‘/i am not a robot.’ is a Dadaesque poetry book created by a machine, taking the human processor out of the loop. It uses python script and algorithmic text libraries to curate a broad selection of randomized poems. These poems are based on personal crying texts; a compilation of old journals and manifestations. The result is an interpretation of these texts through the emotionally sober eyes of the machine, adopting an absurdist outlook and exploring a somewhat literary translation to the act of crying.
Last week, I felt a deep feeling of sadness to the point where I felt like my thoughts would consume me. I knew I had to do something to distract myself from the overwhelming thoughts that were racing through my mind.
I remembered a store that sold scents that I had never visited before, thinking it was unnecessary for me to buy something from there, like it wouldn’t be worth it to spent money on this kind of experience. However, I decided to try something new and visited the store. I spent some time browsing through the shelves, inhaling different scents and focusing only on my sense of smell. The experience was new to me, and it allowed me to be present in the moment and appreciate the simple pleasure of smelling different fragrances. It was a way to escape from the constant chatter in my mind and find a sense of peace.
As I continued to explore the store, I suddenly realized that these scents were triggering memories from my past. The floral smells reminded me of my mother, and I was transported back to my childhood.. When I was a child it was the smell of my mother’s perfume that brought tears to my eyes. It was the scent of her perfume that brought tears to my eyes and reminded me of how much I missed her when she was away traveling. I used to smell her clothes for comfort, and the memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
In that moment, I realized again that the power of scent was not only calming, but also had the ability to evoke memories and emotions. However, at the same time, it can also bring back negative memories, reminding us of a disliked person or a place. The trigger factor of smells is big since it’s capable of conjuring both positive and negative emotions.
Den Tod tragen, 2012-2019, von Kerstin Grießhaber & Julia Hartmann, Fotos: Samuel Perriard.
In seinem Buch „Die Matrix der Gefühle. Das Kino, das Melodram und das Theater der Empfindsamkeit” postuliert der Filmwissenschaftler Hermann Kappelhoff 2004, dass das Weinen ein Bekenntnis des menschlichen Subjekts zu seiner Verletzbarkeit sei. Später, schreibt er, wurde das Weinen privatisiert.
Für unsere Arbeit „Den Tod tragen“ stellten wir, Kerstin Grießhaber und Julia Hartmann, uns die Frage, wie man das Weinen, als Zeichen der Verletzbarkeit und der Trauer heute künstlerisch sichtbar machen kann, um so an einer gegenwärtigen und konkreten Trauerkultur zu arbeiten und an die Notwendigkeit einer solchen zu erinnern.
Wir entwarfen objekthafte Bekleidungsstücke, die sich mit der traditionellen Toten- und Erinnerungskultur in Deutschland auseinandersetzen und von deren Materialität inspiriert sind.Wir forschten zu traditionellen Ritualen und Objekten der Toten- und Erinnerungskultur in Deutschland, wie beispielsweise den Totenbrettern, die zur Aufbahrung der Toten dienten und nach der Bestattung als Andenken aufgestellt wurden oder dass man aus den Haaren Verstorbener Personen Gedenkschmuck fertigte. Diese wiederentdeckten Rituale und Objekte nahmen wir zum Anlass für eine Neuinterpretation für unsere Bekleidungsobjekte und arrangierten diese in inszenierten Fotografien.
Darin legen die Träger:innen diese Bekleidungsobjekte ritualhaft,Schicht für Schicht an. Zuerst das weisse Hemd (Seide bearbeitet), dann die Kappe, die die Haare als Identitätsträger verdeckt, dann ein trachtenartiges Objekt, das aus Gummi geknüpft ist und schließlich ein Kopfputz, der aus Holz und schwarzem Samt gefertigt ist.
Der Kopfputz vollführt in der gesamten Fotoserie, von der hier zwei Fotografien zu sehen sind, dieselbe Bewegung wie die Totenbretter, von der horizontalen in die vertikale. Somit lässt der Kopfputz den zukünftigen Tod der Träger:innen bereits erahnen. Die trauernde Person ist zugleich die zukünftige tote Person.
Die Bekleidungsobjekte verändern die Silhouette der Träger:innen unabhängig davon von wem sie getragen werden. Sie sind nicht personalisiert oder Geschlechter spezifisch. Sie werden so zu kollektiven Objekten einer möglichen Trauerkultur, die es weiter zu entdecken gilt.
“Hungry-eyed fogies, gargoyles in full cry above the ruck and tumble of the street. They stare through shadows at a first-class loser, failed at selling shoes, flunked waiting tables, freaked out at knocking holes through cellar walls for slumlord hovels, scratched through flea-bitten nights in far-off places, fumbled over phrases for a shrinking ear. Open mouthed, they shrug me off, but I don`t care. An empty bag, I litter-dance in air.”
Was bedeutet “Crying” für mich persönlich? Wie kann man seine persönliche Auffassung von “Crying” ausdrücken? Welche Sprache und Symboliken verwende ich, wenn ich diesen Zustand ausdrücke? Welche Farben verwende ich? Welches Medium?
In diesem Selbstversuch wurden genau diese Fragen erforscht.
Der Begriff “Crying” kann verschiedene Bedeutungen haben (z.B. weinen, schreien). Die meist verwendete Übersetzung “weinen” ins Deutsche ist aber nicht immer passend, um den genauen Kontext des nuancenreichen englischen “crying” zu vermitteln. Wir merken immer wieder: Eine direkte Übersetzung ins Deutsche gibt es nicht.
Um so spannender war es deshalb, mein eigenes Verständnis von “Crying” zeichnerisch darzustellen.
Das Ergebnis verglich ich mit einem Acrylgemälde, dass ich 2019 gemalt hatte und “Der Schrei” nannte.
Selbstversuch, Künstlertusche auf Zeichenpapier
“Der Schrei” Acryl auf Leinwand, 50cmx70cm, 2019
Beide Darstellungen zeigen Gemeinsamkeiten.
Es wird jeweils eine Figur dargestellt, die verkrampft ihren Kopf nach oben hält. Das deutet auf Verzweiflung und Hoffnungslosigkeit.
Auch die Farbwahl bleibt gleich. Schwarz und Weiß.
Wichtig ist es, abschließend nochmal zu betonen, dass es sich hier um eine subjektive Darstellung handelt. Für jede:n bedeutet “Crying” etwas anderes. Es muss nicht unbedingt etwas trauriges, hoffnungsloses oder verzweifeltes sein. Vielleicht ist es bunt und farbenfroh.
Keine Auffassung ist falsch. An den beiden gezeigten Darstellungen lässt sich erkennen: Es verändert sich.
EAST GERMAN GOTHIC STUDIES is a study of gothic culture, which in East Germany was characterised above all by severe economic deprivation, limited access to information, music carriers and political and social repression. From 1987 onwards, there are increasing notes in Stasi files on self-organised youth groups who put on make-up, toupee their hair, wear necklaces and have a fascination for cemeteries. Politically, they remained misunderstood by state security personnel, which increased the sceptical observation of this youth culture. This is a continuation of my work on the longing and crying of goths in the GDR.
First, I would like to present a work that was part of the group show UNMONUMENTAL MOMENTS at the Jena Kunstverein, 2022:
Fabian Reetz Untitled (East German Gothic Studies), 2022 Archival material, weathered latex on glass, steel, 86.5 x 40 x 20 cm
The installation by Fabian Reetz consists of two rectangular steel bodies, whose fronts are each closed by a pane of glass. The artist has covered them with latex and exposed them to direct sunlight and the effects of the weather over a long period of time. The material, which is opaque and impermeable to air in its original state, becomes an irregularly structured, translucent surface that bears witness to tensions and cracks as a result of this artificially produced ageing process. This semipermeable filter partially and restrictedly reveals another component of the installation: a picture of the band “The Cure”. This is part of a fan calendar that – among others – had a permanent place in his parents’ kitchen in the 1990s.
With this installation, which connects the private with the public, Fabian Reetz reflects on changes in systems of reference over time. In doing so, he creates minimalist objects that on the one hand pick up on the cult of idols, and on the other ask about their temporality. “Being a fan, living one’s own life through someone else, fulfilling one’s own desires through someone else’s career – these were mechanisms of escapism for young people in the GDR. In the 90s, the Wave Gothic Treffen emerged from this subculture. Part of the founding myth is “The Cure” concert on Leipzig’s Festwiese, for which large numbers of starving goths from all corners of the defunct GDR made the pilgrimage, only to be beaten up by skinheads afterwards.
2022 marks the 30th anniversary of the 30th anniversary of the festival, the protagonists of the time are writing books and an institutionalised classification of the youth movement of the time is beginning. At the same time, there are newer fan groups around bands like “The Cure” and “Depeche Mode”, networked via forums and social media, in which the focus is on queerness, sexuality and playing with the gender roles of these bands. Agendas shift, while the projection screen in the form of Robert Smith’s lipstick and cobwebby hair is still onstage after decades.”
(Excerpt from the exhibition text by Michaela Mai, 2022)
installation shot by Jannis Uffrechtdetail
CONCEPT SKETCHES FOR A NEW INSTALLATION
The following is an immersive spatial installation that deepens my preoccupation with goth culture.
In southern Thuringia, there has been a slate quarrying area near Lehesten since the 13th century, which is a source of identity for the surrounding villages. Most of the houses here are clad in slate. Since industrialisation, the region has been in a productive but socio-economically precarious position. During the GDR, mining was dominated by the planned economy, the economic situation deteriorated visibly, and in the 1990s mining came to an end. Outside the small village centres, there are mainly two-storey, simple single-family houses covered with slate. After the end of quarrying, the material became more expensive and since then there have been hardly any new building projects with slate. The cultural and economic history of this milieu in southern Thuringia can be traced on the basis of the material. The roofing of the houses works by nailing the uniform shingles to the outer façade of the house. Contrary to this traditional procedure, I would like to knot slate tiles with decorative chains.
Self-dyed shrouds and self-made jewellery are an integral part of goth fashion during the GDR. Due to the lack of appropriate clothing, an inventive dedication to a gothic outfit was necessary, which was picked up via West German television and through magazines. Often this went hand in hand with resistance to conservative parents and was an intense act as a moment of demarcation in a restrictive state. For me, slate bricks linked by jewellery chains carry the lifeworld of goths in East Germany, as they combine the tension of one’s own parental home with breaking out through individualised, self-made looks.
While at the end of the 1980s the goth scene mainly found its place in youth clubs and sometimes in cemeteries and private cellars, in the 1990s it was places like the Moritzbastei or the Darkflower in Leipzig that were central to the scene. Old vaulted cellars are often venues for goth clubs, inspired by the iconic Batcave in London.
The installation consists of funnel-shaped, thin steel scaffolding to which slate panels are tied – creating individual columns. The slate plates are knotted together by jewellery chains, which on the one hand refer to Gothic jewellery, such as the chains by Robert Smith (see appendix). On the other hand, it is important to me to understand the handling of the slate as fashion. The funnel-shaped objects are in turn attached by wire ropes and jewellery chains either to the beams, or to the walls of the interior by eyebolts. As can be seen in the sketches, the columns with wire ropes arched by tension are reminiscent of vaulted Gothic clubs. With the columns, the material that is normally used for exterior façades is also brought into the interior and re-evaluated. Above the bar, I want to hang a plain slate-clad Schlid that quotes the Batcave’s iconic coffin-shaped logo. (see sketches).
In my presentation of the new crying material I shared my process of crying through Art.
Why do I feel the need to cry trough Art? Is crying enough for me? No. I believe we all find ways to deal with our emotional pain when crying isn’t enough, and for me that is Art. It’s a more active way of crying and dealing with my feelings.
To help me elaborate this idea I created this scheme:
This “Art web” tries to follow an order that is quite hard to understand, even for me, due to the connections that are established between every single stage.
In my presentation I explained these different stages through my works. If you are interested in seeing it in more detail you can check the handout uploaded in the Moodle.
My work is still alternating between the last 2 stages of this process -Laugh not to cry and Will I ever not feel ashamed of crying -, so I thought it would be interesting to share what I haven’t shared yet.
Uma lata do caralho, 2023, can
The expression Uma lata do caralho means “you have a lot of fucking nerve”. In Portuguese this expression uses the word lata, that means can. Alike the red ribbon O mau da fita (you can see it above), I decided to play with the expression that was said to me in an aggressive tone, trough sarcasm.
Obrigadinha, 2023, aluminum foil on paper, 65,3×49,5 cm?UAM, 2023, mix technique, 65,3×49,5 cm
Obrigadinha (“thank you so much” in a sarcastic tone) and ?UAM (MAU? – BAD?) continue this process of questioning and processing what was said to me, through art and sarcasm. Laugh not to cry. Who is the bad one? And is that person really bad or are we seeing it incorrectly? Who do we have to thank? Do we truly need or want to thank that person?
Here is a Zine that I presented in CI class about crying objects, some of them where exhibited during WWS in the atelier where I’ve been working.
The Zine is in Spanish because it is my mother tongue. The first texts are an experience around crying that have marked the relationship I have with being ‘sensitive’ or crying ‘a lot’. About how I was (still am) a crybaby and it is remembered by my parents many times.
In the zine I feature some ‘crying objects’ and scans of my safe space in weaker moments: my bedroom. These objects cry because I accumulate or produce them only when I cry. Among these objects there are nails and hair, wounds or flowers that I have not (forgot or didn’t have the power to) take care of.
I have added a QR to the zine to kinda make it more interactive and make it able to rotate the scanner. I laso added one of the videos that I keep as ‘intimate’ of a conversation with a conversation form a night out in the beach with my friend who also contributed to the Zine with some woodcuts, text and conversations about crying.
One of the pages of the zine, in relation to the room, there are some photos of one of the walls of my room where I have been writing down quotes that I liked, many of them are related to intimacy, love, friendship, pity etc. feelings in general, which is what you move along with the objects.
Some of the words that I wrote down are ‘The Sadness, The Cry, The Pain, The Memory, The Crying, The Grief, The Tear, The Lament’.
I don’t want to translate everything because one of the things I like about working in my mother tongue in a class/university where the language is another is that I can work from my experience and intimacy without feeling as exposed as I do in my home country, but I really want to show one of my favourites songs, ‘AL VERTE LAS FLORES LLORAN’ (1969) by Camarón de La Isla y Paco de Lucía.
“When flowers see you they cry when you walks into your garden because all the flowers would like to look just like you. Retire so that people can’t know about our love The further away the saint is the closer the devotion. And the day”.
Digital draft for the carpet piece “Souvenir of a day in the country with you”
My thoughts on crying in an artistic context, aka artist practice which I define as “artistic crying” culminate in my textile piece “A souvenir of a day in the country with you”. Which I started creating because of my manifested thoughts during “Crying Institute”.
The idea of a universal pain that we all share is a central theme throughout the piece, and the responsibility of mending it is a recurring motif that runs throughout it.
As a work of art, “A Souvenir of a Day in the Country with You” not only invites viewers to reflect on their own experiences of pain and how art can help to heal these wounds, by clearly stating “You inspire me“, “I want to mend your pain“ but it also indirectly delves into the idea of pain within the artistic practice itself. The process of creating these textile carpets is not only physically demanding and time-consuming, particularly in this case because every carpet of the series aims for more complexity in production (in this case: naturally dyeing the fibers, which included collecting 20kg of red onions for example), but it is also emotionally challenging due to the historical dismissal of textile art as a legitimate form of artistic expression. The pattern used in “A Souvenir of a Day in the Country with You” is a direct reference to one of Gunta Stölzl’s woven carpet drafts, which is not only painful because of its’ transfomation into tufted pattern but also because of the dismissal of textiles as a legitimate artistic medium. Historically, textile art has been undervalued and relegated to the realm of craft rather than art. This dismissal of textile art was particularly evident in the Bauhaus movement, where textile artists such as Gunta Stölzl were marginalized and their work was often dismissed as “women’s work.”
Dyeing wool naturally – work in progress
Using an old amateur photograph of two women kissing further emphasizes the idea of reclaiming and reinterpreting history. By taking an image that was likely dismissed or hidden away by society and transforming it into a work of art, I am trying to subvert societal norms and celebrate the beauty of diversity and individuality.
The inclusion of this design element within “A Souvenir of a Day in the Country with You” speaks to the power of art to challenge and reshape societal expectations and norms. Or the pain of not being able to do so, as queer and female artists are still marginalized or only used for queering art institutions and polishing their diverse images.
Lastly, this carpet was also inspired by a very personal encounter. And tries to keepsake it.
Through the fusion of different ideas of pain and artistic expression, “A Souvenir of a Day in the Country with You” offers a unique and deeply moving perspective on the role of art in our lives.
“A Souvenir of a Day in the Country with You” serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of recognizing and embracing the full spectrum of human experience and artistic practice.
Actual drawn carpet draft with 3 times fixed tufting gun
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I feel like I can never be soft. I want to be seen as human. It makes me want to cry because I feel like I can never be authentic. And maintaining a perfect image of the artist feels exploratory towards me. It makes me want to cry because it lives with the art school-taught premise that “good” art can never be personal. It makes me want to cry because it doesn’t shield me from the art world but teaches me to adapt and move on. It makes me want to cry because it means giving myself up to be seen. It makes me want to cry because I constantly have to recontextualize myself and give myself up to be seen.
EXHAUSTION
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it is destruction. It is more than 24/7. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I have to do everything myself. I have to be responsible for everything all the time. And sometimes I don’t want to know how to fix things besides myself. I Don’t want to be my production firm. I don’t want to manage myself.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I am constantly under pressure. To produce to perform.
Surviving makes me want to cry. My endless search makes for meaning makes me want to cry.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because I don’t want to suffer through overstepping my boundaries and pushing my body for a greater cause. Seeing my art as a calling makes me want to cry. I don’t want to sacrifice myself. I do not want to do care work for a world of outsiders.
ECOMONY
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because being financially unstable makes me want to cry. Three days ago, I read: an artist without funding is no artist. I don’t want to be discovered by the art world. I don’t want to capitalize on creating art. Capitalizing on art makes me want to cry.
CLASSWAR
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means fighting against the people who should be your friends and allies. It means not engaging too much. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because whenever I am “succeeding” in this art world I feel like a hypocrite.
My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means comparing myself to others.
It makes me want to cry because it means withstanding dismissal by other artists. My artistic practice makes me want to cry because it means constantly defending myself.
In a contemporary context artistic practice always causes pain. While a more traditional definition might only see the origin of pain and suffering in art-making connected to inner factors such as deep levels of personal reflection, vulnerability, and the willingness to push boundaries and challenge oneself as well as the process of creating art (which can be physically demanding, especially for those who work with their hands or require long periods of time in a sedentary position), a more modern definition might also consider outer factors causing artists in practice immense pain and suffering. Such as the patriarchal structures and class war dominating the art schools, art scene and the art market, causing the artistic practice to become political art itself. And even though an artistic practice might cause artists crying it is no battle cry. It is a new form of crying. A hybrid one. Causing artists to directly and metaphorically weep. Always renewing the pain. Always adapting to pain. Causing greater pain. All in all, artistic practice can be defined as artistic crying.
Once I encountered the data set of Robin Weis [7], I knew I wanted to create a physical data representation of crying data. Specifically, my idea was to create a data physicalisation: a physical artefact that represent data through it material and geometric properties [5]. Data physicalisations have been created for centuries (see dataphys.org/list), however, no known example represents crying data.
Initially, I wanted to use Weis’ data set, as this would allow me to use a ‘large’ data set on crying, rather than having to create one from scratch and only have the time to create a small data set. However, whilst developing concepts, I realised that I missed the personal connection to the data and that certain aspects –the more qualitative aspects, such as the emotion behind the cry– were missing. Therefore, I tracked my own crying data, based on the categories created by Weis. To this I added the emotion behind the tears, and left out the time and duration of the cry, as I wanted to focus on the experience—not tracking the data. This resulted in the following set of 8 cries:
When
Location
Emotion
Intensity
18.10.2022
Home
Angry
3
20.10.2022
Home
Angry
4
16.11.2022
Bike
Sad
2
16.11.2022
Home
Happy
1
25.11.2022
Home
Sad
2
01.12.2022
Home
Sad
3
23.12.2022
Parents’ home
Angry
3
07.02.2023
Home
Sad
2
Whilst creating this data set, I started to think of what a physicalisation of cries would look like. During my presentation, I already stated that: “I don’t want to design a fountain”. Although I must admit that this would be fun, it felt too ‘easy’ and I wanted to challenge myself by imposing the limitation of not representing tears through water. Instead, I decided to focus on the idea of tears leaving our body and brining those tears back, which inspired me to create a data physicalisation which you can eat [2]: where the cries are communicated through taste and texture. Thus the question became, what do tears taste like?
A small background on the taste of tears:
Our tears are composed of water, oils, proteins, and electrolytes, such as sodium and potassium [3]. Due to the electrolytes, tears have a salty taste. There are 3 types of tears: basal/continuous, reflex, and emotional tear [1]. The emotional tears ‘flush out’ stress hormones, whilst at the same time releasing hormones which make you feel better, such as endorphins. Because of this composition, emotional tears are the least salty [3].
Based on the background research, I decided to create chocolate bonbons (chocolate contains endorphins after all), to represent my 8 crying episodes. The bonbon would consist of a ganache and a galette. Each galette is made by boiling glucose syrup and chocolate to 145 degrees Celsius, pouring the liquid on a piece of baking paper to let it cool down, after which it is blended till a powder, which can be evenly distributed using a sieve. The shape and size of the galette would represent the intensity of a cry. The taste of the ganache and galette represents the emotion (Figure 1).
Figure 1. The shape and size of the tears. Each tear would represent the intensity of a cry. Left is the lowest intensity (1) and right the highest (5).
However, an experiment with the galette showed that I could not control the shape: the galette melted and expanded in the oven; even after freezing it first (Figure 2). Therefore, I decided to focus on the texture of the galette to represent the intensity, where I based the texture on conceptual metaphors (e.g., rough is bad, in this case angry) [4]. Besides texture, I would further use the intensity of the taste to represent the intensity of the cry. Thus, both the texture and intensity of the taste represent the intensity of the cry.
Figure 2. Picture of initial experiments with the tear shapes. These either expanded (thus losing their shape) or burned because of the size differences within the shape. Therefore, a new mapping was created, using the texture of the galette.Bottom right shows the used stencil.
The taste of the bonbons represents the emotion of the cry, for which I was inspired by a blog post, which states that the chemical composition of tears changes their taste: angry tears would consist of a lower concentration of moisture and have a higher sodium concentration (thus being saltier), sad tears taste more acidic, and happy tears are supposedly sweeter [6]. I could not find scientific papers to back up these statements. Therefore, this only served as inspiration and is not something I consider to be proven.
Inspired by this, I created the following mappings:
Emotion
Taste
Texture
Angry
Very salty. As anger is often associated with heat, these bonbons contain chilli to make them spicy. The base of the bonbons is dark, bitter chocolate (80%).
Rough
Sad
Salty and acidic, through a higher concentration of lemon juice in the home made glucose syrup. The bonbons are based on milk chocolate, so they are less bitter than the angry tears.
Less rough, by baking it at a lower temperature. However, the texture is still perceivable when eating the galette.
Happy
Sweet and salty, the bonbons are based on white chocolate for intense sweetness.
Glossy and smooth
This mapping was applied to the bonbons, which consist of: (1) a ganache base, made of the respective chocolate (white=happy, milk=sad, pure=angry), salt, and in case of angry, chili, and (2) a chocolate galette made of sugar, the respective chocolate, and home made glucose syrup. The glucose syrup was made by boiling water, sugar, and lemon juice to a 118 degrees Celsius, which allowed me to control the acidity levels. Overall, I created the following bonbons per emotion:
Angry
Figure 3. 3 Bonbons representing the ‘angry cries’. The rougher the texture, the higher the intensity of the cry. Both the galette and ganache taste salty and spicy (due to added chilli), where the level of saltiness and spiciness represent the intensity (higher levels represent a higher intensity), and are made from 80% dark chocolate.Figure 3.1. A close up of one of the angry cry bonbons, showing the texture of the galette.
Sad
Figure 4. 4 Bonbons representing ‘sad’ cries. The texture of the galettes is less rough than the angry cries and the galettes have been coated with cocoa powder to create a thin veil over the galette, making them easier to differentiate from the angry cries. Due to the milk chocolate and lower concentration of salt, these bonbons are not as bitter and salty as the angry cries. However, the ratio of lemon juice in the glucose syrup has been increased for an increased acidity.
Figure 4.1. A close up of a sad cry bonbon.
Happy
Figure 5. 1 Bonbon representing a happy cry. Whereas the angry and sad cries can be seen as negative emotions, the happy cry is positive, Therefore, the texture of the galette is shiny and smooth, and the overall taste of the bonbon is sweet and salty, due to a mix of white chocolate and salt.
Data representation
Together these bonbons resulted in the following overall data physicalisation:
Figure 6. By tasting each bonbon, the intensity and emotion of the cry can be determined. The higher the intensity, the stronger the flavourings (salt, chilli, or acidity). Reflecting on this creation, it is probably difficult to determine the exact intensity of the emotion (and perhaps even emotion) by only eating 1 bonbon. Therefore, either a legend needs to be given to clarify the concept. This legend should be edible as well, so we can determine what the minimum (lowest intensity) and maximum are (highest intensity).
References
1. Nicholas M. Farandos, Ali K. Yetisen, Michael J. Monteiro, Christopher R. Lowe, and Seok Hyun Yun. 2015. Contact Lens Sensors in Ocular Diagnostics. Advanced Healthcare Materials 4, 6: 792–810. https://doi.org/10.1002/adhm.201400504
2. Florian ’ Floyd’ Mueller, Sarah Goodwin, Han Phan, Rohit Khot, Kim Marriott, Jionghao Lin, Yan Wang, Tim Dwyer, Jialin Deng, Kun-Ting Chen, and Kim Mar-Riott. Data as Delight: Eating data; Data as Delight: Eating data. https://doi.org/10.1145/3411764.3445218
3. William H. Frey, Denise Desota-Johnson, Carrie Hoffman, and John T. McCall. 1981. Effect of Stimulus on the Chemical Composition of Human Tears. American Journal of Ophthalmology 92, 4: 559–567. https://doi.org/10.1016/0002-9394(81)90651-6
4. Jörn Hurtienne, Christian Stößel, and Katharina Weber. 2009. Sad is heavy and happy is light. In Proceedings of the 3rd International Conference on Tangible and Embedded Interaction – TEI ’09 (TEI ’09), 61. https://doi.org/10.1145/1517664.1517686
5. Yvonne Jansen, Pierre Dragicevic, Petra Isenberg, Jason Alexander, Abhijit Karnik, Johan Kildal, Sriram Subramanian, and Kasper Hornbæk. 2015. Opportunities and Challenges for Data Physicalization. In Proceedings of the 33rd Annual ACM Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems, 3227–3236. https://doi.org/10.1145/2702123.2702180
6. Eunah Lee Kwon. 2008. Different Tears Different Taste. University Newspaper. Retrieved from http://smtimes.sookmyung.ac.kr/news/articleView.html?idxno=286
7. Robin Weis. 2016. Crying. Retrieved from http://robinwe.is/explorations/cry.html
Tränen bestehen zu 98% aus Wasser. Wasser finden wir überall auf dieser Welt, weshalb dieser Stoff zu recht auch als Baustein des Lebens bezeichnet wird. Über Wasser denken wir nicht nach. Wir denken nicht nach, wieviel davon in unsere Essen steckt, in der Luft oder in uns selbst. Wir versuchen, Wasser zu meiden, indem wir daraus Limonade machen, Kaffee oder Tee. Über Tränen wird nachgedacht. Wir bilden uns Meinungen, verhandeln diese auf emotionaler Basis, tauschen uns darüber aus oder weinen im Stillen. Was steckt also hinter diesen 2%?
Wasser an sich, und so auch Tränen, können die verschiedensten Formen annehmen. Auch Tränen können frieren, sich verflüssigen und ebenso verdampfen, sie nehmen Gestalt an, verändern diese wieder, verbinden sich, stoßen sich ab, sinken ein, perlen herunter, sammeln sich oder verschwinden. Wie verhalten sich Tränen zu der Umwelt? Nicht nur zu mir? Wie tritt ein losgelöster Teil von mir in Kontakt mit meinem Umfeld? Ist es überhaupt ein Teil meiner selbst? Hat jemals zu mir gehört?
Ich bemerke, dass das Verhalten meiner Tränen meine Emotionen beeinflusst. Ich kann ihnen bewusst beim Verlassen meiner selbst zusehen, wie sie sich verselbstständigen, wie ich Kontrolle verliere, wie ich sauer auf sie werde, wenn sie mein Gesicht hinunter laufen und ohne zögern in meinem Pullover verschwinden. Ich kann sie genauso wenig kontrollieren wie meine Emotionen, die sich dabei fast sprunghaft bilden.
Ich ertappe mich dabei, sie auf verschiedene Untergründe tropfen zu lassen und mich damit auseinander zu setzen. Wieviel Zeit vergeht, bis sie verschwinden? Wieso finde ich das gut/schrecklich? Ich werde bockig, wenn sie auf Stoff landen, sich verflüchtigen, einen Fleck von sich selbst hinterlassen, mit dem ich mich nicht mehr identifizieren kann. Ich bin wütend, wenn meine Tränen versiegen, ohne Spur, als ob sie selbst und meine Gefühle, die sie ausgelöst hatten, keine Bedeutung tragen würden.
Ich tropfe sie auf die Erde meiner Zimmerpflanze und frage mich, ob diese nach 100 Tränen eingeht oder ob ich spinne. Ob es wahr ist, dass Pflanzen schlechte Laune spüren? Bisher ist noch nichts passiert.
Ich tropfe sie auf eine Glasplatte und zwinge sie, so lang mit mir zu bleiben, bis ich ihnen das Verschwinden gestatte. Das ist schließlich das mindeste, was sie mir schulden. Mit mir zu verweilen und alles zu fühlen oder nichts zu fühlen oder zu denken und nicht zu denken was ich will.
So sitzen wir dann da. Wir starren uns an. Jeder wartet auf das Verschwinden des Anderen. Dennoch bin ich die einzige, die bleibt. Die Träne verschwindet irgendwann. Aber es gibt mir Zeit, mich zu fokussieren, meine Gedanken zu sammeln. So bin ich nicht sauer, sondern beruhigt, wenn die Zeit angemessen ist, wenn ich mit dem Verschwinden der Tränen und dem Verweilen von mir selbst Frieden geschlossen habe. Sonst fühle ich mich zurückgelassen. Ein Grund, noch mehr zu weinen.
Oberfläche
Zeit bis zum Verschwinden der Träne
mein Gefühl nach dem Verschwinden
Stoff
0s
sauer, wütend, bockig
Erde
13s
argwöhnisch, gequält
Papier
443s
bekümmert, betrübt, mürrisch
Kork
1386s
beruhigt, sorglos, ruhig, gelassen
Glas
2574s
erleichtert, gelangweilt, leer
How long until it disappears? Zu kurz. Meistens zu kurz. Manchmal genau richtig. Oder zu lang.
Art therapy helps us to understand and depict psychological processes. It is often used when you do not know more and cannot express your problems in words.
In our work on this topic, we started a self-experiment:
What does crying look like for us?
What do we feel when we cry and how can we express our feelings?
During my self-experiment, two snapshots of my drawing were taken. While I described the former as more excited and dynamic, and the latter as calmer, I noticed in the following discourse that the Institute determined it differently.
What brings us to these different descriptions?
The institute could only look and analyse the two static images and drew its conclusions from the observation of these.
However, I could still feel the movements that led to the two pictures.
first picturesecond picture
The first picture was created by wild and fast movements and the second by calm and relaxing strokes over the previous painting.
So I remembered the performative gestures during the painting and therefore drew different conclusions from my works.
In art therapy, is the process also important to the result of the expression of feelings?
Are performative processes during painting equally important and relevant for art therapy?
For a sufficient and in-depth analysis of the psychic processes, both are probably balanced. One could even say that the behavior before painting should also be included in the analysis.
This allows you to better understand the person’s feelings.
Expressing and portraying my own feelings was a new and interesting experience for me. I had to deal with my feelings, which I usually tend to suppress in part.
While words could not have described what I was feeling at that moment, the pictures could.
Since I came to create images with Midjourney, I’ve been trying to test the limits of this AI. Let’s leave all the controversies aside for a moment to use it as tool, to reflect on the inevitable bias of this platform.
Trying to escape from surreal intergalactic scenes and the fashion images I’ve been scrolling on my Instagram, I was looking for subjects that were not just hard to materialise but also hard to imagine – at least in my limited mind.
Back in Brazil, I always wanted to do a photoshoot of men crying but as I didn’t want to use models – and we do have a very macho culture – I couldn’t even imagine being successful with this project. This then felt like a good prompt: Man crying.
/imagine Man crying with tear in his red eyes, smooth face, chiaroscuro, crowd unfocused, many televisions turned on, detailed facial features/imagine Man crying with tear in his red eyes, smooth face, chiaroscuro, crowd unfocused, many televisions turned on, detailed facial features
Let’s start with the referential being. If you ever tried AI you might have noticed how unlikely it is to get a non-white subject if you don’t explicitly describe a body that it not white. This annoyed me in every trial, always getting a white male if I’d just typed “man”.
Now think about your own visual culture. Films, photographs, videoclips – how many times have you watched a black or latin man crying? What was the context? How was the facial expressions? Smooth? Desperate?
Man from Colombia crying with tear in his red eyes, chiaroscuro, street, houses, televisions turned on, wide angle, long shot
Then I wanted to check what a Colombian man looks like on Midjourney. The prompt “red eyes” was a trap, I know.
As a human being we know that red eyes could state that one has cried for a long time even if there’s not apparent tears on their eyes anymore. But that’s too subtle to prompt.
Instead of getting red iris, as I would assume I would get, the red came mostly as bruises and the smooth crying expressions I was looking for never came out. This reminded me that the few times I saw a man crying (not in person) were in catastrophic scenarios.
Reading “The Will To Change” by Bell Hooks I felt like getting deeper with understanding how do I deal with male feelings, therefore, male tears. Being daughter of a father who cries A LOT, my experience with male tears was pretty singular comparing to the general visual culture I had and I confess it didn’t make me better dealing with them.
But I know that images can help us to empathise and, after this exercise, I may go back to the “crying men” project to at least help me to enlarge my own visual culture.
I would like to share two of my personal works about tears.
The first one is my self-portrait and tears of anger. About the identity and pain of women.
Tears can express many emotions, but in this work they are tears of anger.
I often feel cut off, vulnerable and aggressive at the same time, or that both genders are in the same body, which is why I shed tears of anger and sadness.
I agree with the Japanese sociologist Chizuko Ueno’s saying that women are a situation, and the dilemmas faced by women and men do not correspond, because a woman’s suffering stems from the fact that she herself is a woman, while a man’s suffering often stems from the fact that he is not a big man on top.
The tears recorded in the form of paintings express the same point of view. Women’s tears are not always an expression of vulnerability, at least not in this work of mine, because I know clearly that the reason why I shed tears of anger is because of my internal helplessness and pain about my biological gender as a woman, and secondly, these tears are also an expression of wanting to resist.
Next is another work of mine called “Tears of Discipline”.
After a painful and sad tear, I used a mirror and a camera to record the tears and habitually wondered: Is it beautiful for me to shed tears like this?
There were many clips from movies and dramas in my mind, and following these clues I searched for information that surprised me. It turned out that many of the messages I received during my growing up process were processed and disciplined, even tears were disciplined.
I am against regulated tears. Tears are a natural flow of emotions. Not an action to cater to the male gaze.
The comic I made is about a claustrophobic fart that gets trapped in a small dark room. He breaks out into panic and sheds tears of overwhelm. This scene acts as a metaphor, of being put in a stressful situation, by outside forces, without having a choice, the claustrophobic feeling of overwhelm and helplessness. In the comic, by changing ones perspective about oneself – (the fart realizing that he is not even solid, and thus having many possibilities of escaping )- you can free yourself of this feeling.
While this might help some people, it is important to acknowledge that the happy end in the comic doesn’t translate to reality and that overwhelm can cause mental conditions like burnout and is to be taken seriously.
This is a short comic I made about a heartbroken dog that can’t seem to stop crying…
Also, I will take this opportunity to do some shameless self-advertising: I post some of my comics on my art instagram, if you’d like to follow me: @marinaramoska :))
