Φ
MAGAZINE
THE BODY ISSUE
VOLUME 12
The way we experience the world is so inextricably linked with our
bodies: they're what take us from place to place, they move for us, they
converse for us, they can even love for us... and in turn we clothe them,
we feed them, we try our best to look after them... more recently, we
have taken this to the extreme, and seem to have become #obsessed with
them. It comes as no surprise, that now more than ever, the relationships
people have with their bodies are strained and distorted. In response
to this, our creators have written, painted, and photographed, all in the
name of rekindling that natural connection between mind and body.
We hope you enjoy their corporeal explorations as much as we did.
CHIARA ZUCCHELLI
EDITOR IN CHIEF
The Body Issue | Φ 2
CONTENTS
Girlhood 5 Photography 32
by Ishita Uppadhayay, art by Renée Bertini by Anna Papadopoulou
That Sleep of Death 6 Over It 34
by Sophia Ash by Teresa Satterthwaite
Deposizione Familiare 7 35Revolution Embodied
by Giulio Plodari
by Alexander Orlov-Holmes, art by Teresa Satterthwaite
The Body as a Political Battle 8 39Bodies (or, Tristan Tzara paraphrases Diotima)
by Maria Garcia, photography by Maria Payro
by Carlota Salvador Megias
Grandma Said "There Will Be Days Like This" 10 Water-Lemon 40
by Audre Gruodyte by Francesca Caselli
Deposizione Familiare 12 Good 42
by Giulio Plodari by Sara Bernabe
Dualism, Dysphoria and Liberation 13 Corporeal Memories 44
by Micah Phillips-Gary by Antonia Kattos
觀身不淨 14 Vriksha 45
by Dylan Ngan by Namita Herzl
Photography 16 Interview with Vanessa Brassey 46
by Gustave Muckensturm by the Editors
Two Headed Sharks 18 The Perfect Fit 52
by VCK by Weronika Przysada
Photography 21 54BeingMortal,Mushrooms,&MouldyAppleCake
by Lilly Zhuang
by Eva Plajer
Why Do We Want to Wear Our Bones? Aqueduct 56
by Chiara Zucchelli, photography by Sarah-June Brehm
23by Viola Ugolini, photography by Lilly Zhuang
The Body in Question 24 Friday, 24 June 58
by Dan O'Brien by Maria Payro
Sea, Swallow Me 30
by Yasmin Aydemir
The front and back covers for this issue were created by Wayan Chan.
For enquiries, and more of her work see @ if_my_mind_had_an_attic_ on Instagram.
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The Body Issue | Φ 4 ART by Renée Bertini
Girlhood
by Ishita Uppadhayay
In youth I cut all my hair
to mourn, no twirling length
or dark down by my spine,
No mystery veil
or romance, or blanket,
or lustrous shell, or sheen,
No frame for my face
set my sharp cheeks free
Against the contour now,
Lovers return whetted,
serrated by my girlhood
crystallised, a rock inside me
Not an adornment, a kernel
losing utility, honed and keen,
a pebble in the heath
I crunch beneath my feet
Shorthair now,
My canine mean.
5
THAT SLEEP OF DEATH
by Sophia Ash
Abreath - sharp and isolated - stutters out, lurching the body from inertia. It was the
bleeding light that had wrenched this body from sleep, a bleeding red sun swollen
in its reddening, darkening warmth. The darkness that had held this slumbering form
so possessively in its clutches scuttles back, releasing it from the timelessness of sleep.
The pain of dreams dazes, running with skittish and nervous steps up and down this
body, studding it with dread and cold until it turns to rags of flame along with that
wounded sun.
And how frail is this body, brittle body, morbid and obscured, a body prey to the
sickness of hunger and attachment, the swell of desire, emotions enough to eclipse
all pain, all sense, to rob all reason. With the noble acceptance of a martyr, the body
succumbs to that which haunts it. Just – lets out that breath, and all that had churned,
clenched, and unclenched within it,
unravels into stale air.
The agony of indecision, desire to fall, desire to release, all that had stirred and rubbed
against bones, poisoned that churning blood, struck out, desperate and solitary, just –
Withers and retreats,
slinks away with the stealth of some wild cat. Slinks away with the retreat of the night.
A thin, half-formed corpse remains. Enfeebled, stale; lips cold as snakeskin, face
numbed, eyes bruised, mind now some vacant, static thing where thoughts only flutter
darkly in excess.
Always in excess.
But all it took was one
breath,
slowed now to the painstaking trundle of a dying mule, one
mind whose walls crumbled like rot, whose wakefulness shuddered to a close – o how
blissful that darkness was! Sleep, the deadliest of poisons.
Man is silence: the hollow carcass of empty intervals.
Those who walked before knew more. Those who did not know the agonies of that
corporeal prison, never freer than against the skin of their own solitudes.
But observe, see how the soul’s withered threads are held in these dead man’s hands.
Skinless and forgotten, emotion shudders out, half-dead as forsaken dreams, desires
dispossessed.
The Body Issue | Φ 6
DEPOSIZIONE FAMILIARE by Giulio Plodari 7
The Body
As a Political Battle
by Maria Garcia
What is it about using our bodies as a political meaning that society and the state try to subdue.
weapon that causes such rejection and is so According to Spanish Femen, their methods “are
violently repressed? I cannot stop thinking about the only way to be heard. If instead of protesting
Femen, a women-only feminist direct action with a bare torso and slogans drawn on it, we
group that protests against fascism, LGTBI- were to show ourselves with simple banners, our
phobia and patriarchy. Lara Alcázar, founder and demands would not be taken into account”, as
activist of Spanish Femen explains that “at Femen they wrote on their Instagram account.
we represent that the body is something universal
and that all women's bodies can, if they want, be Actions like Femen's are possible thanks to the
a very powerful instrument of protest that belongs activists behind the organisation that risk their
to us.” security and comfort by putting their bodies to
oppose the status quo. But such activism often
The first Femen group was founded by Anna goes against not only the law but also society.
Hutsol, Alexandra Shevchenko, and Oksana When it challenges the politeness, convictions,
Shachko in Ukraine in 2008 to oppose and prejudices of the majority – or the interests
dictatorship, theocracy and patriarchy. Femen of a powerful few – eccentricity is frowned upon.
activists had to leave the country after the Why is it then that in Spain Franco’s supporters are
government persecution for their activism. Inna seen as harmless and are allowed to protest on the
Shevchenko left the country earlier, following her 20 November to commemorate the anniversary of
protest for the release of the Pussy Riot feminist, the deaths of José Antonio Primo de Rivera and
an activist group. Femen coined their method as Francisco Franco (in 1936 and 1975 respectively)?
"sextremism," where nudity and toplessness take And why is it that Femen activists are violently held
on a political dimension and are used as a tool back when they protest against this very fascism?
for protest, an extreme form of feminist activism,
where they use female sexuality to rebel against When fascists took to the streets of Madrid on the
patriarchy. 20th of November of 2021 to glorify the former
fascist dictator, Francisco Franco, Femen were the
The International branch of Femen was born in only active collective turning up to the protest to
2012 when different groups within the movement denounce fascism. They opposed the authorisation
were created. In 2014, the original founders ceased of a protest that they viewed as a direct attack
to be part of the international movement, and the against the values of democracy and equality.
activists in Ukraine were no longer connected to They still had to pay €2,400 for denouncing the
the other groups. Nowadays, the different groups fascist glorification. The police protected the
of Femen act independently, according to the fascists, while Femen activists were violently
agendas specific to their territories. In Spain, restrained and moved away from the cameras to an
Femen was founded in 2013 by Lara Alcázar and underground car park to prevent the recording of
is still active today under an assembly model. their campaign. The same Government Delegation
It does not have any contact with old and new that is now sanctioning Femen authorised a neo-
Femen affiliates in Ukraine. Nazi march through the Chueca neighbourhood (a
historic LGBTQIA* neighbourhood in Madrid)
Initially, members of the group wore bikinis or on 18th September 2021. Femen activists that day
taped their nipples to protest oppression. In August were insulted, attacked by the demonstrators, and
2009, Oksana Shachko was the first to ditch her had their jackets stolen before the event began.
bra during a demonstration in Kyiv. Women's Moreover, the Madrid Government Delegation
bodies have always been reflected in art and other claimed that Femen activists interrupted the event
media — they are known to almost anyone. But, and that this constituted a serious offence. Even
when this same body is not shown as passive but so, Femen’s protest took place before the event
as an active source against oppression, it becomes began. The Spanish Mordaza Law, based on the
a political weapon and takes on a whole new protection of public safety, is instrumentalised
The Body Issue | Φ 8
by the government to allow certain protests to
take place. While systematically prosecuting and
repressing the action of other activist groups by
imposing high fines on them to curb their activity.
Another notable demonstration of Spanish Femen
was in front of the Ministry of Justice to protest
against the passivity in the face of the femicides
that have been taking place in Spain since early
2021. Six activists in the front row carried a
12-meter-long slogan: “Negar el machismo nos
mata '(''Denying machismo kills us”). There were
15 women carrying 21 lighted candles with the
names of the victims, which they placed in front
of the ministry. When asked whether they were
afraid during the protests, they replied that "The
fear at the beginning of an action is forgotten
when you are filled with rage for what you are
denouncing, the desire to change things gives
you the strength". You could hear the screams of
"Femicide, national emergency! and "Interior and
Justice, machismo accomplices!”.
Although at first, I felt distant from the activist
group because of their ideological standpoint on
sex work, which makes no distinction between
sex work and coerced forced prostitution, and
defends abolition instead of decriminalisation, I
wanted to know more about their activist work
and their organisation. This is why I attended
the Madrid premiere of their documentary called
“Desobedientes'' (Disobedient), directed and
produced directly by members of the group.
Through this documentary, I understood the
importance of their activist work in fighting for
feminist issues. That is why — even if I didn’t
agree with their stance on sex work — I still felt
the need of supporting them. I bought their ZINE
and T-shirts since all the money raised is invested
in paying the fines they received. This is also why,
without romanticizing their activism, their direct
intervention using the body as a political tool is so
powerful, despite the amount of legal persecution
and police brutality they have to face afterwards.
In a world where women's and LGBTQIA* rights
have to be constantly defended and negotiated,
the use of our bodies and our voices become a
powerful tool to demand change. This is why I
stand with the role of the body as a political tool
to fight against sexual violence and reclaim the
public space that also belongs to us.
Our nakedness belongs to us. Our body is sexual
when we want it to be and political when we
decide it to be.
PHOTOGRAPHY by Maria Payro 9
grandma said: There "
will be days like this"
by Audre Gruodyte
Key.
A protector at night.
No thank you.
I am my own protector at night.
Older men told me I would grow into my face
I did
I can't even walk alone at night
Grandma said I could not see a beautiful night even if I tried
My long hair and my breasts are in a way to trick them
I am not one of them
You are afraid of my period more than you are afraid of me.
I wash my legs covered in blood.
Like a ritual.
You are probably afraid
Or you are disgusted
The same way I start not to care.
My long blond hair
Why do you care?
Older men tell me I look like a woman they loved in their youth
They kiss my hand like it’s 19th century Russia
I attempt with all I have not to be seen as a girl only
But what’s wrong? You are
A girl
Only
Can a young woman even be this lonely?
I am not an angry feminist.
I tried.
I am tired.
Not to sleep with the guys I want.
Because I want to be perceived as a great philosopher.
Not a great girlfriend of a philosopher.
The Body Issue | Φ 10
I am tired.
I tried
To prove something in the name of all the women.
You are so complicated
and crazy.
Night.
Are you afraid?
I don’t have the luxury of being stupid.
I can be brave and afraid at the same time.
Where is the key?
Unlock the door.
Key in my fist is a weapon.
Every wall is a door.
And these walls are a prison.
You
love your own prison.
You never wanted to escape.
This prison serves you.
It suits you.
It will never fit me.
Like white.
I always wear black.
The night is black.
It’s not that scary.
I am.
Not the key,
But you and I could be a weapon.
Break white walls,
Paint the face black
Escape the prison.
But we have no time.
It’s night already.
Alone here I stand.
No beauty, grandma.
You asked me.
I tried.
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The Body Issue | Φ 12
Dualism, Dysphoria
and Liberation
by Micah Phillips-Gary
Dualism has its motivation, not as a thesis, such an experience is said to be "bracketed." My
but as an aspiration. I do not, as a matter of real existence thus bracketed, I then recognize my
fact, experience myself on the one hand and my body as constituted in a network of intentions.
body on the other. Either I experience myself as
my body or (as in sleep or extreme flow) I do not From this neutralized standpoint, I discover a
experience myself at all. core of intentions which are necessary for the
constitution of me as my body as well as a number
But this identity is not a happy one. I experience of more or less contingent accretions on the
it as an enchainment. My body is a prison. This periphery. Though it is necessary that I constitute
being imprisoned is not, however, distinct from myself as a body, it is an accident that I do so in
my simply being full stop, since I am nothing this or that way.
other than my body. Being enchained is not a
property that belongs to me accidentally, it is my Some of these accretions are open to critique
essential mode of being. as soon as I recognize them. Others, more
firmly rooted in my personality matrix, require
It is in this sense that traditional rationalism, in modification of the matter underlying my self-
trying to escape from the body, aims ultimately at constitution to be effectively put into question.
an escape from being. For me to be is for me to be Such material alterations are also significant in
a body. To escape from the body is thus to escape that they put into question others' sedimented
from being. judgments as well as my own. This is a dubious
merit, since doubt is a kind of discomfort and it
But the very experience of enchainment that can take the form of aggression. But they are often
motivates the rationalist project of escape also necessary, if this project of transformation is to be
shows that I can never carry out this project. I can successful.
never establish a distance between myself and my
body like that between distinct substances. Thus, though I am my body essentially, I
recognize the aspiration towards dualism as
In all this, the dream of dualism remains firmly capturing an aspect of this essential identity, that
grounded in the experience of enchainment. Even it is an enchainment. While I cannot escape this
if I recognize that this dream is absurd, that the enchainment by taking a position in being apart
same experience which motivates it also shows from my body, I can achieve a critical distance
that its realization is conceptually impossible, from it through bracketing.
I have no means to cancel it out. I can neither
fulfill this dream nor stop having it. The dream In doing so, I discover my body as an intentional
is motivated by my experience of enchainment correlate that is essentially changeable. Though
which is also my experience of existence. enchainment is my mode of being, I can make my
conditions of enchainment less severe, recognizing
However, I can approach this ideal by establishing how different intentions or experiences build upon
a critical rather than a substantial distance from one another to constitute my overall experience
my body. Though the thesis of my bodily existence of enchainment (of being a body). The prospect
cannot be falsified, it can be neutralized. I can of changing or challenging these sedimented
never have any reason to doubt that I am my body experiences, modifying them either intentionally
and I can never experience my own real existence or by acting on what they are experiences of
except as my body. What I can do is attend to this (the physical body as ultimate substratum of my
experience of enchainment without regard to truth bodily self-experience), offers a kind of hope for
or falsity. This kind of non-epistemic experience enabling me to persist in the enchained condition
is said to be "neutralized," while the object of in which my existence consists.
STUDIO (2) by Giulio Plodari 13
觀身不淨
(Bodily Reflections)
by Dylan Ngan
In Buddhist philosophy, there is a meditative reflection upon the physical body known
as Paṭikkūlamanasikāra. It encourages mindful awareness of the nature of the body,
especially its impermanence and subject to decay. Its purpose is manyfold, hoping to
encourage making most of the time we have given our physical limitations, to embrace a
realistic view of the body, and to dispel attachment to our form, operating the notion that to
cling to our fleeting physical characteristics, ultimately leads us to unhelpful expectations,
desires and suffering. It is not to say that we should not appreciate our beauty and health, but
it is to remind ourselves that if we are to define our love of beauty in terms of those features
that do not last, then our love becomes conditional and impermanent. If we come to accept
our bodies for what they are and what they will become, then our bodies are something we
can appreciate without attachment.
To express these sentiments and to capture the general idea, I have summarised the
meditative practice into a Chinese poem, with my English translation.
Observe with patience, the newly deceased. Laying there, neither thought nor knowledge.
Dark purple, virility decayed and collapsed, the chill penetrating bones.
Consider that attachment to physical beauty, the tombs of the dissolute and elegant.
Heart of lust dampens, this is it, is there anything that lasts?
Maggots burrow, making a hive-like room.
As the ropes that tie branches, there is no enjoyment in the scattering.
Between the seemingly perfect couple, there is but an affair.
Tendons rotten, soul abandoned, cast aside worn out affections with nowhere to return to.
Scorched until white, abused this wasting body, burdened with empty sorrow.
The Body Issue | Φ 14
靜觀初死，直仰臥，知見全無。
黑紫騰，勢腐潰下，寒氣徹骨。
細想戀色貌如花，風流俊雅香潔墓。
淫心淡，不外盡如此，有常乎？
遍鑽蟲，如窠旅。
繩束薪，散非娛。
鸞儔鳳侶間，偷香竊玉。
筋爛魂棄縱橫處，濺灑朽情無歸去。
焦燒茫，殘此易邁生，空堪鬱。
15
The Body Issue | Φ 16
PHOTOGRAPHY by Gustave Muckensturm 17
Two headed sharks are
sighted more and more
and no-one knows why
by VCK
Alaska, 5:30AM
The waves carve a single phrase – I will not I lie; with but a brief radioactive sheen reflecting
immanentize the eschaton – again and again from the Southeast. Portland or Seattle still glows
against the cliffs,like a schoolboy. We are supposed from the fallout; nobody cared enough to find out
to be kind to sea creatures these days, our dead- which was hit worst. The survivors all looked the
eyed ancestors whisper along the shore: don’t let same by the time they made it up here.
the little ones die. Our latest catch has only two
heads; it is barely the size of my palm. “Please,” I say, “Just for the weekend. Then I’ll
be quiet, and you can bury me, and you can fish
“I’ll start voting when they grow another five,” forever.”
grunts uncle Fred, lighting his cigar as he tosses
the beast back. He grows his own tobacco along He seems hurt – as if the idea of one less mouth
the edge of the Anchorage riviera, in the dead fields to feed is somehow painful to him. Freddy is
where wheat crops once grew. Just beyond lies the wonderfully meticulous, measuring every catch
great white line that separates Alaska from the rest as if it was gold sieved from a mountain river. His
of the world; a 600-mile long arc of mountains people have been here a long time – before the
that stopped the worst of the fallout from reaching bombs, before the men that crossed the Atlantic.
the sleepy little town of McCarthy, population He’s holding another young beast in his large,
one hundred and twelve – twelve and a half, if leather-brown hands — eight fins, two shiny rows
you count whatever’s been growing under the old of minuscule teeth, three dead eyes. He watches it
fleece on Tim Crenshaw’s back. gloomily, a cloud of cigar smoke briefly enveloping
the creature. A single tentacle waves at me through
I am lying on shellsand, my palms raised towards the smoke. “They’ll shoot you before you can even
the deep grey sky. I have been dying for days. I am cross into Yukon territory,” he grunts, as he tosses
bleeding from my mouth and I can feel the sickly the thing into a pail. “We’ll camp out here until you
warmth of deathblood along my cheek. “Freddy,” I pass. Then I’ll drive back to the others. There’s
gasp, “I wanna go to Canada.” always convoys headin’ East.”
He glances down. “Better to die out here, boy,” I lift my head from the pebbles. It hurts; my skin
he mutters as he hooks another grisly piece of oil- is scaled and tight and has started falling off in
slick meat to his gear. “You can see the sky as it is.” clumps. Freddy goes on these rants sometimes,
He’s not wrong. It’s only a little green from where about God, or the government, or the Russians…
The Body Issue | Φ 18
He’s muttering to himself now, untangling a large seawater; one of its catarac-white eyes drooping
piece of driftwood from one of his nets. I drag my and blinking independently of the other. It has too
moulting body to its feet and limp slowly down the many dorsal fins and there’s an unpleasant bulge
long silver stretch of beach. The tendon around my protruding from the bottom of its scaly stomach.
left ankle has disintegrated and I can feel the bone “Freddy!” I shout hoarsely. I hear his heavy boots
click with every step I take. The sun has begun to crunch across the sand. “Look what I’ve found!”
rise but at this time of year it makes little difference Freddy stands behind me and grunts. The shark
– the world stays golden-grey in the dawnlight. I wiggles slightly. “T’sa pacific sleeper.” he says.
won’t see another summer. “Pregnant, by the look of it.”
It all started with a single rash beneath my armpit. “Pregnant?” I ask, crouching down. Freddy lights
Freddy had taken one look and trundled me into the another fragrant cigar and replies, “Only reason
back of his old Cherokee with his fishing equipment any of these big fish come up to the shallows
and the last few syringes of morphine. He usually anymore – to give birth. Things ain’t pretty up here
doesn’t let the kids come with him when he drives but they’re worse down there,” his huge, gentle
out West to his plantations, but he said it would be hand swings through the cool air as he gestures
nicer for me to die by the ocean. “Better than being towards the murky ocean, “Way some of these fish
found by the Canucks,” he said. He was right, of have gone… smelling blood from the other side
course; the Canadians didn’t make it to McCarthy of the Pacific, and they’ve got the teeth to back
often, but when they did, they were ruthless. They it up.” He glances nervously at me. He knows he
shot Tanya Hayworth in the spine because they has nothing to worry about; I’m the type to die as
thought she was growing a sixth finger on her right soon as the sickness settles. Some of the kids back
hand. Turned out to be the scar from a boil she had in McCarthy weren’t so lucky – Lucy Baybrow’s
removed when she was a child. She was fourteen. skin turned to bone when she went rabid, and
Emerick Paddock’s molars grew right through his
I reach a shallow pool at the foot of the cliffs. I jaw before his mind snapped, leaving Freddy with
can feel long strips of necrotic flesh peeling away a nasty scar on his leg. He’s staring at the shark
from my bones beneath the bandages on my legs. again. “Suppose comin’ out this far gives the kids a
My nerve endings, thankfully, rotted away by the fighting chance.”
time we made it to Anchorage. I rest for a moment,
watching the soft silver-grey of the waves roll onto I look down at the animal. I’m having difficulty
the gunmetal sand. It’s peaceful out here and I making eye contact with it, partly because her
wonder briefly why Freddy doesn’t just build a hut eyes move in different directions. Eventually
along the cliffside and stay there forever. I can feel one beady pupil fixes on me and I suddenly fight
blood trickling from my ears, dampening the fur the urge to laugh. “You're gonna be a mama?” I
collar of my jacket. A splash wakes me from my whisper, grinning. She wiggles her tail again and I
reverie and I peer down into the pool. catch a flash of her teeth, rows and rows of jagged
razors glinting through the shallow water. It looks
A shark looks up at me reproachfully. It too is briefly as if she's smiling excitedly up at me. She’s
missing great chucks of skin, the right side of its beautiful, I realise, despite everything.
body covered in black rotting boils. Its tail-fin
splits into eight jagged wedges of flesh and I am Suddenly, a stream of blood bursts from beneath
reminded, rather cruelly, of a propeller at the back her belly. “Freddy!” I gasp again and we watch as a
of a boat. It glares dimly up at me through the murky slurry of putrid green and yellow clouds fill the pool.
19
The shark looks panicked as she thrashes about and
sends streams of rancid water through the air. My
ankle collapses as I slip on the rocky edge of the
pool and fall, knees first, with a sickening crunch
into the seawater. The shock of the freezing water
and my shattered kneecaps sends my body into a
frigid stupor and I sit stupidly in the shallows while
the shebeast continues to beat her body against the
rocks. Her rotting flanks knock into my useless
legs and I can see the sinewy cartilage of her
deformed dorsal fins up close, rippling repulsively
in the frothy white foam. I try to calm her but my
fingers are too frozen, her skin too slippery. “Leave
her, boy,” growls Freddy’s voice from somewhere
far away.
She is suddenly still and there is another figure in
the sand, small and slight. Blood floats up around
my feet and hands in bright scarlet swirls. I reach
out automatically and lift a small, strong figure from
the water as it squirms between my boots. It feels
smooth and slimy and I dip it back into the salty
ripples to wash away the blood and muck from its
four shiny black eyes. “Look, mama,” I whisper as
I offer up the tiny two-headed creature. Her bloated
body is twitching in the grey dawnlight, but she
manages to move one of her dopey pupils onto the
youngling in my lap. She’s still bleeding profusely.
The pup's lithe figure rests supinely between my
hands, its thick white tail waving lazily in the pink
water and two soft, toothless maws gape open and
shut. One of the heads jerks needily nips at its
mother, eyes flashing wildly in the dim white light
of the dawn. The great shark wriggles weakly and
rests her head on my knee while I stroke her jagged
spine with my thumb and for a moment it is only us
three in the world.
“I’m tired, Freddy,” I whisper suddenly. “Real
tired.” The smell of blood and salt and cigar
smoke fills my chapped nostrils. There’s more
blood dripping from my ears and evil, black swirls
are clouding my vision. I’m so cold I can barely
breathe. Fresh, frozen flesh from my fingers begins
to float amongst the viscous chunks of shark
placenta in the water around me; the sight makes
me shudder. I can feel Freddy’s great body shift as
he kneels and scoops the pup into his huge hands.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says quietly, “I’ll come
back for your jacket in a little bit. I’ll give it a wash
when you’re done, and give it to Frances. She’ll fit
it just fine.”
He gives my shoulder one final squeeze and I feel
a bone break beneath the bloodsoaked suede. The
shark beats her propeller tail against the white-grey
rocks of the Alaskan shoreline, one doleful eye on
me and the other on Freddy’s retreating figure. I
hear the clanging of a pail in the distance. Together
we listen to the sound of the waves crashing against
the cliffs, and together we finally rest.
The Body Issue | Φ 20
21 PHOTOGRAPHY by Lilly Zhuang
The Body Issue | Φ 22
why do we want to
wear our bones?
by Viola Ugolini
my mum
never picked at the outlines of her body like leftover micro-waved-and-portioned food
or, at least, she never showed me. she scolded me
for skipping meals like a child skips ropes
(the more you do it the easier it gets!)
and never told me I ought to be smaller, lighter.
and yet.
I watch
my friends shrink like melting ice in the hand of some slick hot-blooded man
and I find their missing water
leaking from the corner of my eye. their cramps in my own belly.
their same crooked convictions nailed to the worn down, scratched-up walls
of my skull.
truth is
if we take up less space we move more smoothly through the world
we feel – the air softer around us
doors easier to slip through our own voices kinder to themselves
our self-loathing shelved in a tin box under our borrowed bed –
the bed shared with someone we think likes us more now there’s less
of us.
we wear
our bones and let our veins wear thin, contingent streams converging into bigger bodies
of muddied dark water. thus, he has
a bigger body and the upper hand. we are ashamed when we admit:
I fear there is no ocean within me
just a dried-up riverbed you could walk all over
- oh wait! you already have
while I was busy word-vomiting all of this
PHOTOGRAPHY by Lilly Zhuang 23
The Body
in question
by Dan O'Brien
A series of carvings of Jonathan Miller’s The Body in Question. Narrative
theorists of the self argue that our identity is determined by the stories we tell
about ourselves, whether they’re focused on our bodies, our relationships or
our achievements. The project is ongoing and carving will reveal more stories
hidden within The Body in Question, as there are identities hidden within us.
The Body Issue | Φ 24
25
The Body Issue | Φ 26
27
The Body Issue | Φ 28
Explore more of Dan O'Brien's work at
Lowwintersun.org
29
sea, swallow me
by Yasmin Aydemir
mom
the milk has gone bad
it’s chunky and rank
I’m rotting from the inside out
my hair’s falling out
my organs are shutting down
I’ve held on as long as I could
and now I find myself
on the edge of a cliff
looking down into the hole
in the earth
void
emptiness
about to jump into my own heart
I wonder if it’s hardened or if the landing will be soft
pillows
I miss my bed
warm
safe
hopeful
home
safe to cry
safe to dream
safe to laugh
safe to scream
14 again
yet with my innocence
intact
undamaged
moments before the vase has fallen
off the counter
stable
secure
lovely
whole
The Body Issue | Φ 30
a million shards everywhere
blood splatter
tears
oh how I miss my bed
mom
I miss your womb
I miss the time
without claustrophobia
when being shut in was warm
safe
home
hopeful
I miss the soothing expectant sound of your voice
the second you crowned you were dethroned
even though you were free
and I was jailed
there’s a hole in my chest
when I put it up to my ear
I hear the waves
sea, swallow me
and take me home
to the deep blue sea
make me one of the kelp
or plankton
indiscriminate
marvelously meaningless
magnificently minute
I am home in the coming
and going of the tides
I kiss the dunes every few hours
as I retreat
I leave behind remnants
of heaviness
death and life
sea, swallow me
don’t spit me out
the sand burns
and your womb is refreshingly home
31
The Body Issue | Φ 32
33 PHOTOGRAPHY by Anna Papadopoulou
The Body Issue | Φ 34 OVER IT by Teresa Satterthwaite
Revolution Embodied
Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future and Mer-
leau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception
by Alexander Orlov-Holmes
In David Cronenberg’s Crimes of the Future, symptomatic of something hidden within, or
the body is a boundless site. Artistic creation, publicly drags up the body’s viscera. Saul Tensor
political struggle, and sensual pleasure all fight for is a master of his craft. His art generates meaning
control within it. Performance artist Saul Tensor by overcoming and subduing the body. Afflicted
is exhausted. His organs sprout up newly evolved with ‘Accelerated Evolution Syndrome’, he must
at an accelerated pace and are removed in staged constantly undergo surgery to extract tumorous
performances. He accepts interventions into his growths. Partnered with former surgeon Caprice,
body with growing indifference, and his art is a Saul publicises and aestheticizes this surgery.
ceaseless process that seems ever closer to failure. His bodily autonomy is forcefully affirmed. The
Saul’s life is dull and painful. To his audience, his unveiled organs are beautiful. Saul Tensor’s art
work is the height of artistic achievement. But any dramatizes a struggle for the body’s meaning. Its
meaning they find within is their own. To Saul, perceived natural functioning is corrupted by the
his art is a struggle to stay alive, against nature generation of ‘useless’, and hence anomalous,
and himself. organs. The body and its organs can only be
beautiful when objectified when they are made to
It is hard not to see Cronenberg’s listlessness, comply with Saul’s artistic mastery.
as a filmmaker who has left his mark on the
body more than any other. Artists live by their Phenomenology’s quest for revitalisation is
fixations. Moving on from an exhausted fixation analogous to Saul Tensor’s. Merleau-Ponty
is acquiescence. Rediscovery is the only option. seeks a primordial ontological state from which
Cronenberg, through Saul Tensor, renews the further philosophy can be performed. Saul’s
body’s significance and its generative capacity for exhaustion culminates in the discovery of his
art. concealed potential. His art has always been the
repression of this potential, hidden in his body.
A similar renewal is attempted in the The aestheticized struggle against the body
phenomenology of Maurice Merleau-Ponty. was a denial of the self. Throughout Crimes of
He recentres the body as the core of being. He the Future two groups vie for Saul’s support.
wishes to overcome the impasses of philosophy’s The bureaucracy, represented by the National
history, specifically that which follows Descartes. Organ Registry, seeks to catalogue and tattoo
Philosophy, as a contemplative pursuit, has mankind’s ‘neo-organs.’ They fear that these
detached itself from its essential basis in the organs “might establish themselves genetically,
body and experience. Without this basis, its work and then be passed down from parents to children,
is unresolvable. His solution is to return to our who would then no longer be, strictly speaking,
original ontological position. The rediscovery of human.” Labouring upon a normative standard
the body is a purification of philosophical practice of humanity, the bureaucracy seeks to maintain
that sweeps away beleaguered thoughts. Merleau- the status quo by the repression of anomalous
Ponty advocates for a renewal of philosophy’s evolutions. Opposed to the government are the
fixations – a new position from which vital work plastic-eaters, a cult-like faction who believe that
can be performed. mankind’s evolution is striving towards a certain
goal – the ability to subsist on plastic. They
In the new body of the future, everything is embrace the body’s evolution in contravention of
permitted. Disease and pain have been excised. the government’s attempts to keep humanity fixed.
All that’s left are the pleasures of the flesh. Art Saul has always aimed to keep his body stable, to
has become a facsimile of surgery, an act in remove perceived intrusions upon his natural way
which the body is transformed and has its inborn of being. In a moment of both political rebellion
meaning reaffirmed. The artist makes the skin and religious bliss, Saul eats plastic. He actualises
35
his body’s repressed potential. Free from the Unlike Saul, who is alienated from his body and
normative standards imposed upon it, the body unaware of its abilities, Brecken unapologetically
once again becomes a source of aesthetic joy. follows his unnatural hunger. His mother, Djuna,
Saul’s art is a denial of the body and experience. smothers Brecken, viewing
Merleau-Ponty determined that our tendency to him as an inhuman monster.
obfuscate the body and its natural being was itself The corpse is the site of a vital
a product of our embodiment. Our greatest and political struggle. Dotrice,
most unjustified prejudice, one that Saul shares, Brecken’s father, is a leader of
is to objectify the body. But objects are the result the plastic-eaters. If an autopsy
of experience, static manipulable things that can can be performed on the boy he
be seen or imagined from any angle, persistent would become a martyr for the
through space and time. The body is not an end cause, evidence that humans
result, but our starting point. It is our capacity to really can evolve to eat plastic
be in the world. Objects are only ever formed as an naturally. The government seeks
interaction between our body and this world. The to disrupt the autopsy by any
body is a motion outward with generative force. means necessary. Brecken’s
Thinking of the body as an object rather than a murder is a forceful repression
capacity causes us to lose sight of his capacities, of his body’s unique and
of this inborn ability. We see it significant way of being in the world. In death,
as another thing to be mastered, the boy had become an object. Without any
that can operate by static rules ability to determine his own body’s meaning,
if only they are upheld. It is it is turned into the static plaything of political
only because of our ability to factions. Both seek to shape his nature as an
form objects that we mistakenly object and hence justify their own ideology. The
regard the object as the truest government wants to suppress the revolution that
form of being. It is only natural the liberated body would represent. The plastic-
that in attempting to objectify the eaters are reactionary in their own way. They,
world, we would eventually turn too, see Brecken as an object, and the political
the same gaze onto ourselves significance they ascribe to his body is their own,
and obscure our own nature. not one that got the chance to develop organically
The path forward is to liberate from the boy’s own potential.
the body from objectivity. Philosophy can
only move forward by a revolution in which Saul’s personal revolution can be understood
the body’s capacities are placed at its core. alongside the repression of Brecken’s potential.
Not only do the two share the capacity to eat
Saul encounters his body as something external plastic, but they are also both objectified in art
to him, operating by strange rules. He surgically and stunted in their development via the prejudice
objectifies his body by transforming each neo- of objectivity. Further, they both exist in the
organ into a spectacle. It is not only Saul that world in a state of suspended childhood. Sara
undergoes this process. Brecken is a child who Ahmed in Queer Phenomenology considers the
shares with Saul the capacity to digest plastic. desk as an orienting structure for the philosopher.
The bodily act of sitting at the writing desk itself
The Body Issue | Φ 36
shapes the form of philosophical inquiry. Whether Brecken’s autopsy reveals is that the untouched
this surface is truly in front of me, whether I have body has already been intervened on. Timlin, an
a causal connection to the pen I raise – these agent of the National Organ Registry, got there
questions are always oriented by the body’s first. Brecken’s organs were marked and stamped
relation to the objects it uses. We may similarly ahead of time to imply that they were artificial
examine Saul Tensor’s orientation in relation to insertions. The act of autopsy does not preserve
the objects that dominate his life. He sleeps in the body’s meaning. The process of objectification
a mechanical crib, to which his connection is can never be neutral. There was no ‘pure’ meaning
essentially umbilical – he is fed hormones and to Brecken’s body that the political had not already
kept in a state of suspension that enables rest. tampered with. Saul shares this problem. In trying
He eats in a highchair that locks and moves his to maintain the natural state of his body, he was
body, performing his chewing and digestion for only ever the tool of an ideology that imposed
him. Saul’s orientation is that of a man suspended that state upon him. Then, can we ever find in the
in childhood. His bodily functions are performed body a meaning that we are sure belongs to it?
for him by objects that ‘fill in’ for his missing The body is always intervened on beforehand by a
capacities. Saul’s way of life and his condition of prior objectification. Its meaning, and its potential,
constant evolution are both foetal. He is suspended have always been externally determined.
in a state of pure potential constantly concretised
by neo-organs, which grow towards an unknown This poses a problem for a bodily phenomenology.
goal. These organs are trimmed in acts of The body should be the content of a real
aesthetic creation. Saul remains within the womb revolution. It should upend existing philosophy
developing towards a state that he never reaches. and establish itself as a new principle, one that
His performance art, the surgical intervention into can never run dry. But the body’s pure potential
his body’s development, severs him from any prior to intervention can never be accessed. If the
bodily maturity. He hobbles around swaddled in body is an ontological unity informing all further
black, his interior always holding an undetermined divisions, it is perpetually primordial. It is always
function. While the bureaucracy and his audience an original layer that we imagine from afar. There
see these growths as beautiful acts of creation, he is no instance in which we authentically touch
sees them as pointless intrusions into his body’s the body’s ‘real’ meaning. By the time we reach
natural functioning. To him, they are tumours to be the autopsy, the body’s potential has already
excised, and pubescent abnormalities to be shaved been forcefully completed. It has been given its
and trimmed to preserve a state of childhood. Saul static end, and hence can no longer provide us
objectifies his body in that he seeks to keep it with even a glimmer of the potential contained
fixed and comprehensible by inherited rules. To in that original instant. When we seek to access
do so, he can only ever stunt his development. the body as a texture of pure potential, as the
Saul is wedded to a tradition that he can’t help but place where we find our ‘natural’ way of being,
grow beyond, no matter how strong his efforts at we only ever act upon it from the present. We
repression are. force meaning upon the body even when we seek
to recapture its original beauty.
It is no surprise that Saul’s corollary is Brecken, the Saul’s bliss at eating the plastic
child with ‘inhuman potential’ who is smothered bar does not resolve this
by his mother before ever truly developing. What contradiction. The black and
white scene crucially references
Carl Dreyer’s 1928 film The
Passion of Joan of Arc. Joan
of Arc is filmed in closeups
throughout her trial as she refuses
to recant her divine calling. Saul’s
moment of religious devotion
to his body might seem a mere
imitation. The sudden switch to
black and white informs us that we are viewing
the event through Caprice’s camera as she films
Saul. The scene’s mystical quality has a tinge of
37
inauthenticity. We may just be witnessing another matter can develop alongside one another. For the
performance before the camera, a discovery by Saul phenomenologist, the body is never pure. It is our
of a new way to do the same old thing - he is not way of being in the world. It is always infringed upon
a saint, he is a performance artist. His bliss is as and determined by the contents of the world. The
much an object to be extracted and shared as his neo- body is not an ideal, it is an actual capacity that links
organs were. Saul’s art was never his own creation, us with reality. Then, how can we reliably achieve a
it was always motivated by the disruptive influence phenomenological revolution? We intend to reorient
of ideology upon his self-conception. Similarly, the philosophy. To liberate the body and restore it to its
discovery of his body’s natural meaning is only the power. We want to unclog our thoughts and wash
influence of a new ideology. away all that was merely received. But there is no
The problem for phenomenology is to reconcile the pure, undiluted body free from
concept of an accessible basis for philosophy with the our objectification of it. Each
interference this basis necessarily endures whenever experience of the body is mediated
we invoke it. Saul rediscovered the body, finding a and ultimately inauthentic.
new harmony to displace the old discord. But this Despite recognising through
harmony was itself a rebellion, coloured just as much phenomenology that the body is at
by ideological disputes and the lust for new aesthetic the base of experience, we still feel
objects as the previous one. If Saul suspended himself ourselves squinting at it from afar,
in childhood by denying his body’s potential, there’s putting together a vague picture of
no reason to believe his new stage isn’t also one he it that conveniently accommodates
should eventually grow out of. By abandoning the the tasks we wish it to perform. If
highchair, Saul reveals and actualises his body’s we repressively rely on what seems
potential. But, in his performances, he actualised his like our natural capacities, we
body’s potential too. To be willing to undergo surgery, perform a regression analogous to
to stubbornly commit to struggle with the body for that of Saul’s. We presuppose the body as it should be,
the sake of art and life, are as much statements of and tyrannically exercise our power over it to force
one’s natural capacity as embracing harmony. His conformity with nature. Neither Saul’s highchair
audience asserted the beauty of his art, and if they are nor the plastic bar is natural. Neither choice could
fickle, they will assert the beauty of his new turn as ever be, the body constitutes what is natural just as it
well. The struggle between embracing and rejecting constitutes its objects. If phenomenology is to avoid
the body is misidentified – embracing what feels merely positing a return to an ideal childhood of
‘natural’ is first and foremost ideological. There is unified experience, it must cast away any normative
no unpolitical embrace. This is no purely ontological pretences to judge and thereby shape the body. It
body. Then, to regard the body as our foremost must be lived, as opposed to decided from afar.
constitutive principle only adds another chain in an
ongoing circle. The body once rediscovered can be Artistic creation, Saul discovers, is a way in which
usurped and subordinated just as easily. When the the body can be lived. Art need not solely create
body becomes boring there will be a new revolution. aesthetic objects and force them into conformity.
It can organically follow the excitement of the
For Saul as an artist, and Cronenberg as a director, new. The increasing dullness of Saul’s art, despite
this instability is not a problem. The body perpetually its positive reception, is reason enough to seek
endures revolutions, as any vital entity does. It need something new that abolishes the old. The plastic-
not stay static; it can always be re-evaluated. Then, eaters discover a thrill within the body that the
it never becomes dull. The artist and their subject mundanity of life would otherwise keep suppressed.
The body’s capacities are not developed by acts of
self-flagellation, nor by an obsession with the present
way of things. The body can incorporate the world
into it. It is our capacity to be in the world and to
make the world part of us. Then, the body always
has a future. Static ways of life that seek to tie us into
ever-repeating patterns can never last forever. Saul’s
embrace of his body, and the bliss he experiences in
truly inhabiting it, are not infallible. They are feelings
that in time will be exhausted as well. Yet, this does
not invalidate the body’s power as an ontological
principle. Instead, it captures the essential truth that
both art and philosophy are to be lived and will
always grow beyond their present means.
The Body Issue | Φ 38
bodies (or, Tristan Tzara
paraphrases Diotima)
by Carlota Salvador Megias
The Body Issue | Φ 40
Water-Lemon
by Francesca Caselli
I have a long tongue,
a prong – I stab myself with it.
You take it out,
put three fingers in my mouth.
Your tips taste
like the icing on a lemon drizzle cake.
Oh how I feel when I am you.
Now tell me what to do, what to say
I don’t know better anyways.
I have a long tongue,
You cut it out.
A cry for help is a scream,
not a whisper –
we’re both safe in sound.
41
Good
by Sara Bernabè
Matt is seven on the door to the garden. He breathes in fully and stretches out his sides.
Aunt Paulie is chiding him about running Straightens his spine. Averts his eyes. Puts on a
inside with mud on his shoes, all over his shins, shirt, a jumper. Debates changing it for a baggier
his clothes. It isn’t proper, he should know better. one. Curls his shoulders in again and makes his
Charlie the family dog left a piece of moss next to way downstairs. Louise is moving to the room
his uncle’s rain boots, little drops of rainwater all next to his, passes by quickly. Rounds back, pops
the way to the carpet, a streak of mud on the arm of her head into the kitchen. All good? Matt nods,
the sofa. He should know better too. Aunt Paulie waves to Joe where he stopped with one of her
looks over, notices. Her voice gets shrill. George suitcases. We’re going for dinner later if you want
thunders downstairs, chases Charlie off the couch. to join. Joe has strong eyebrows. They somehow
He’s shouting too. No peaceful weekends in this always droop, frowning down towards his nose.
house. And we were only supposed to care for The line between them gets a little deeper. He’s
Clara’s kid once a month. How is she always here, handsome in his scowling. They look polar
anyway? Matt is still not inside. The cold is starting opposites behind the door frame. Matt changes
to creep into the living room. His shoulders are grip on the laundry basket. The plastic makes a
pinched. Something aches in his chest. His breath tinny squeaky noise. Louise has leaned halfway
is not quite his own. Aunt Paulie’s face is in front through the door. I’m good, thank you. Have fun
of his face now she tells him to breathe, with her, though.
everything is fine, she did not mean to raise her
voice. Your uncle is not mad at you either. Breathe It was meant to be four of them in the flat. Four
with me. Like that. Amazing. Good girl. is really like the maximum number of people I
could share the kitchen with. Matt did not see
Matt is eighteen on the door to his uni halls. He’s anyone come in, but it sounds like Sophia. Her
holding it open. His flatmate is lugging what voice is rougher in the mornings. She’s talking
seems to be all her life up the stairs. Thanks for to a girl she brought home last night, introducing
holding the door, very gentlemanly of you. The her to Matt and Louise. Her name passes unheard
lift is broken and it’s pouring outside. Her name through the room. Matt is too focused on giving
is Louise, half of her boxes are still downstairs. Louise time to look less lost. He waves. Joe left
Would he mind helping out? He looks like he goes last night so it’s three of them now, he supposes.
to the gym. He does. It’s been a few months now. Matt feels the weight of his eye bags. His whole
Maybe it was all to help with this move. New head feels heavy. Louise’s head is on his shoulder,
semester, new me, thought I’d get a head start. lighter by comparison though neither of them
Her laugh is dainty like her arms. She’s pretty but slept. The girl seems nice. Sophie whispers
her hands, black nail polish chipped on them, are something else to her that makes her laugh. So
bigger than Matt’s. He wonders if the cardboard many queer girls in this flat, I love it, how long
feels the same on her palms, cold, smooth, a little have you been together? Matt’s voice gets high
mushy. Their fingers are warm again when they when he’s nervous. He squeaks, coughs. Louise
pass mugs and plates to each other, fill up the cuts in. They’re not. His side feels colder where
cupboards. Thanks for earlier. You’re stronger she’s moved away. He curls his hands around
than my boyfriend. He works to keep his exhale the mug he got last Christmas. Stares into it. He
even, feels the tape catch under his arm when he should have taken out the tea bag earlier. Louise
passes her the next mug. Is that a good or a bad pries one of his hands away, holds it. She feels
thing? tense, her arm a rigid line against his. She said
something but he didn’t catch it. I’m sorry, Matt.
Matt is twenty-one when he picks his new room. He looks up. The girl has moved further into the
There is only one mirror. To see himself he has room and is bending slightly down to make eye
to lean back on the door. He has a bruise on his contact with him. He averts his eyes again. It’s
hip. The lines of his new tattoo almost reach it. all good.
The red around the ink is not as dark as the red
line on his ribs. He should really figure out how to It’s too many people queuing for the bathroom,
do laundry, only one of the good sports bras left. bottlenecking all the way down the corridor. Matt
The Body Issue | Φ 42
bumps into someone. Have you seen Louise? the IV when she sits on his bed. They had to put
No one’s eyes look clear enough, but somebody another one in this morning when they decided
points a finger to his room. The desk lamp is on. to monitor him for longer. How do you feel? His
She’s sitting on the chair. Turns around to face him whole chest is sore and tight, his back could really
and says nothing as she makes her way over. She do with some cracking after laying down for so
half trips and ends up crashing into him. He can long. His voice still comes out groggy, but it
see himself in the mirror from where his back hit sounds deeper than it normally does and rumbles
the door. His stubble seems less patchy when he’s comfortingly from behind his ribs. He can already
smiling. Your laugh is deeper than when we first feel the anticipation at the thought of lifting his
met. Her voice is slurred from where she’s kissing arms fully when his scars won’t pull anymore. He
his neck. There’s literally a party in our house. It’s feels in his body, scratchy sheets on his left arm,
my birthday though. Don’t good girls deserve a Louise’s big hands around his right, no weight on
present? Her top hangs low where it’s bunched his chest. Good, he says. Just good.
up against his binder. He breathes in once, makes
eye contact with himself. She still laughs so high
pitched when he picks her up. Who said you were
a good girl?
The entrance to the patio peels back in big glass
doors. You can see the whole garden from the
kitchen. Matt picks up the last plate on the counter,
makes his way outside. Louise and her mum are
somewhere in the house. Her dad is setting up the
grill. The plate gets set with the others. I swear
we would only eat vegetables if Louise had her
way. The smell of smoke hits quicker than Matt
expected. He folds the doors ajar. The stereo is
playing from one of the rooms upstairs but the
noise of the grill almost covers it. It’s been a while
since Louise brought a boy home. Matt can feel
his spine straighten, bumps into the other man’s
shoulder standing taller. Are you being good to
her? His laugh is hiccupping like Louise's. He
bumps his shoulder back into Matt. Don’t look so
tense. She’s happy, I’m happy, we’re all good.
Louise stands on the door to his hospital room. A
nurse walks by, stops to check in on her. I’m fine,
just waiting for my boyfriend to wake up. She
looks taller backlit from the corridor. Might be
more beautiful. I think they gave you the premium
drugs. He was not even sure he’d complimented
her out loud. Her hands are careful not to jostle
43
Corporeal Memories
by Antonia Kattos
This body of mine
Aches
It is sore everywhere
taking impact upon impact
Of this world
Bending
Never breaking
Until it does.
And when it does break
It picks up its own pieces and glues them back together
And though it will never be the same as before
It keeps getting even more beautiful
With every invisible scar
And wrinkle
And discoloration.
Every corporeal memory of
Pain
And suffering
And fleeting pleasure.
It inhabits comfort from time to time
Too short a while
Dare I say
Comfort eludes it
It is reduced to muscle memory
A state I instinctively know how to ease into
But disappears as soon as I do.
This body
This body remembers
As Kavafis said,
It remembers everything,
And does the thinking for me instead.
The Body Issue | Φ 44 VRIKSHA by Namita Herz
This work was painted with menstrual bloodl
45
The Body Issue | Φ 46
A BRUSH WITH
PHILOSOPHY
AN INTERVIEW WITH VANESSA BRASSEY
47
Dr Vanessa Brassey is a painter, academic and lecturer in Philos-
ophy at King’s College London. Since 2020, she has co-directed the
Centre for Philosophy and Art, where she created A Brush With Phi-
losophy, among many other public engagement projects. A Brush with
Philosophy invites participants to talk through a philosophical prob-
lem with an expert whilst they are drawn by a resident artist. The
idea is to combine the experience of philosophers, artists, and regular folks
together to bring something entirely new to life. For this issue, we caught up
with Vanessa to talk about her experience bringing this project from screens
to seats, eureka moments, and the power of a great chat.
What made you want to start A Brush with are richer, the body language is richer, the
Philosophy? opportunities for the expert, artist, and sitter are
better. Everyone loved it. It was super fun.
I’ve always painted as a hobby. Doodling in
school lessons, sketching when traveling, or Have there been any surprising moments from A
painting the joys of Hampstead Heath. Doing Brush with Philosophy?
portraits of the team who helped me survive
and thrive at philosophy seemed like a natural For sure. Firstly, I ended up jacking-in the
extension of that. For one thing, it helped philosophy for a year and taking a portraiture
me slow down and listen in my supervision degree. That was kind of surprising (and
sessions as I find it calming. I took breaks from huge huge huge fun). Then there are the
writing-up to finish up the portraits as it acted golden moments of participation. Experts
like a thought ‘palette-cleanser’ - speeding find a refreshed connection with the power of
up the critical distance required to go back in, philosophy by seeing the lights go on in the
edit, refine, and precisify bits of the work. I sitter’s mind. Then being asked something
was really pleased that the Arts & Humanities totally left field. So who ends up enlightening
team saw the potential to sponsor a gamified who is quite revelatory. Plus several artists have
version of this during lockdown. The details of been inspired by the conversations to read some
the game were worked out with Giulia Corti, philosophy or get in touch to follow up on open
a super talented PhD student who is a natural questions. It’s a virtuous circle of curiosity.
teacher. We decided to formulate 5 philosophy
101 puzzles as simple intuition pumps. Anyone, Has the project evolved over time?
from anywhere, could sign up by selecting a How so?
puzzle and agreeing to be on zoom at a certain
time and date. We’d match them to a world Yes. It started as a way to offer temporary relief
expert on that puzzle and they would get 15 to the isolation and boredom of the lockdown.
minutes ‘free philo-therapy’ unpacking the Now it is more about injecting moments of ‘the
puzzle with a guide, while either I, or Alice examined life’ into the day to day rush of the
Wright (another talented philosophy postgrad) lived one. We tried out a Celebrity Brush at
sketched them. In the end we completed roughly Bush House with two exceptional sitters. One
30 sessions. was Lloyd Owen, currently starring as Elendil
in the Rings of Power on Amazon Prime, but
What have the differences been between hosting an actor with an impressive theatrical pedigree
it online versus in person? who aptly and elegantly unpacked ‘Am I awake
or dreaming?’ with Dr Adrian Alsmith. The
It kind of amped up the stakes on all fronts subtleties in the conversation were a joy to
to be honest. If someone doesn’t show for a listen to and the expressions a real challenge to
zoom meeting you just get an extra tea break. capture. It was great to see a bunch of 70 or
But if you’ve asked an expert and artist to turn more students giving that a go.
up and the participants don’t show that’s a
whole different level of irritation. So some of The other was Andy West, author of ‘The
the differences were just logistical. That aside, Life Inside’, a memoir of his time teaching
it’s more fun face to face. The conversations philosophy in prisons. He discussed the puzzle
The Body Issue | Φ 48