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Contamination as a Collaborator
Ideas of hybridity are closely tied to ideas of contamination. The hybrid is the opposite of the pure. To achieve purity involves remaining separate and not entangled. The “pure” is held up as an attainable utopia. However, if the world is formed relationally, a return to healthy statis is one of contamination and relation. There is nothing without disturbance. However, there are layers and forms of contamination that can be unhealthy. When thinking of humans and contamination, the term is strongly tied to the Capitalocene. When I refer to contamination as collaboration, I am speaking about it as a way of processing our inherent multiplicity. Within the Capitalocene, contamination is toxins, oil spills, garbage, factories, urban sprawl. Within daily household contexts, contamination is mold, dirt, a fruit fly in a glass of wine. Contamination as collaboration takes on different meanings within the different contexts of contamination, however each involves a change, a becoming-with. In the same way that a fruit fly can change a wine into a flourishing microbial vinegar, can we find ways to undo the Capitalocene and its effects through collaboration?
Imperfect systems, subterranean connectivity, and contamination as forms of growth act as conceptual supports. In my work, I am incorporating waste into systems of support and growth in which the waste can be metabolized and transformed. Through my work, I am intentional in the ways I integrate household and industrial waste, as it is representative of our current predicament as humans who are still grappling with the Capitalocene.
The primary mode of dealing with trash and recyclable plastics in North America currently is to remove it from sight, through sending it to landfills or even exporting it to out-of-country facilities where it is often mismanaged, ending up in the ocean (McCormick, 2019). There are massive amounts of trash to remediate. Throughout my work, I have chosen to bring plastics and garbage into these sites of multi-species collaboration, integrating these detritus elements into larger installations that nurture growth and transformation. This inclusion within my practice recognizes our current reliance on industrial and chemical products within the process of moving towards sustainable futures and alternatives.
Artist Anicka Yi explores very literal acts of contamination in her work. In a 2017 show at the Guggenheim, she created a climate-controlled room lined with agar titled Force Majeure. The agar tiles have been inoculated with swabs taken from Manhattan’s Chinatown and Koreatown and have been allowed to bloom, spreading over the all surfaces of the room. Yi’s work invites viewers to see contamination as an active collaborator within the art and, by extension, within our lives. Contamination has been something on the forefront of most people’s minds due to the COVID-19 pandemic. During this pandemic, communities worldwide have increased sterilization protocols in an attempt to offset the ways in which microorganisms naturally shift and inhabit bodies. However, this has imparted an increased awareness of how we as humans are vulnerable components of an integrated system.
In a recent interview with Artnet, Yi describes how the pandemic has shaped our collective understanding of this vulnerability:
Just as COVID-19 reminds that we are not immune to microorganisms as a part of nature and sparked a surge in sterilization, it has also sparked a renewed interest in processes using microorganisms, most notably the massive rise of sourdough bread in the early months of the pandemic (Holmes, “The Science of Sourdough: How Microbes Enabled a Pandemic Pastime”). It should not be overlooked that the process of sourdough involves drawing bacteria from the air which is in direct opposition to the intense sterilization incurred by safe pandemic protocols. However, sourdough bread draws atmospheric yeast and is a mirror of your immediate environment. Sourdough expert Vanessa Kimbell says in her book The Sourdough School that if two people each make a sourdough loaf, their ecosystems, flavours, and textures will always be unique (23). This is even within the context of being in the same room as the other person making bread. The question, though unanswered, remains whether it is the yeast growing on the maker that is the true influence in the development of the yeast within the bread? Although Kimbell once had her gut microbiome tested and did not find overlap, the skin microbiome and the gut microbiome are not composed identically. They are interconnected but varied ecosystems within the holobiont. ︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎🕳️
Contamination as a Collaborator
Ideas of hybridity are closely tied to ideas of contamination. The hybrid is the opposite of the pure. To achieve purity involves remaining separate and not entangled. The “pure” is held up as an attainable utopia. However, if the world is formed relationally, a return to healthy statis is one of contamination and relation. There is nothing without disturbance. However, there are layers and forms of contamination that can be unhealthy. When thinking of humans and contamination, the term is strongly tied to the Capitalocene. When I refer to contamination as collaboration, I am speaking about it as a way of processing our inherent multiplicity. Within the Capitalocene, contamination is toxins, oil spills, garbage, factories, urban sprawl. Within daily household contexts, contamination is mold, dirt, a fruit fly in a glass of wine. Contamination as collaboration takes on different meanings within the different contexts of contamination, however each involves a change, a becoming-with. In the same way that a fruit fly can change a wine into a flourishing microbial vinegar, can we find ways to undo the Capitalocene and its effects through collaboration?
Imperfect systems, subterranean connectivity, and contamination as forms of growth act as conceptual supports. In my work, I am incorporating waste into systems of support and growth in which the waste can be metabolized and transformed. Through my work, I am intentional in the ways I integrate household and industrial waste, as it is representative of our current predicament as humans who are still grappling with the Capitalocene.
The primary mode of dealing with trash and recyclable plastics in North America currently is to remove it from sight, through sending it to landfills or even exporting it to out-of-country facilities where it is often mismanaged, ending up in the ocean (McCormick, 2019). There are massive amounts of trash to remediate. Throughout my work, I have chosen to bring plastics and garbage into these sites of multi-species collaboration, integrating these detritus elements into larger installations that nurture growth and transformation. This inclusion within my practice recognizes our current reliance on industrial and chemical products within the process of moving towards sustainable futures and alternatives.
Artist Anicka Yi explores very literal acts of contamination in her work. In a 2017 show at the Guggenheim, she created a climate-controlled room lined with agar titled Force Majeure. The agar tiles have been inoculated with swabs taken from Manhattan’s Chinatown and Koreatown and have been allowed to bloom, spreading over the all surfaces of the room. Yi’s work invites viewers to see contamination as an active collaborator within the art and, by extension, within our lives. Contamination has been something on the forefront of most people’s minds due to the COVID-19 pandemic. During this pandemic, communities worldwide have increased sterilization protocols in an attempt to offset the ways in which microorganisms naturally shift and inhabit bodies. However, this has imparted an increased awareness of how we as humans are vulnerable components of an integrated system.
In a recent interview with Artnet, Yi describes how the pandemic has shaped our collective understanding of this vulnerability:
We still adopt a very modern definition of nature today: a space that we can willfully jump in and out of. What COVID is teaching us is that actually, nature is everywhere. It’s in us, we carry it everywhere, and environmentally it’s everywhere. We can’t eradicate it. And so we need to create a new kind of political philosophy based on this lesson.
Just as COVID-19 reminds that we are not immune to microorganisms as a part of nature and sparked a surge in sterilization, it has also sparked a renewed interest in processes using microorganisms, most notably the massive rise of sourdough bread in the early months of the pandemic (Holmes, “The Science of Sourdough: How Microbes Enabled a Pandemic Pastime”). It should not be overlooked that the process of sourdough involves drawing bacteria from the air which is in direct opposition to the intense sterilization incurred by safe pandemic protocols. However, sourdough bread draws atmospheric yeast and is a mirror of your immediate environment. Sourdough expert Vanessa Kimbell says in her book The Sourdough School that if two people each make a sourdough loaf, their ecosystems, flavours, and textures will always be unique (23). This is even within the context of being in the same room as the other person making bread. The question, though unanswered, remains whether it is the yeast growing on the maker that is the true influence in the development of the yeast within the bread? Although Kimbell once had her gut microbiome tested and did not find overlap, the skin microbiome and the gut microbiome are not composed identically. They are interconnected but varied ecosystems within the holobiont. ︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎🕳️