Diphylleia grayi: In-between

I: Between being and existing

In my practice, I realize that I’m dealing with the aspect of being human, more than anything. I’m reflecting on human existence, on relationships, on intimacy, on memory, on presence; living in the world, with the world. Thus the line, my focus both conceptually and formally, is the beginning and the end, it represents all of those reflections on being and existing. The line is a divisor, it creates the boundary between the world and I; the line is a connector, it connects me to the world. The line, then, creates the in-between space in which life occurs, in which I exist. I’m becoming increasingly interested in reflections of what is intangible related to existence: time, memory, impermanence, intimacy.

Taking the phenomenon of the Skeleton Flower as a starting point for a conceptual reflection, I’m becoming increasingly interested in what is intangible related to existence: time, memory, impermanence, intimacy. Diphylleia grayi, or Skeleton Flower, is an opaque white flower that, when it comes into contact with water, becomes transparent and exposes the “inside” part of its petals. I first heard about this flower through the song of the same title released in 2015 by South Korean singer-songwriter Kim Jonghyun. The lyrics consist of a metaphor for life and the passage of time based on this phenomenon of transparency, as expressed in the excerpt: “over time, even the white petals will wither without remembering that they were once transparent” (KIM, 2015).

Thinking of a threshold existence of things, I came across a study on the body from an existential-phenomenological perspective, and discovered that this angle relates directly to the things I’ve been reflecting on and exploring within my practice throughout the past year.

According to Heidegger, the foundations of existence are based on impermanence and mutability (PRADO, CALDAS, QUEIROZ, 2012, p.780). Time and existence are entangled. With that, I believe that the relationship between line and existence can be created and enhanced, as the line is based on the movement, it exists from (and in) a moment of transience; it follows my body in action in the world, as “the human being is a being in the world, in a process of mutual constitution with the world” (2012, p.782). As my existence happens through my body (from a phenomenological perspective, which is ingrained in my research), my existence is my passage through the world, and all of my experience occurs “in the temporal, impermanent and finite dimensions” (2012, p.779).

It’s also possible to say that existence happens in a threshold of time, as “the past and the future are present in the body” (PRADO, CALDAS, QUEIROZ, 2012, p.781). This is manifested through bodily reactions when remembering moments from the past, or when wondering about the future. The present is the only reality, and is in itself a threshold.

Back to the relationship between body and world, according to Heidegger, “(…) Affective availability opens us to the world, to others and to beings and, from it, they would have existence for us. The way in which we open ourselves affectively to the world allows us to be in a certain way and for the world to also exist for us in a certain way” (PRADO, CALDAS, QUEIROZ, 2012, p.785). The possibility of “being for the other” or “being with the other” is what allows meaning to existence; by creating a knot between the threads of different existences, I might be able to understand and acknowledge my own. Others and outside things allow our existence and we allow their existence, in turn — and this relationship, as mentioned above, can be built through affection. It’s in the intertwining of those presences that the being understands its own existence in the world.

“For phenomenology, the objects that appear before our senses are presence. Presence is not only a stable state of matter in time, it is what connects being here and now and its meaning. Absence, on the other hand, concerns what is no longer present and is no longer part of the field of the possible” (CABRERA in REBESCO, 2021, p.89). The only possibility is being present in the present and realizing other things to be present in the same space. This act of adding meaning and allowing existence happens through and with the body.

While thinking about this mutual existence through perception, a work by Lee Mingwei came to my mind. The Mending Project (2009-present) is an interactive installation in which the artist uses thread, color and sewing as “points of departure for gaining insights into the relationships among self, other, and immediate surroundings. It also constitutes an act of sharing between myself and a stranger” (Lee). In the work, Lee sits for hours at a table, receives damaged textile articles from visitors and mends them.

“The act of mending takes on emotional value as well, depending on how personal the damaged item is (…). This emotional mending is marked by the use of thread which is not the color of the fabric around it, and often colorfully at odds with that fabric, as though to commemorate the repair. Unlike a tailor, who will try to hide the fact that the fabric was once damaged, my mending is done with the idea of celebrating the repair” (Lee).

The act of mending as a way to turn present the memory of the absent (“appearing” in front of our senses, therefore turning into presence), the constructed relationship between artist and viewer that acknowledges both existences at the same time (the “self” and the “other”), and the intimacy of trusting a personal damaged object in the hands of another person, creates a beautiful place of encounter and connection. It evokes vulnerability, affection and care, and all of these are characteristics of human experience on Earth.

The relationship between the being and the world (being-in-the-world), the question of existence, is also placed in the scope of intimacy. Because it is ingrained in our existence, it feels intimate. It is manifested in the interior realm. Emanuele Coccia states that “living somewhere (…) means embarking on a relationship with certain things — and with certain people — that is so intense that it makes happiness part and parcel of our breathing” (COCCIA, 2024, p.6).

Here I suggest that the body, by simply existing, already manifests itself as a portion of intimacy in relation to the world, as it is a threshold between interior and exterior. Thus, this can be expanded to further discussions of who really owns their own portion of intimacy within the world, in the sense that bigger issues such as colonialism, global warming, capitalism and patriarchy play a big role in defining and controlling people’s bodies/existence in the globe. The limitation of this body is also delimited externally. As this is not the focus of this research at the moment, I won’t be able to discuss those topics in this section, yet it is crucial to be aware of their role in the discussions on the body.

It is almost as if existing means constantly being on the edge, being on this liminality, on this threshold that is existence itself. Between presence and absence, past and future, stillness and movement, interior and exterior, private and public. Moreover, the question of time seems to be the basis of all this reflection: considering how Heidegger express that “the outline of the understanding of being is the temporalization of the human being restless with his own finitude” (CEREZER, FLORES, ZANARDI, 2012, p.72), I wonder if this is why I bring these topics and reflections into my practice, as I deal with many existential questions in my daily life.

Going back to the presence of the line, I bring a quote that I crossed paths with during my Unit 1: “It takes only a moment to recognize that lines are everywhere. As walking, talking and gesticulating creatures, human beings generate lines wherever they go (…) it subsumes all these aspects of everyday human activity and, in so doing, brings them together into a single field of inquiry” (INGOLD, 2007, p.1). By paying attention to the commonplace of everyday life, by trying to evoke what is usually seen and what is more hidden and difficult to access, It may be that I’m trying to place my own existential questions outside of my body, and with that, aiming to connect with others. Through line, I’d like to propose the in-between existence as an intimate possibility of encounter.

II: Between body and space

With those reflections ongoing, I continued trying to expand my studio practice, while still being centered and rooted on the exploration of the line. Throughout my MA, I’ve been exploring scale and its connections with the notion of intimacy. I realized that the body in the space, circulating and perceiving the work, takes part in defining the meanings of this relationship.

Susan Stewart associates the miniature as a metaphor for the interior and intimate space, and the gigantic, analogously, as a metaphor for the exterior and public sphere. Furthermore, the body is pointed as essential in these associations: “The problems uncovered in such narratives — problems of inside and outside, visible and invisible, transcendence and partiality of perspective — point to the primary position the body must take in my argument. The body is our mode of perceiving scale and, as the body of the other, becomes our antithetical mode of stating conventions of symmetry and balance on the one hand, and the grotesque and disproportionate on the other” (STEWART, 1992, p.XII).

Stewart also mentions that “Although this body is culturally delimited, it functions nevertheless as the instrument of lived experience, a place of mediation that emails irreducible beyond the already-structured reductions of the sensory, the direct relation between body and the world it acts upon” (STEWART, 1992, p.XIII). This brings back the phenomenological perspective of the body, playing a vital part in perceiving (and being in) the world.

The temporality is also another point directly connected to the scale, as Stewart explains that “(…) the miniature world is a world of arrested time; its stillness emphasizes the activity that is outside its borders. And this effect is reciprocal, for once we attend to the miniature world, the outside world stops and is lost to us” (STEWART, 1992, p.67). It is as if the small scale encapsulates time in this enclosed space, and time passes in a different way. When in relation to the giant, however, the experience becomes fragmented both in terms of time and space; we can only experience it partially, as we’re “inside” of it, as it is surrounding our body.

With that, the aspect of space/physical distance is enhanced, as the smaller the scale the more distant our body is, as we can only experience it from outside, while the larger scale makes us feel enveloped by it. Therefore, its existence and its way of being in the world are also deeply transformed. This creates yet another threshold between the body of the viewer with the scale of the work: it is a paradox in which the body in relation to the miniature becomes giant, and when in relation to the giant, it becomes a miniature. Here, I decided to focus on the way that these oppositions can evoke intimacy.

I started to reflect on how this manifested inside my own body of work. A small-scale piece, such as Impermanence, can only be seen from the outside. One could see the whole work with just one glance, so the time of looking at it could be also minimized. However, it evokes this intimate feeling as the body needs to move forward and closer to it to be able to perceive its details. “There is only space because there is a body. The spatiality of the body, in turn, is only realized in action.” (PRADO, CALDAS, QUEIROZ, 2012, p.782). It’s as if an intimate relationship with the work is created through this approximation from the viewer — however, it all depends on their own intentions.

“We do not move in the world according to our objective representations of space, but according to our intentionality that situates us in the world (…) Therefore, the spatiality of the body is situational, that is, it concerns how I situate myself in the world in relation to other objects and other people” (PRADO, CALDAS, QUEIROZ, 2012, p.782). This brings to light the idea that the body’s point of view can transform the meaning/open new perspectives on the same object, as in the case of walking around an installation, such as Distant confluences, and noticing that the relationship between the images changes. In this case, with a large-scale work, my initial thoughts were that the size would take away from the intimacy I wanted to evoke; however, after studying these dichotomous relationships and receiving feedback on my work, I realized that larger size also evokes intimacy, but in different ways. The intimacy was brought by the environment that the piece itself created, as if the image is coming down and embracing the viewer’s body, approaching an immersive experience.

This relationship between body and scale also brings to mind Gaston Bachelard’s ideas. “Immensity is within ourselves. It is attached to a sort of expansion of being that life curbs and caution arrests, but which starts again when we are alone. As soon as we become motionless, we are elsewhere; we are dreaming in a world that is immense (…) It is often this inner immensity that gives their real meaning to certain expressions concerning the visible world” (BACHELARD, 1994, p.184, 185).

I started to realize that even the miniature could evoke this feeling of immensity in the realm of the intimate space. “The exterior spectacle helps intimate grandeur unfold” (BACHELARD, 1994, p.192), according to Bachelard; but it doesn’t exclude the possibility of being unfolded by a small-scale “spectacle” or piece of work. The philosopher states that “The two kinds of space, intimate space and exterior space, keep encouraging each other, as it were, in their growth” (1994, p.201) and that “It would seem, them, that it is through their ‘immensity’ that these two kinds of space — the space of intimacy and the world space — blend” (1994, p.203). It feels that this threshold of interior and exterior (related to scale and body), in the end, becomes a real point of encounter; they coexist in the territory of intimacy.

“This coexistence of things in a space to which we add consciousness of our own existence is a very concrete thing (…) In this coexistentialism every object invested with intimate space becomes the center of all space. For each object, distance is the present, the horizon exists as much as the center” (BACHELARD, 1994, p.203).

III: Between subject and materiality

To develop these thoughts of “in-betweenness” in my work, brought by reflections on the line as both a divisor and connector, I tried to explore materiality as a way to evoke meaning in the symbolic field. Together with that, there’s the representation of the body in the commonplace of the everyday.

“The living being is not simply in the world, since the world itself is intentionally in the living being. Thus, every time knowledge is emitted, one cannot help but pour a part of oneself into the world, to be alienated, to let one’s interiority escape into the outside world” (COCCIA, 2018, p.53). I feel that representing the physical presence of the body, which is made up of many layers inside, can be seen as an attempt of entering into the intimacy of the other and into the possible connections that may result from this contact. In this way, the idea of the thread of life enables each of these bodies represented in the work, formed by lines, to expand and intertwine with others, resulting in possible shared experiences.

I tried to explore materiality as a way to evoke meaning in the symbolic field. I’m attracted to the subtlety in which materiality can dialogue with what is in the realm of the intangible. Therefore, I continued focusing on surfaces with transparency to observe what happens on the the back of the surface at the same time as the front, aiming to evoke the thresholds of interior and exterior, hidden and revealed, the harder to access and the commonly seen.

The use of light fabrics such as voile and organza, and tracing paper, is a way to explore aspects of memory and life. As they are materials that can be easily damaged, I hope they can bring to mind the feelings of fragility and ephemerality. By leaving a blank/empty space around the figures, I expect to evoke a breathing space, a silence or stillness, away from the complex entanglement of lines and threads. Those are the ways that I respond to the surface, from the feelings I get when I see them and when I get in touch with them.

The touch is vital to the process, as there’s the mark-making of the drawing and the stitching of the embroidery. In a recent tutorial with Gavin Edmonds, he mentioned that the drawing is the memory of all of my touches, of all of my lines, in this moment that my body moves and touches the surface. “Each mark you leave is a memory”, Gavin said. This felt very special, as I realized another layer of intimacy and memory inside my own process. The mark-making and the stitching are both related directly to temporality, and the result (either made by threads, graphite or ink pen) feels like the remembrance of this previous moment of encounter — in which I recognize the existence of the materiality, and the materiality recognizes my existence, through my body.

Recently I came across the works of Beili Liu. Even though Liu’s practice is focused on cultural and environmental concerns, I felt that some aspects of it resonated somehow with my practice, or impacted me to reflect on my subject matter. One of her projects, The Mending Project, consists of iron scissors suspended from the ceiling, pointing downwards, while a woman performs a task of mending.

The work evokes the feeling of being (and existing) in a threshold: between the stillness and silence of the mending process and the anxiety of this possible aggression. Thus, the stitching process, at the same time that brings things together and evokes healing, also alludes to a certain level of violence, through the act of piercing a surface. This brings the feeling of the threshold as existing on the edge, or maybe signifying balance, but always filled with oppositions that highlights its complexities.

Another recent reference is David Spriggs. His use of layers made by transparencies is what allows the image to be seen, but every time one walks around the installation, the image changes and the layers start to act in a different way. It always depends on the point of view, on the movement of one’s body. This is something I tried to bring in my summer show work, in which the images started to connect to one another when seeing it from another angle. The position of the body is an essential element. As the image changes, I feel that the aspect of ephemerality is evoked through Spriggs’ work, in a way.

Layering became an important aspect for me: it’s a way to explore the intertwining of lines and how the figure becomes increasingly complex when in relation to another figure; it can evoke the sensation of movement, of touch, and connection; it can be metaphorically related to the idea of diving deep into someone’s interiority (as humans are multi-layered).

Chiharu Shiota’s practice was already a reference, but I returned to look at the artist’s exploration of texture, thickness, knots and other characteristics of textile materials, and how through that physical aspect they become a deeper metaphor for reflections about life and death. Through her work I get inspired to pay attention to those physical qualities of the thread I use to communicate different ideas.

When speaking of materiality, it’s also important to acknowledge the environmental impacts of the tools and materials used in the process and the repercussions of the finished piece. This awareness is something that I want to embrace more consciously within my own practice, and I realize I need to further research the origins and production of the materials in the first place to better understand how environmentally impactful they are and in what ways I can reduce this impact.

In terms of tools, I feel that my waste production is low, as needles and scissors last for years; the pens, however, have plastic on their exterior and need to be purchased more frequently. In terms of fabric, I’m aware that the textile industry causes a lot of pollution in terms of production (besides issues of labor exploitation and pollution from disposal), therefore I usually keep the small pieces of fabric that are not being used at the moment for future works, instead of discarding all of the cut pieces.

Possible measures I can think of implementing in the near future are finding second-hand fabrics (or produced with recycled materials) to work with, and paying attention to the origins of the paper and the fabrics I’m using — as paper can be a renewable resource, as well as plant-based textiles. In terms of finished pieces, I believe that a point to be more aware of is its outcome: where it will go, where it will be stored, whether it will be discarded or not. I currently keep all of the works I’ve done so far at home, but I’ll keep track of their final destination as time passes by.

IV: Between the beginning and the end

My research started from the question: “How to navigate intimacy through a dialogue between drawing and embroidery?”, aiming to reflect on intimacy and line — further reaching the present stage, exploring the notion of “in-betweenness” and its possibilities of expansion. Inspired by the phenomenon of the Diphylleia grayi, and taking it as the conceptual subject of my work, it’s possible to see that the idea of threshold was already present from the start. By reflecting on the existence of what is easily seen and what is more difficult to access, and basing those reflections on the exploration of the line, I developed all of the works made during the course so far.

I discovered that drawing is a potent medium to explore memory and intimacy, because it encompasses time and presence, and there’s also the characteristic of immediacy; it’s a first point of contact. While using embroidery in the context of the expanded drawing, the physicality of the thread positions this intimate drawing in the space and creates new relationships with the body and the physicality of a place/architecture. In this process, I experimented with a diversity of new materials, processes, mediums and display methods, as well as expanded my scope of references and concepts, understanding how I was deeply interested and reflecting on the idea of liminality.

Just like the skeleton flower, I’d like to continue exploring my threshold existence in the world, as I feel that both interior and exterior will always be present, even when it doesn’t seem so. There might be no prediction of the end of this line, and the beginning point might be blurred, but this research will remain as the memory of the in-between.

References

BACHELARD, G. (1994) The Poetics of Space. Boston: Beacon Press.

Beili Liu (2011) The Mending Project [Iron scissors, fabric, thread, needle, table, chair]. Available at: https://www.beililiu.com/The-Mending-Project (Accessed: 26 oct. 2024).

CEREZER, C., FLORES, A.P.M., ZANARDI, I.M. (2012) Introduction to study from Heidegger’s Being and Time: A contemporary renovation of intimate matter of being, Thaumazein, 09, pp.67-69.

Chiharu Shiota (2019) Lifelines [Old freight wagon, red wool, old chair]. Available at: https://www.chiharu-shiota.com/lifelines (Accessed: 28 oct. 2024).

COCCIA, E. (2024) Philosophy of the Home: Domestic Spaces and Happiness. London: Penguin Books.

David Spriggs (2022) Black & White [Acrylic paint on layered transparencies, lightbox, framework]. Available at: https://davidspriggs.art/portfolio/blackwhite/ (Accessed: 26 oct. 2024).

Erika Yanagi (2021). Untitled. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/p/CQGSdxWh5vg/ (Accessed: 03 dec. 2024).

INGOLD, T. (2007) Lines: A Brief History. 1st edition. London: Routledge.

KIM, J. (2015). Diphylleia grayi. Seoul: SM Entertainment. 

Lee Mingwei (no date) The Mending Project. Available at: https://www.leemingwei.com/ (Accessed: 28 oct. 2024).

Lee Mingwei (2009-present) The Mending Project [Mixed media interactive installation, table, chairs, thread, fabric items]. Available at: https://www.leemingwei.com/ (Accessed: 28 oct. 2024).

PRADO, R.A.A., CALDAS, M.T., QUEIROZ, E.F. (2012) The body in na existential-phenomenological perspective: approximations between Merleau-Ponty and Heidegger, Psicologia: Ciência e Profissão, 32 (4), p.776-791.

REBESCO, V.L.A. (2021) The banal, the domestic and the female body: the presence of absence in Doris Salcedo’s La casa viuda series, Modos, 5 (3), pp.72-95.

STEWART, S. (1992) On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham: Duke University Press Books.

About the author

Júlia Mazzoni is an artist based in Brasília, Brazil. She reflects on human existence through a dialogue between drawing and embroidery, exploring the line as the main conceptual and visual element. By intertwining thoughts on intimacy and materiality, the artist reflects on threshold territories, between interior and exterior, private and public, personal and collective.

She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Visual Arts from the University of Brasília (2022) and recently graduated from the MA Fine Art: Drawing at Camberwell College of Arts (2024).

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