A MEMORABLE MOMENT

 



Workshop space during art retreat

 

 

On a recent week long art retreat focusing on three dimensional skin and structure, I was introduced to pig casings (sausage skins) as a material by American artist Pat Hickman. (www.pathickman.com/‎)  It is an unusual material and at times I wondered whether I was working with living or dead material. It is stretchy, has a slight smell and is unmistakenly a fleshy part of an animal. (See following blog for more details about this material and the image of my artwork described in this story.)

During the course of the week I received the news that a very dear Auntie was dying. I took an afternoon off from the workshop to visit her in hospital. She was 94 and had been a warm and loving influence during my childhood. As I sat by her bed, I noticed her skin was shrunken and stretched taut over her skeleton. She was barely conscious but indicated she knew I was there. I talked about the wonderful things she had taught me as a child and how much I had enjoyed her company. I told her how much I appreciated her love for my children and how much she meant to them. I sat and held her hand and gave her a sip of water. I was struck by how much we are sheltered by the process of death and dying in our culture. At times she would raise her hand to wipe a tear from her eye. It was a privilege to spend time with her as she was transitioning from this world to another. I kissed her on her forehead, my lips registering her paper like skin. I was shocked by her fragility and there was a bitter sweet element to our final encounter.

On the 3 hour drive back to the workshop I reflected on her life and her influence in my family and on my own identity. I felt immensely sad and my visit made me think about my own mortality. I felt a deep sense of unease about witnessing the decay of her physical body. The confronting - and comforting - process of saying goodbye to those we love is difficult. My father had died 11 years ago and I had washed his body after he died and dressed and cared for him in life and death. This age old ritual while disturbing was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. This comforting and confronting ritual is now the business of undertakers who protect us from the impact of death.

I returned to my workshop with few words to describe the other world I had encountered with my Auntie who was in between life and death. I believe that our cultural taboos around death stop us from experiencing the pain and beauty when human life comes to an end.  As I started my creative work again I was unsettled about the process of death. Then I realised what better material than this strange organic skin to express my thoughts about life and death.  My despair, isolation and grief were central to my process of creating. There were limited words to express my emotions.

I made a figure from wire and then covered it in skin and tenderly wrapped it in silk. I bound the arms and legs and placed it in a foetal position. I placed the figure inside a structure that made room for death.   A space big enough for a ritual to honour the dead. (See next blog for images of the artpiece.)

On viewing my figure I felt deeply moved. I think it is a memorial to the hour I spent sitting with Auntie Mave. It pays witness to my love and loss and her life and death.

Auntie Mavis died 48 hours after my visit.

Auntie Mave in hospital 2 weeks
before she died

Auntie Mave and Uncle Jim on their wedding day