M A T E R IA L C U L T U R E
Domestic
Subversion
S T O R Y B Y
Elizabeth Lopeman
Laura Splan disturbs our notions of beauty
and femininity by crafting traditionally
feminine objects out of unpredictable mate-
rials. For her series Trousseau, the Brook-
lyn-based artist uses cosmetic facial peel in
lieu of fabric to craft women’s gloves, fans
and negligees. The material, a plastic-based
gel that dries on the skin before being peeled
off, retains impressions of hairs and pores
and gives the impression of shed epithelial
tissue. “There is at once beauty in its fragil-
ity and repulsion in its corporeal source,”
says Splan. After the initial construction
the pieces are machine-embroidered—a pro-
cess she says took “a lot of trial and error”—
with delicate representations of chemical
and anatomical structures. Serotonin, a neu-
rotransmitter for functions of sex, sleep
and appetite, appears on a negligee; retinal
rods and cones on a fan; and naso-lacrimal
glands and ducts on a handkerchief.
While her materials change, all of the
work has a relationship to the body and
most of it has a foundation in textiles. This
winter five of Splan’s virus-shaped doilies
are being exhibited in a group show at the
Jonkoping County Museum in Jonkoping,
Sweden. Though historically doilies are
handcrafted, Splan likes the idea of making
them with a computer-programmed embroi-
dery machine as a response to postmodern
life. “Here the maker is sitting by the glow
of the computer screen instead of by the
light of the fireplace. It’s a 21st-century pro-
cess for our 21st-century domestic land-
scape,” she says. Like viruses, doilies can
and have been passed from one generation
to the next. They are consistent with Splan’s
interest in what she calls “domestication of
the visceral,” or a heightened awareness of
the microbial world in our homes as we’ve
become accustomed to thoughts of bioter-
rorism, health epidemics and antibacterial
products. Our ideas about traditionally
handcrafted domestic objects are subverted
by the use of materials with a direct connec-
tion to the body. The work examines “how
the cultural landscape defines and prescribes
our gender, sexuality and sense of worth,”
says Splan. It also suggests that those cul-
tural prescriptions come with a cost to the
body, which makes admiring the beautiful
aesthetic of the objects feel ironic and, at
times, uncomfortable.
Perhaps the most evocative material in
Splan’s quiver is her own blood, a perfect
medium for toying with our perceptions of
what is beautiful and what is revolting. “The
process sort of reconnects the somatic ex-
perience with the psychological or neuro-
logical,” she explains. All of the drawings
done with blood are from a fine-tip pen, so
the lines are like delicate sepia threads. In
the first series of drawings rendered with
blood, called Thought Patterns, are images
of pyramidal cells and dendrites, but the
drawings look like lacey foliage. Splan says
using blood gives her a “sense of aesthetic
freedom” because of its reflexive relation-
ship to the content, while the fine lines allow
for a more formal approach to drawing. Her
newest drawings play with the formal mini-
malist square with grid lines that give the
appearance of fine muslin. “There was
something very methodical and meditative
about the process that reminded me of knit-
ting and needlework. So I suppose it was
somewhat logical that I would combine the
idea of handmade textiles with blood-draw-
ing work,” says Splan.
“W e’ve become the material,” said cura-
tor Steven Skov Holt in a lecture in which
he discussed Splan’s pieces in his 2008 show
called “Manufactured” at the Museum of
Contemporary Craft in Portland, OR. By
using the body as material for textile-based
craft, historically thought o f as women’s
work, Splan shifts the conversation about
her work in a way that hearkens back to
Miriam Schapiro’s
femmage
pieces. But in
its nearly painful intimacy with the body,
Splan’s work has a fresh and universal appli-
cation: all viewers have their own bodies
to contemplate. “It’s an experiment of sorts
to see if the biological can transcend the
cultural and vice versa,” says Splan, “so
using actual blood or a real beauty product
may be the only empirically sound method
of answering these questions.”
Elizabeth Lnpematt is a freelance writer and
editor who lives in Portland, OR.
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laurasplan.com
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american craft
dec/jan io
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