Vegetable paper spheres

Here, it’s raining!
Lights and paper installation 2011

Paper of celluloses of wild oats, iris, gynkgo, poplar, hackberry, palm, natural yucca and dyed with turmeric, shallot and madder.

The exposed paper spheres are fine lace made of raw fibers vegetable paper. In suspension, they float in lines of light, giving a glimpse of writing.
For me, it is an emotional space to cross, something intimate that projects itself as a shadow on the ground, here, where we sow life.

I love to immerse myself in nature – Article for iapma bulletin about watermarks.

I love to immerse myself in nature. The day I discovered paper making I’d found a medium through which to share my encounters with the plant world with others.

Paper reveals itself to me as something in its own right, complete in itself, expressive of its own self, rather than just being the backdrop for writing.

The paper embodies the quality of my wanderings in nature, that of being both apart from the world, and, sheltered by the canopy of trees, unusually close to it.

The transformation of plants into paper fibres through the alchemy of the cooking process produces a vibrant material. The fibres are then neutralised to ph7 in order to be worked upon.

I have adapted the Japanese paper making technique to the local fibres that I find around me. Drawn to the diaphanous textures of Japanese paper, I’ve discovered that when one chemically extracts cellulose directly from plants, one can obtain longer fibres. With the addition of Neri, the viscous substance extracted from plants, the fibres stretch, rendering the paper transparent, malleable and strong.

While the paper pulp is still in the paper form I ‘write’ on it, using jets of water to make traces or ‘tracks’. The force of the jets parts the shreds of the fibres into well defined grooves. I can also create effects and draw sign by ‘raining’ down water onto the paper, or letting it run across the paper in rivulets.

The surface is pierced, rendered fragile by the water marks. The paper bears witness to damage, the inevitable wear and tear of life. It speaks of passage. I love to make the surface as thin as absolutely possible, like a film, a skin that tells the invisible story of that which has touched me, that which is there, but ineffably, not possible to be said, a murmur in the ear.

. The day I discovered paper making I’d found a medium through which to share my encounters with the plant world with others.

Paper reveals itself to me as something in its own right, complete in itself, expressive of its own self, rather than just being the backdrop for writing.

The paper embodies the quality of my wanderings in nature, that of being both apart from the world, and, sheltered by the canopy of trees, unusually close to it.

The transformation of plants into paper fibres through the alchemy of the cooking process produces a vibrant material. The fibres are then neutralised to ph7 in order to be worked upon.

I have adapted the Japanese paper making technique to the local fibres that I find around me. Drawn to the diaphanous textures of Japanese paper, I’ve discovered that when one chemically extracts cellulose directly from plants, one can obtain longer fibres. With the addition of Neri, the viscous substance extracted from plants, the fibres stretch, rendering the paper transparent, malleable and strong.

While the paper pulp is still in the paper form I ‘write’ on it, using jets of water to make traces or ‘tracks’. The force of the jets parts the shreds of the fibres into well defined grooves. I can also create effects and draw sign by ‘raining’ down water onto the paper, or letting it run across the paper in rivulets.

The surface is pierced, rendered fragile by the water marks. The paper bears witness to damage, the inevitable wear and tear of life. It speaks of passage. I love to make the surface as thin as absolutely possible, like a film, a skin that tells the invisible story of that which has touched me, that which is there, but ineffably, not possible to be said, a murmur in the ear.