three somatic responses: to tear, to study and stitch, to pierce and mend.
Somatic Response
I have always thought of time and trends as a pendulum or wave. Always in anticipation for the moment when the upturn begins. Always holding dread for the reality in which the bottom is redefined even deeper than I previously thought possible. I recognize that we are each living through a time that is deep with crisis and pain in amounts unfathomable and beyond the scope of our imaginations.
Several art practices that I have recently been cycling through have been helping me process the weight of the world. Each has a tactile, somatic connection to making and understanding. I am sharing them with you here to use or modify. As always I am happy to hear how it goes, and to hear what you do with your torn fabric and stitched paper.
Somatic Response: To TEAR
A word and gesture that I have been returning to is TEAR.
to tair
verb (used with object),tore or (Archaic) tare,torn or (Archaic) tare,tear·ing.
to pull apart or in pieces by force, especially so as to leave ragged or irregular edges.
to pull or snatch violently; wrench away with force: to tear wrappings from a package; to tear a book from someone's hands.
to distress greatly: anguish that tears the heart.
to divide or disrupt: a country torn by civil war.
to wound or injure by or as if by rending; lacerate.
to produce or effect by rending: to tear a hole in one's coat.
to remove by force or effort: to be unable to tear oneself from a place.
to teer
noun
a drop of the saline, watery fluid continually secreted by the lacrimal glands between the surface of the eye and the eyelid, serving to moisten and lubricate these parts and keep them clear of foreign particles.
this fluid appearing in or flowing from the eye as the result of emotion, especially grief: to shed tears.
My questions for you:
What are the parts of this definition that resonate with you? The noun or the verb?
When was the last time you shed a tear or tore some fabric or paper?
How would you describe the sound and the feeling of altering the shape and the context of the object by tearing?
During these years of isolation and loneliness I have come to treasure friendships and collaborations. Take a moment to listen and view the following piece in which I am tearing the fabric of several well worn pillowcases that once belonged to my Mother. I will later alter them with natural dyes and then bring a new form and a repurposed shape to them. Today however it is strictly about the gesture and the sound of the tear.
My friend, Aáron B. Heard is both kind and brilliant. A poet, an artist and pacifist. Their dream is to create medicinal music that honors humanity, cultivates love, and demands peace. They recently shared the audio track with me which is added to my active gesture of tearing. TNH House remix Stop Bombs Stop Killing.
Joint the collaboration. Visit instagram@aaronbheard to add the soundtrack to your next reel
Original source: Thich Nhat Hanh 1972 United Nations Earth Summit, Stockholm
Somatic Response: To Study then Stitch
Another somatic shape of creative response I have been using to process the terminology and complex vantage points found in the media feed is a set of printed monotypes with cross-stitched text. I pull a short text phrase, transfer it to the printed page, pierce the paper to locate the letters and follow with cross-stitches. Similar to how a cloth sampler might have been embroidered to learn the alphabet. This is an alternative form of text rendering similar to using a highlighter or creating a found poem or blackout poem within a text. This slow durational practice lets the language wash over me. Each knot holds the calm I need for building my understanding and compassion.
Additional text excerpts being cross-stitched:
ATROCITIES
BECOMING UNGOVERNABLE
HYPOCRACY
COMPLICIT
CALLOUS DISREGARD
INSPIRES HATRED
CEASE FIRE. BARE MINIMUM
Somatic Response: To Pierce and Mend
Two small pieces of fabric, a needle and thread and a simple running stitch is all that is needed for this practice. The tension, the length of the stitches and the rows of stitches are laid without judgment. On busier days I sometimes set a timer for 15 - 30 min. while other times I take whatever time is necessairy. Similar to traditions of Japanese Sashiko and African Kantha stitching this loose style of mending is for the restorative, reflective space it gives to the stitcher.
moonlight reminder: this is the work of being human now
Like the seasonal alignments charting the transit of the moon or sun through gates and portals there are certain times of year that the moon rises over the East Bay hills and for a moment, shines through the porch window, stretching east into my bedroom landing across my face. In this liminal space between sleep and the moonlight splashes that wakes me up I feel the peace and magic of the moment.
Resting but awake, I conjure up the negotiators, the peacekeepers, the fact checkers and caregivers. This is the time for me, before the buzz of daylight hours where I can envision a society with leaders representing the diaspora and the complete spectrum of age and abilities. I conjure up a party called Truth and Kindness where leaders listen and understand the art of compromise and journalists, educators, caregivers and artists are held with the highest esteem. The moonlight reminds me that a compassionate society is a value, a dream and a possibility.
My to do list continues to shift in response to urgent needs. And my art practice helps to recalibrate through the weight held by the crushing world events.
One week I write letters and postcards alternating with emails, phone calls and donations. I remind myself that there are opportunities for building understanding and stretching toward compassionate gestures in multiple destinations: my neighborhood and the communities over mountains and across oceans.
This is the work of being human now.
When I saw the tearing of cloth I thought of stitching bandages.