Michael Joo
With Single Breath Transfer, I inflated bags I found on the street outside of liquor stores and bodegas with breath from my lungs, then quickly froze their form with liquid nitrogen, and made a ceramic mold that was passed to a glass blower, who filled the form with their own exhalation. The resulting vessel is a record of transfer.
Transmission has bad connotations these days, but our bodies remain. The haptic and sensorial can bridge intellectual and experiential life. As long as pathogens have existed, organisms have been known to try and protect their juicy insides. Maybe the delicate electricity of these sensations at the vulnerable fringes of our bodies’ borders is proportional to the danger it represents. The land we occupy and inscribe reflects our own attitudes as a species with its boundaries, ecological preserves, and demilitarized zones.
At this moment I am preparing an online meeting for my “Field Studies” course. Maybe the future of digital technology in art will have less to do with its use as a medium, and focus instead on how and what we feel as we push our hands and fingers through its membrane, increasingly enveloping our daily lives. For the immediate present, helping each other will take place at a distance. But can art somehow put us in the same room and keep us in touch?