In addition to the stories and photos you fine here, I invite you to check out the exhibit at Good For Her. If you've never been to Good For Her (http://www.goodforher.com), you should go. It's a great place. The opening tea for this exhibit will be held the afternoon of Friday November 3rd from 2pm to 5pm. Myself and some of the models will be in attendance, sipping peppermint tea and telling stories about the body. Join us!
About the Project:
The Life Lines project documents and explores how physical scars influence our sense of self. I became interested in this topic when I realized that despite having many body-image issues, I have never felt ashamed or embarrassed about the large scar on my stomach. I wondered why that was. I now suspect that the narrative behind my scar helped me to incorporate it into my identity. I could see my scar as an ugly blemish, but instead I see it as evidence of my parents' love, my personal strength and my body's ability to heal.
Perhaps because they are anomalies, scars seem to invite both the asking of questions and the telling of stories. I became curious about other people's scar experiences. Because I find them aesthetically beautiful, I decided to photograph them.
Shooting this show was an amazing experience for me. I learned much about the intricate relationship between the photographer and the subject; as people bared the often hidden 'imperfect' parts of themselves, I was let into several worlds of personal struggle, healing and reflection. I feel honoured to have been allowed such intimacy and to be able to share it both online and at Good For Her.
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I've started the academic research side of this project. Tonight I came across two photos from an article (in German) by the philosopher and social critic Mikhail Bakhtin. Bakhtin holds that
"eating, drinking, digestion, coition, birth, illness, death, putrefaction and other acts of the body drama occur at the boundary between body and world. Here on the surface of the body ... is located the scar, which has medical, psychological, social, political or moral aspects." (Burkhart)
Bakhtin may be referring to the scar as a liminal state, a place marked by the meeting of interior and exterior worlds. He might be, and he might not. I don't know -- it's in German. These are images from the article.
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When I first began to explore scars, I started with my own. I presented some installation/interactive art pieces at the Bodies of Knowledge conference at University of Toronto and at Java Knights with Gay West Toronto. This is one of the fliers for those events. It's a photo of my intestinal surgery scar.
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Nikita King recently interviewed both myself and Shara about the Life Lines project for The Medium. This is the text of her interview, which can also be found at http://www.mediumonline.ca/news/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=541&Itemid=87
Visual arts: Scars and Stories
By Nikita King
The aesthetic encompasses all forms of enchantment. Beauty ranges over very different sorts of feelings and actions. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder but one aspect is constant. Beauty always inspires.
Through the eye of a camera lens, Svea Vikander, captures the beauty of bodily imperfections that were once seen as horrid flaws. Vikander, a visual artist, displays her work at a photo exhibit called Life Lines at Good For Her. Life Lines is about scars and the way they impact our sense of self. Vikander believes that scars invite questions and tell stories which contribute to our identity.
Q: As a U of T Graduate could you tell us briefly about your academic achievements and your love for visual arts.
A: Well, I obtained a degree in psychology and I see myself as a therapist as well as an artist. When I trained as a psycho therapist, the stories people tell about their scars are very similar to the stories I hear from my clients. However, I was always an artist because I grew up with art and my mother is also a designer.
Q: When I think of the name Life Lines, it makes me think about my younger days where I referred to Life Lines as the lines engraved into our palms, mainly because I thought it held the story of my life to come. However, from the wonders of your project, you mention that scars do tell stories. Could you tell us the story of your scar that helped you appreciate the beauty of scars?
A: I think that the lines in our palms are just like the any other scars or lines on our bodies that tell stories about ourselves. The story about the large scar on my stomach began when I was only three months old. I had problems with my stomach and had to be rushed to hospital. I almost died but I survived the surgery. From then onwards, if I ever wanted to be reassured of love, I would ask my mother about the operation and she would tell the story on how she almost lost her first born child. The scar reminds me of how special I am to my parents and how lucky I am to be alive.
Q: Last Friday was a very special day for you because it was the grand opening of your photograph exhibit at Good For Her. Could you share any memorable events and describe the exhibits displayed at the event?
A: (laughs) I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect people to come to the event!
But there were a lot of people that found the photographs beautiful. I had people coming up to me and telling me the stories of their scars. There was a woman called Miranda who showed me the scar on her arm and allowed me to photograph it at Good For Her. It really was an honour for me to talk with people who felt so comfortable and open about their scars. Good For Her itself, sells sex toys so it contributed to a very uncensored and open atmosphere!
Q: Do you intend to expand on your current project: Life Lines or are there other project that you have in mind?
A: I’m not sure about that because I initially thought that I had done enough work.
But people have been hinting at suggestions on what I could do with my project, so we’ll see how it goes. The exhibit at Good For Her will continue for the month of November but the webpage is ongoing.
Q: When I look at your photographs, they seem to tell more than just stories because I feel that at the same time, they are emotionally moving. My favourite is the photograph of Shara’s scar that runs along her back. The tranquil lighting and the way she rests her hands on her neck creates this sense of peaceful self-acceptance. What do you try and capture when photographing your subjects?
A: That really depends on the subject. Sometimes I am more focused on documenting like the time I photographed Miranda at the photo exhibit. Usually, I ask the subjects what the scar means to them. This helps me understand how they feel and gives an idea on how the photograph can portray their feelings. Sometimes they feel alienated and there are times when it increases their self acceptance.
Q: On your webpage you mention that photographing parts that people usually try to hide is sometimes a mix of therapy and art. Could you elaborate on this unique experience?
A: As a therapist, sometimes I wish I could take pictures when I’m with a client. After a therapy session I always feel inspired to practice art. Many people also E-mail me and tell me that the photos on my webpage have helped them look at their scar differently. I also find that expressing creativity is very therapeutic.
Q: I find it very interesting how some things can be transformed into something of beauty depending on how you look at it. What if some people have negative experiences such as fear attached to their scar, how could they try and perceive it as something beautiful?
A: This is a very interesting yet difficult question. From my experience, my scar has been uniformly positive. Not everyone looks at their scar in a positive way. Some scars are self-inflicted or serve as a traumatic reminder. However, the old therapeutic advice says that the first step to healing is acknowledgment. I also think it helps if you to talk these things out in a safe place with a person you trust.
Q: Many vanity magazines promote this false bodily perfection which hardly even exists. What do you think about this?
A: I think it’s important to look at it from a cross-cultural perspective where different cultures can view scars differently. Generally, people want to hide their scars but from an artistic point of view, I find imperfections more interesting than perfections. I have always been intrigued by any evidence of change.
Q: What kind of learning experiences did you gain from this exciting project?
A: Wow, so much! It’s taught me about the complex relationship between the photographer and the subject. It’s very collaborative, and there is always this certain amount of personal power and limit that is to be respected. I can relate these experiences with the relationship between a therapist and client. The creativity has also helped me integrate different therapeutic approaches when working with clients.
Shara, a model that is featured on Vikander’s webpage, shares the story of her scar:
When I was about 13, I had to wear a brace for several years because I had scoliosis.
This wasn’t very effective, so the doctor implanted a Harrington rod near me spine and fused some vertebrae. I had a 50% chance of becoming paralyzed but I did recover. I wasn’t just left with a scar along my back but my back itself became asymmetrical. When Svea took the picture of me, I was really shy at first because usually when I get photographed, the photographer wants the best shot that makes me look pretty. However, Svea was more focused on the imperfection. I became more comfortable and it was shocking to hear someone say that they liked the scar.
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Colman Hogan, a former professor of mine, referred me to the poem 'La Vermeillette Fente' by Ronsard:
Je te salue, ô vermeillette fente
Qui vivement entre ces flancs reluis;
Je te salue, ô bienheuré pertuis,
Qui rend ma vie heureusement contente!
C'est toi qui fais que plus ne me tourmente
L'archer volant qui causait mes ennuis;
T'ayant tenu seulement quatre nuits,
Je sens ma force en moi déjà plus lente.
Ô petit trou, trou mignard, trou velu,
D'un poil follet mollement crêpelu,
Qui à ton gré domptes les plus rebelles:
Tous verts galants devraient, pour t'honorer,
A beaux genoux te venir adorer,
Tenant au poing leurs flambantes chandelles!
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The following is a selection of excerpts from a paper I wrote in the summer of 2003 for an excellent course called Women And Health at U of T. It was one of the most difficult and rewarding courses I had ever taken. This is my first examination of skin and scarring. I am currently reworking these ideas for this project.
Initial Examination: June 9th 2004
Intro: ‘Normal’ skin practices
As western women, we hurt our skin. We spend billions of dollars on painful processes and products designed to cleanse, smooth, lighten and decorate our skin. In our society, each woman’s face and body is observed, evaluated, objectified and controlled; women control their bodies through the actions that are encouraged by the society at large. Accompanying this intense scrutiny of skin are many unhappy events. Some women lacerate and pick at their skin; less prolific and stigmatized skin issues are also evident. The rituals performed to ‘improve’ women’s skin are often painful, health-damaging, and enacted compulsively. We pluck, pull, and squeeze; we expose our skin to harmful UV rays.
Sensation/Pain: Touching Skin
The sensation of touch is a fundamental part of humanity. While the biomedical model emphasizes sight as the sense of analysis (Sturken and Cartwright, 2002, 279-280), touch is our first contact with the world, “how we first receive love.” (Matte, 2003, 202) In my experience, being held by another has given me the deepest sense of relationship to my body. Some theorists propose that pain caused by touch sensation may have similar effects. Perhaps when one picks and squeezes at her pores she is also ‘pinching herself’ into knowing that she is there.
Although pain is generally considered cause for dissociation, Connor proposes that “…some of the masochistic pleasure in being spanked, whipped, and even tickled…[may] come from the sensation of shapedness, boundedness and entirety and it may give to a person with an insecure sense of their own body image and boundaries.” (Connor, 2004, 35)
While women are sent the message that they are incomplete, they are also encouraged to perform painful skin practices; how convenient, then, that these practices bring a sense of completion and wholeness. Perhaps the oft-quoted idea that tattoos help to heal are related to this (Demello, 2000, 164).
Along with the factor of psychological attachment to a tattoo’s symbolism, the physical pain of etching into skin may bring a woman’s attention to her body. Gail’s narrative (in Demello) attests to this. She says, “This tattoo….became my shield. I became strong and I would have it recoloured in when I started to feel weak.” (167) Gail used the pain generated by the tattoo needle to remind her of the goals symbolized by her tattoo, and to bring her back to a sense of self. She was having her tattoo touched up.
Pseudo-Healing:
A related sense of ‘taking care’ of oneself while having beauty practices performed – whether painful or not – may also bring women a sense of physical connection. The salon and spa atmospheres typically convey healing, as evidenced in their references to the clinical medical setting (for example through the use of white lab coats). Aestheticians have been termed “professional touchers” (Morris, 1971, 158). They are trained professionals whom we pay to touch us in a misdirected search for physical intimacy.
The bond between professional and client often runs deeper than a payment-for-services relationship. A hairdresser once told me that she wished she had become a counselor instead. She said, “I’d do the same work, but get paid more.” As pseudo-patients in a pseudo-medical and pseudo-psychotherapeutic setting, clients often share private parts of their lives. We feel cared for, even when undergoing physically painful beauty ceremonies. The pain that western women inflict on their skin not only brings a more full sensation of skin/body but is also enveloped in an environment which encourages a sense of healing.
Creative Methods of Healing:
We must now move toward a more realistic and authentic healing. The commercialized culture of spa and aesthetic treatments is financially taxing and may promote women’s disconnection between skin and self. The salon is the epicenter of painful and destructive treatments (for example, waxing as a form of hair-removal), and the interests of the aesthetician and client often conflict. We do not have to hurt ourselves to bring ourselves back to reality.
Feminist literature provides a plethora of ideas and practices to encourage the evolution of a healthy relationship to skin. Iris Marion Young describes the possibility of “a discovery, recovery and invention of women’s culture. We can mine traditionally female social practices and experiences and find in them specific ways that we as women related to one another and to ourselves.” (Young, 1990, 186) In application to skin practices, this could mean reclaiming salon treatments which help us to feel happy and alive. Dhanani describes joyfully rubbing lotion over her entire body, which helped her to “start living through … [her] body as opposed to being locked up in … [her] head.” (Dhanani, 1999, 34)
Beyond the individual lie social solutions to this culturally constructed problem. Women need equally powerful positive messages regarding their skin as they receive from the dominant culture. A good place to start promoting healthy skin-image is within the family. In my own experience, my family’s consistently positive message has helped me to love and cherish what could be considered a major skin “flaw”. Working on this paper has alerted me to the fact that not all my relations with my skin are dysfunctional.
Scars for Healing:For example, I have a six-inch vertical scar on my stomach. I have no problems with this scar, and I do not think I ever have. It is the result of a life-saving operation that I underwent as an infant. Both my parents have always been thankful for it. They express joy when discussing my survival (asking about my scar is the easiest way to make my mother cry), and thereby convey their love for me and my body.
Perhaps I could make this socially-perceived ‘imperfection’ a model for he way I approach other ‘imperfections’ in my skin. I have never considered this scar as an entity separate from myself. Quite the opposite, in fact – it is something unique to me, “my line”. What a difference it would make if families cherished every part of a young woman’s body equally, and encouraged her to do the same?
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This is Dave's story. He was in a car-crash on the 401 about five years ago.
