BODY FRAGMENTS
My focus during these 10 months of practice has been very personal and introspective. I understand it now as a threshold, a space I needed to inhabit in order to address change (mainly related to the habits I have created during the 10 + years of practice as an architect), as well as to embody my practice as an artist in a more balanced way.
I aimed to integrate my body within the context of my previous work as a sculptress and through this process I discovered the relevance of the sensorial, intuitive part of my practice. There is an exchange between my body and the materials I chose to work with, both informing one another.
As a process artist, I experience a strong connection with the materials I engage with and, in time, even come to embody their qualities. My interactions with iron began in 2014 when I was diagnosed with an iron deficiency. The doctor’s report stated an imbalance in iron and iron binding capacity in my system. It wasn’t something I could picture but surely felt as strong headaches and body fatigue. As I introduced iron into my diet, consciously or not, the element became more and more a part of my life. While trying to eat more meat, spinach and lentils, I also began using iron particles as one of the principal materials for my work. Years later, in 2018, the doctor’s report stated that the iron within my blood had sky-rocketed, so high that it was actually out of range.
Upon my return from Berlin, in September 2018, I was pondering the notion of inner-transformation when I stumbled upon a rusty piece of metal. I followed my urge to bring it home and experiment with this decaying piece of iron. I began within: within my blood, within my home.
turning iron into dust
In my bathroom, I managed to fit a plastic bucket big enough to submerge the iron piece in water with some other materials. I placed this bucket on the floor between the tub and the sink as my work space. The rusty object mixed with water, magnets, fabric, scrap metal and iron shavings, creating a kind of soup that I left to ferment for a few weeks. It was fascinating to watch how the media reacted and changed during this time of experimentation. In the beginning, a metallic brown layer formed on the surface where the rusty water met the air, looking almost iridescent. After a few days, I decided to add some vinegar to accelerate the process of oxidation.
bucket materials sample_ October 2018
bucket materials sample_ May 2019
The thin, iridescent layer turned into a voluptuous foam of brownish coloration accompany with a strong odor, which added to the atmosphere in a very particular way. My house smelled like blood at first and after some days of oxidation, began to smell like cheese. Sharing this later with a scientist friend, I confirmed the proliferation of bacteria.
I began collecting the foam daily, carefully scooping it with a metal knife and pouring it onto white parchment paper. Experimenting as a painter, I tilted the parchment paper so the liquid would spread; tracing boundaries and delineating intersections towards wide and open areas like a map of unknown territory, marked by interesting textures. Once dry, I discovered that the foam had turned into dust, bringing about an eerie transmutation of the material (iron).
Iron dust
During this month-long experiment, as my materials transformed, I also underwent a physical and psychic transformation. I had dreams of vomiting and excretion and would wake up feeling relief from purging. Waking up every morning with excitement to a newly formed layer of foam to scrape out became a ritual. Over the course of a few days the foam subsided and I was left with a jar of iron dust. This jar now sits on the highest shelf of a bookcase in my living room. The refined, dust-like consistency creates clouds within the jar every time I shake it. I want to make more of this but I’m having trouble recreating it. I tried this experiment again with a different piece of rusty metal and was unable to recreate the foam or the characteristic smell of my initial experiment. I believe the initial piece of rusty metal had a particular bacterium on it that had caused that reaction. This, for me, is an analogy for how significant and ephemeral those moments of creativity are. I caught a glimpse of wholeness, in spite of not being able to recreate the same results again.
The bathroom became my laboratory, the place I tended to every day to observe the transmutation of iron, as much as to deal with the intimate aspects of my body. I was able to manifest and experience massive transmutations of the materials within this microcosm, without having to buy materials from the store. I was capable of distilling a more refined version of the material/element I had been working with for so long. That, in itself, opened a door to the vast possibilities of the material and to my agency as a creator.
I ask myself, have I reached a balance of iron in my blood through this process?
A a spatial intervention that manifests the idea of a threshold-a gap- space between other space.
Iron drawings- artist book
I want to create an artist book with this pile of drawings. I currently have them air-bound within a box. These are the ones that still contain the strong odor I experienced within my whole apartment during the process of oxidation.
Iron dust, resin bubble, metal ring/ object
Tiny spheres shining in the dark, sprawling the dessert ground…is a work in progress