience. it's a different idea than, say, quilting or patchwork, where the form lends itself to asking questions about collective history and what the different materials mean.
so, if you take your favorite shirt, and put it in a blender, and make a deconstructed skirt or hat or socks, how does your perception of it change? has its previous life come to an abrupt end and a new life started? or how can the idea of continuity in materiality follow through
2. 3. okay, these are sort of lame. i'll just say 'invisible ink' or 'hidden layers' and leave it at that.
another idea hit me this afternoon. this idea of personal attachment to our clothes. the intimacy. the idea that 'my wearing this particular item of clothing is very significant because, well, it's mine and there are a lot of psychological connections to it.' it would be strange, somehow, to think of other people wearing some of our clothing. different dimensions:
- which clothes? i think it's important that the intimacy is attached to the actual object (and not a copied design or the 'same model'). the jeans with the stains, the pilled sweater, the coat-that-i-found-in-portugal. it's the feelings associated with the individual instantiation.
- which other people? would you be more uncomfortable if your intimate clothing were worn by someone you know, or by a stranger? i have a skirt that i got from my mother. would i be more twisted or resistant to having, say, a fellow medialabmate wear it one day, or a more random 'clothing swap' partner i found on the internet? does it matter if i see them in it in person? photographs? getting compliments on it from other people? finding the same pleasures in it that i do (silky lining, warm colors, unique construction)? this other life on another body -- ideas of jealousy, longing, incompatibility, or distrust in terms of what is intimately yours being adopted by someone else.
- how long? would a day be enough? a longer amount of time for the 'other's' influence to take over (either perceptible or non)? is it more i'm-missing-the-object than the-object-misses-me?
- how much should the other person know? is it enough to say 'this sweater was worn before,' and leave it at that? or something like 'this sweater is the last gift to the other person from her grandfather before he passed away'. how much of the story will affect the circumstances? maybe too much information is too much information, but ambiguity might mask the intensity of the materiality.
some fodder for thought. i really need to formulate my strategy now.
1. clothing reincarnation, clothing incognito, if you will. the idea that the memories attached to a particular object may be altered, transferred, or retained through an indistinguishable transformation of the object. you would take an object that possesses significant meaning, but because of changing circumstances you want to disguise the form. for example, say you have a sweater that was given to you by an ex. at the time, it held many fond and important memories. after the breakup, you can live without the ex but the sweater contains so much a part of yourself and your 'past life' that you dont want to throw it out. however, your current relationship sort of makes it awkward or unacceptable to wear this sweater. you may, however, be comfortable wearing the sweater incognito -- unraveling it, using the yarn for mittens and a sock, or cutting it apart for a scarf fringe, or a tablecloth. similar idea: melting down a piece of jewelry and reforming it into something new. though the material is the same, will the changed piece hold the same sort of meaning? what's changed and what's the same? sweater -> unraveled -> dyed -> reknit -> felted -> mittens. will wearing the mittens be the same as wearing the sweater? how may this secret history be public or private? process history vs. material experience. it's a different idea than, say, quilting or patchwork, where the form lends itself to asking questions about collective history and what the different materials mean.
so, if you take your favorite shirt, and put it in a blender, and make a deconstructed skirt or hat or socks, how does your perception of it change? has its previous life come to an abrupt end and a new life started? or how can the idea of continuity in materiality follow through
2. 3. okay, these are sort of lame. i'll just say 'invisible ink' or 'hidden layers' and leave it at that.
another idea hit me this afternoon. this idea of personal attachment to our clothes. the intimacy. the idea that 'my wearing this particular item of clothing is very significant because, well, it's mine and there are a lot of psychological connections to it.' it would be strange, somehow, to think of other people wearing some of our clothing. different dimensions:
- which clothes? i think it's important that the intimacy is attached to the actual object (and not a copied design or the 'same model'). the jeans with the stains, the pilled sweater, the coat-that-i-found-in-portugal. it's the feelings associated with the individual instantiation.
- which other people? would you be more uncomfortable if your intimate clothing were worn by someone you know, or by a stranger? i have a skirt that i got from my mother. would i be more twisted or resistant to having, say, a fellow medialabmate wear it one day, or a more random 'clothing swap' partner i found on the internet? does it matter if i see them in it in person? photographs? getting compliments on it from other people? finding the same pleasures in it that i do (silky lining, warm colors, unique construction)? this other life on another body -- ideas of jealousy, longing, incompatibility, or distrust in terms of what is intimately yours being adopted by someone else.
- how long? would a day be enough? a longer amount of time for the 'other's' influence to take over (either perceptible or non)? is it more i'm-missing-the-object than the-object-misses-me?
- how much should the other person know? is it enough to say 'this sweater was worn before,' and leave it at that? or something like 'this sweater is the last gift to the other person from her grandfather before he passed away'. how much of the story will affect the circumstances? maybe too much information is too much information, but ambiguity might mask the intensity of the materiality.
some fodder for thought. i really need to formulate my strategy now.
posted by christine at 1:46 PM
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