I saw a ‘Gucci Tears’ blog entry (https://cryinginstitute.artnextsociety.net/2022/11/10/gucci-tears/) with some images of tears displayed as accessories on the runway. Since then I have seen tears again as an accessory and equal to clothing represented as ‘ready to wear’ accesory or makeup. This is a small compilation to show how they have been differently represented .
From the entry ‘Gucci Tears’ entry I wanted to underline the concept of
tears as a product
Gucci Fall Ready to Wear 2020 at Milan Fashion Week.
Silicon tears by MUA Thomas de Kluyver seen on Gucci Fall 2019 at Milan Fashion Week.
Cristal tears by MUA Peter Philips for Acne Studios SS collection 2020.
Helmut Lang Seen by Shayne Oliver SS18 campaign.
Ribbon Tears by MUA Thomas de Kluyver on Simone Rocha SS collection 2023.
Makeup Details from Adeline André Spring / Summer 1999 ‘Melancholy’. source https://www.instagram.com/p/CIq47XaAasZ/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y%3D
I want to close this post with my reply in the blog entry that I mentioned before, a short quote from Anne Boyer in The Undying ‘I would rather write about anything else, not only for fear of the pain of examining the pain, but also for fear of turning the pain into a product’.
To quote a curator Lars Rummel: “The installation creates a space that allows a profoundly human experience without the need to fear the consequences: crying. It reaches out to all who mourn regardless of the reason – to make a connection, create awareness, and have a space to grieve: where no tear is shed in vain. Life and joy can grow out of sorrow – be it energetically, spiritually, or emotionally, it always leads to growth and transformations.”
From Winter of 2019 until recently Kasia has been collecting her tears – first when she cried after losing 3 loved ones in the Autumn 2019. Then with the start of COVID-19 she “trained herself” to cry in order to relieve her anxiety. And then to explore the chemical composition of human tears to see how they could make a healthy tiny marine ecosystem. To use her own tears to host a sea life became a form of catharsis and a constructive way to deal with personal and also then environmental loss. In addition to that Kasia started investigating how her mental health (and level of the aforementioned anxiety) is affected by the narrative of her “online life” – news & info feeds which were curated by algorithms. She started to wonder whether she could use this to cry and thus feed her mini-oceans.
The result: an experience, set in a 4 parts.
PART 1: THE MINI OCEAN COLLECTION. There are 30 to 50 tiny bottles – each contains my tears and a North Sea algae. Each has a date, a reason for crying and the name of hosted algae. There is a log of Kasia’s diet from the period of the research, accompanied by a log of presence of chemical elements (N, P, K) important for healthy growth of algae. These elements can be regulated by a diet. Artist wanted to know how she could use her bodily waste to care for the environment, which we have destroyed? The main question she posed here was: “Can I look after my physical and mental health in order to be of “use” to other life forms? Or can environmental health be an indicator of our own health”
PART 4: WORKSHOP-PERFORMANCE It is a form of a guided mediation for a group of 10 to 15, led by Kasia in collaboration with the Moirologist Bot, using queues and prompts which I have learnt about while researching what makes us cry.
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.
Multiple joys, multiple relationships, multiplied jobs, multiplied dreams I speculated on, and multiplied realities I raced to be part of, were reduced and calmed in the very first days of this year, leaving just the adjective ‘multiple’ behind, in a quite different context.
one and two
I have eaten 6 mandarins in the last two days: two in the B3 department, while waiting for further instructions; one on the way to the Stätionare Aufnahme; two at the final destination in the C4’s waiting room; and one while waiting for the first drops of cortisol to enter my body, announced to produce a bitter taste in one’s mouth.
Entering the C4 building means seeing ‘these’ faces, and jumping from the question “why am I here?” that manifests my anger, and the injustice done by the higher forces, to a certain comfort, which always happens when one makes acquaintanceships within a context.
This bond is present in our eye contact, the little smiles drawn on the differently born, differently aged, and differently sick faces, and the codes of confirmation that we are belonging to this multiplied version of the life. The most obvious sign of bonding is nodding: either several nods followed by gently closed eyelids, or one, sharp and precise, that establishes the thought of a nodder in a form of a statement.
For these days, I’ve been wondering, but failed to ask in my broken German: which cities are the photographed on these photorealistic pictures hanging on the C4 walls?
Before I failed many questions in German, I failed to paint a photorealistic scene of the white horses running on the meadow during my bachelor studies, which was a huge disappointment for my whole surrounding back then. I gave up and bought myself a good camera since I could not find a reason good enough to compete with such a device. I am quite sure now that it was me in resistance, more likely than a lack of skill to depict the horses.
For a hyperactive, always on-run lady, for one that plans enormously while living in the future, that is in control of everything, for such folk, or anybody else, it is extremely hard to accept the fact that such a disease can enter their bodies and impede them in any sense. Can you fail a disease? Not in a sense of giving up life, but rather a failure that tricks the brain, so it thinks there is no disease at all.
Besides my C4 friends that share the infusion and waiting time with me for two days now, I have experienced some quite new, I dare to say interesting body sensations during the examinations. Different body parts of mine were electrified with the needle producing this strange effect of an inner massage, or the sensation of having your index finger directly in a power socket. Another needle, obviously bigger, pierced the particular point of my lower back, targeting the little gap between the vertebras of the spinal cord. The transparent liquid was sucked out from my back filling 2 little glass containers. This uncomfortable pain, more of a pressure feels like a tiny hand that tries to pass through the even smaller doors in my spine, and gets stuck for some minutes, leaving this feeling for some hours later – as if your whole back body opens, air comes inside through this tiny hole and you can breathe through the pain.
I had bought the expensive package of caffeine-free, deep-roasted coffee before coming to the C4 this morning, aiming to start my new, healthy life along with the journey with the Sick Body, after which dr. Fritsch said that coffee is the only way to suppress the headaches I have been having these days. After I am finished with my 6th mandarine, and the tests’ results are announced for this day I will head to the coffee place and purchase some deep-roasted, caffeine-enriched medicaments.
With such a condition, it is not about how it is at the moment, but what comes next and how will it affect you. For somebody that never lives in the Now, this could be a unique way to finally trust and dwell in that place, as the only safe space that gives you a moment to breathe and spares you from anxious thoughts and uncertainty of the following days.
Am I awarded here a tiny, barely visible bit? Spared the future rat race, running for everything I can be part of, of the omnipresent fear of missing out while diving into the complete uncertainty, that wipes you harshly with its heavy days of unpredictability. I am not the one in control at the moment, but I have full capacity, the Dragon voice, the unbeatable strength I always gain when out of control, and a new skill – getting a lot of rest.
Dear Now, my old friend, we are starting to bond. We might even make peace soon.
I have almost forgotten how it is to have a healthy right hand in these two months. On the morning of the third cortisol day, I can feel a bit more, again, with the 3rd injection of 500ml that drops slowly, entering my veins and making me trust my fingers again.
I have two generations on both sides of my chair: on the left one is a young woman whom I share the metal infusion holder with, I measured – it is approximately a meter between our chairs as if this pole with two bottles of cortisol cuts the distance between us; on the right side, I see peripherally an old lady in the red jumper, that has not moved that much since I entered the room, as if her eyes dived inwards, looking into a depth of her own inner body rather than I hospital walls that surround her.
On my third day, I cried all along the way here with pauses, different paces, rhythms, and amounts of outpourings, inside the three trains and two tram stations. I have eaten one, seventh mandarin that helps kill the bitterness in my mouth, and drank half of the black tea I prepared this morning, as it helps reduce the headaches. On my third day, I am crying with such an overwhelming mixture of pain and hope, thinking of this as a potential adventure, and multiplication that occurred as my partner in future crimes, rather than an enemy.
I trust in you Sick body. I have kissed your carrot-oil-smelling shoulders before each exam because I know that we are born for the great things – the great beauty of life among other greatness.
It is a Saturday – one of those that have no influence on the perception of the day, or the importance of the number or the name of it. As if it would make any difference to call it Tuesday instead. However, even though it does not change anything in my own day, I know that it is a Saturday because there is no photorealism hanging on the walls while sitting in the B4, Ebene 40. Just white. Pure whiteness.
I have never seen my young physical and emotional body in such pain, dear dr. Köbele, making hard each movement and thought of mine, with heavy mood swings followed by tears, no matter what the emotion is. Heaviest tears so far, split in two bodies, separated by a border, covering our faces: my own, and my beautiful mama’s.
Do you know how frightening it is to be called with the code ”urgent”? My legs froze today, and my heart blew up, breaking through the thin skin of my chest.
What is it?
2 x 15
Today I had two sessions closed in the strange metal body of that loud machine, two times half an hour inside of the capsule. Surrounded by the disturbing sounds coming from the walls of it, I had a chance to picture my brain cells dancing within the empty skull, bumping onto the walls of it and changing the rhythm according to the song played by the MR.
What is it, dr. Köbele?
“If we find it, you will have to receive a contrast medicine.” they said. My blood was mixed with the gadolinium contrast medium in the second session, which means that they had found it.
The second session made me think: this is the second round or the second encounter of a potentially big change. A big step backward, perhaps, or forwards, inevitably? For the second time, I received this terrible news, still not knowing what is it.
What makes my hands numb for so long? Doctor Köbele?
Thank you, Sick Body, for being so brave not to hide your most honest feelings and reactions. Thank you for hiking several kilometers and discovering all these beautiful hills today after being exposed to the capsule and contrasts, because you faced those white-coated, frozen, tale-like scenes, long trunks, thin grass coming out of the white carpet, tiny branches that in their extreme geometrical confusion created a puzzle. They looked the same as MR pictures of my brain, doctor – impossible to understand, with the complicated history and unexpected changes, even entity, in a way I understand it.
Lost & Found
Today I lost my earring, right before entering the capsule, and my left glove while running through the snowy hills. But I found the strength to support myself on this weird journey, producing powerful tears that burn my face and melt the snow.
…until you call me, I am not going to move anywhere.
Encountering a disease has ambivalent consequences. On one hand, it is a terror of potential disabilities, changes, and in its worst case permanent absence from the white leather, quite a comfortable sofa we are sitting in while receiving the news. On the other hand, it is an unexplainable blessing, a potentiality, a touch that burns our chest and lets us embrace the overwhelmedness.
Today I met dr. Köbele
I read all the magazines you have on the shelf, daily horoscopes for the past week, ate two Spekulatius cookies, and explored each corner of the waiting room until the voice of the nurse struggled to pronounce this long last name of mine.
And there I was, waiting for you to tell me, whatever you have to tell me.
Observing my body – my fingers paralyzed, my toes hurting, my body getting weaker each second, my daily life changing, my brain not working properly, tired, exhausted, disabled. Today, I finally took into consideration – I might be sick.
Today I liked your jokes, dr. Köbele. Your way of delivering, examining, and telling stories about possibilities and disabilities.
Dear dr. Köbele, today I felt weaker than ever, lonelier than ever, and far away from everything that gives me strength. But today I loved my body in one morning more than I had loved it in these 26 years and stared directly at the sun longer than I could have ever imagined it.
I walked down the street with a great burden on my chest and sun on my face. I let the tears outpour and slide down my cheeks. If gravity were to change its direction, the tears would climb up the sky, directly to the Sun.
Dear dr. Köbele, my tears burnt on the sun and no pain accompanied this great beauty.
Directly at the Sun
…I remembered the book I have read two times and that never left my mind – “Starring at the Sun” by Irvin David Yalom, an American existential psychiatrist and author of both fiction and nonfiction that shares a precious moment from the individual and group therapy with people who were afraid to look directly at the Sun.
I suddenly remembered one afternoon an idiom about crying, crying and laughing. It made me very curious, it seems that in my perception, crying and laughing are a pair of antonyms, are there times when these two emotions are expressed at the same time?
Have you ever had such an experience? Laughing when you are in tears of pain, or shedding tears when you are extremely happy and joyful.
Crying and laughing at the same time
Whether crying uncontrollably or laughing wantonly, the purpose is to regulate in order to adapt to the internal senses and the needs of the environment
Psychologists have pondered the relationship between behavioral responses and emotions, and have argued that each underlying emotion has a unique circuit. For example, when something we hope to accomplish ultimately fails, we experience the anticipation of sadness, and this emotion activates a series of neural structures that create substantial sadness in the limbic system, which then continues along the circuit to produce several responses in the face and trunk, i.e., pouting/crying/and body curling. This is consistent with common sense. However, the only possible explanation for the situation of laughing while extremely sad is that there is a temporary psychological abnormality that interferes with the normal emotional response circuitry. . This abnormal reaction is mentioned in the paper by Oriana R. Aragón et al. To paraphrase my words, there is no direct causal link between the kind of emotion that appears in the face of the event and the behavioral response, both laughing and crying are part of the regulation, and the meaning of the behavioral response is an effective regulation to reconcile the internal and external environment.
<Dimorphous Expressions of Positive Emotion: Displays of Both Care and Aggression in Response to Cute Stimuli>
On 14.12. 2022. the Wednesday late night, a sharp scream broke out from Marienstraße. This was a performance work shop, organized by me, called crazy dark room.
Hier was the introduction, to let participants quickly get into it.
Crazy Dark Room Let your Limitation free!
Content: First, u need to think now u are a Psychosis. Explain the story in your mind about how you have gone crazy. Second, I will lead u one by one in to my dark room. Third, u start to performance, let your emotion and your story free in this dark empty space.
Last, short discussion/ write down how u feel.
As i tried to forget myself from the reality and let all anger or dirty thoughts take control of me, the thoughts of “Nobody hier loves me, Nobody hier cares me. I am useless.” came up to my mind and drove me truly cried.
I went so exhausted that i have to end the work shop in the end.
Later as we were doing the feedback round, my friend who was also in the work shop, cried. And one of my roommate, who was rushing back to the apartment when she got the call from other roommates, hug me tightly for about 20 minutes after i came out from my room.
The work shop was firstly designed to be a chance that i imagined to revenge back against those people who fucked up with me in the real life. But in the end it turned out that the only people i hurt, are those who care about me.
The food designer Marije Vogelzang, has launched a project before:
Eat Love Budapest
In this workshop, the women feed the stranger while they can not see arch other faces.
It’s such a beautiful touching project, that connects the people through the most common way that almost everyone has: feeding by someone else (like the child by the mother). Tears down when the workshop ended even for me just as a watcher.
Crying is more as a private experience for me. But this time was my first time to cry just because of a workshop.
Through the workshop, I understood the idea that it’s hard to judge someone after u went into his heart. It’s hard to hate someone if u have cried for him. Tears can really be the most powerful weapon in this world. Behind tear is the name love.
the link to the website: https://www.marijevogelzang.nl/past-projects/eat-love-budapest/