28.8.20 Why cast feet?
I think this question relates to self portraiture, which I have researched extensively in my Self and other research. Freud's suggestion that humans are driven to replicate themselves as a foil to their mortality seems to be borne out by the history of art, from cave paintings to ancient statues and more contemporary depictions of artists, in abstract paintings and sculpture. The desire to have children is possibly also linked to this.
It's the first time I've done body casting and it's very complex. It requires another way of seeing. I think the thing that has struck me about it most is the physicality of it. I guess that should have been obvious, but I hadn't really thought about the extent to which my whole body would be part of the process. Gareth did a risk assessment and told me that people sometimes go into shock after body casting, or faint, and casting legs can sometimes lead to deep vein thrombosis. It's clearly stressful for some reason. For me, standing (and then perching, oh what a relief!) for so long was arduous and felt like physical labour. I was stuck and at the mercy of Gareth and Alyson for 5 hours. It was also psychological labour, as being stuck like that is very claustrophobic and there is no quick release.
The idea of casting my feet came from the many videos and photos I have of me wearing my Body cocoons in various different settings over the past months. Underneath most of them a pair of feet is visible, obviously my feet. Sometimes I'm wearing shoes, but there's something about the vulnerability of bare feet that really appeals to me. And my feet are especially odd, because they're mine, they're old and I have hammer toes and the beginnings of bunions. They're deformed. I liked the idea of spending time and labour making replicas of something less than perfect. Body perfection is an issue for many in an age of selfies, so to cast my deformed feet and present multiples of them as an integral part of an art work, is maybe a strange thing to do. I suppose I'm making public things that are normally private. My feet are normally seen by few, but here I'm emphasising them by casting them, revering them by making multiples of them and, through the internet at least, unleashing them on an unsuspecting audience. ( I'm not sure when I'll have a physical audience again, sadly.)
So, now I have three sets of plaster feet. Gareth is unhappy because on each set, at least one toe is broken. For me, however, I like the associations with broken statues throughout history, and that the feet are fragile, vulnerable. It makes me think about our mortality. The detail is phenomenal. It has wrinkles in all the places my feet have wrinkles, distinctive arches on the underneath and clear outlines of toe nails, wonky toes and bunions. Remarkable. They are obviously especially familiar to me as they are my feet, but the fact that they are separate now from my body does make them uncanny, even to me. Familiar, yet not part of me.
And, of course, they are body parts, castrated, and as Freud says that brings a sense of discomfort as well. More associations with mortality.
The white of the plaster makes them look even more fragile, like porcelain. Or they could be carved out of marble or stone, like many of the sculptures throughout history.
Although I have been enjoying the metal sculptures set up in the shoes, the cast feet give me a frisson of excitement. Unfortunately, of course, they're trials so I can't put the stands in them, but set up in front of them gives an idea of how the final sculptures will look. Exciting!
So, concrete or Jesmonite for the final cast? That is the big question.
Also, what can I cast next? I think I'm an addict. I'm really drawn to the materiality and alchemy of it, and it reminds me, yet again, of Mary Shelley's story of Frankenstein.
Post script See 8.9.20 Materials and meaning
I think this question relates to self portraiture, which I have researched extensively in my Self and other research. Freud's suggestion that humans are driven to replicate themselves as a foil to their mortality seems to be borne out by the history of art, from cave paintings to ancient statues and more contemporary depictions of artists, in abstract paintings and sculpture. The desire to have children is possibly also linked to this.
It's the first time I've done body casting and it's very complex. It requires another way of seeing. I think the thing that has struck me about it most is the physicality of it. I guess that should have been obvious, but I hadn't really thought about the extent to which my whole body would be part of the process. Gareth did a risk assessment and told me that people sometimes go into shock after body casting, or faint, and casting legs can sometimes lead to deep vein thrombosis. It's clearly stressful for some reason. For me, standing (and then perching, oh what a relief!) for so long was arduous and felt like physical labour. I was stuck and at the mercy of Gareth and Alyson for 5 hours. It was also psychological labour, as being stuck like that is very claustrophobic and there is no quick release.
The idea of casting my feet came from the many videos and photos I have of me wearing my Body cocoons in various different settings over the past months. Underneath most of them a pair of feet is visible, obviously my feet. Sometimes I'm wearing shoes, but there's something about the vulnerability of bare feet that really appeals to me. And my feet are especially odd, because they're mine, they're old and I have hammer toes and the beginnings of bunions. They're deformed. I liked the idea of spending time and labour making replicas of something less than perfect. Body perfection is an issue for many in an age of selfies, so to cast my deformed feet and present multiples of them as an integral part of an art work, is maybe a strange thing to do. I suppose I'm making public things that are normally private. My feet are normally seen by few, but here I'm emphasising them by casting them, revering them by making multiples of them and, through the internet at least, unleashing them on an unsuspecting audience. ( I'm not sure when I'll have a physical audience again, sadly.)
So, now I have three sets of plaster feet. Gareth is unhappy because on each set, at least one toe is broken. For me, however, I like the associations with broken statues throughout history, and that the feet are fragile, vulnerable. It makes me think about our mortality. The detail is phenomenal. It has wrinkles in all the places my feet have wrinkles, distinctive arches on the underneath and clear outlines of toe nails, wonky toes and bunions. Remarkable. They are obviously especially familiar to me as they are my feet, but the fact that they are separate now from my body does make them uncanny, even to me. Familiar, yet not part of me.
And, of course, they are body parts, castrated, and as Freud says that brings a sense of discomfort as well. More associations with mortality.
The white of the plaster makes them look even more fragile, like porcelain. Or they could be carved out of marble or stone, like many of the sculptures throughout history.
Although I have been enjoying the metal sculptures set up in the shoes, the cast feet give me a frisson of excitement. Unfortunately, of course, they're trials so I can't put the stands in them, but set up in front of them gives an idea of how the final sculptures will look. Exciting!
So, concrete or Jesmonite for the final cast? That is the big question.
Also, what can I cast next? I think I'm an addict. I'm really drawn to the materiality and alchemy of it, and it reminds me, yet again, of Mary Shelley's story of Frankenstein.
Post script See 8.9.20 Materials and meaning
