Knitting some ideas together on anthropology, art and perception
Sensuous anthropology & the 99 bus ethnography
In the Taste of Ethnographic Things (1989) Paul Stoller calls for a more sensuous approach to ethnographic writing. The influence of enlightenment thinking has led to Western anthropology privileging the visual. Stoller argues this can hinder the ethnographer’s communication of sensory information. Steven Feld takes this one step further, coming to the realisation that an ethnography in sound (Feld, 2015: xxvii) can significantly contribute to the communication of the multiple layers of sonic culture and ecological acoustics present in the Bosavi jungle. Feld started using sound in order to give a greater appreciation of the sonic experience of the Bosavi. He considers acoustics as a form of epistemology, ‘sound as a capacity to know, and as a habit of knowing’ (ibid.). This is incredibly important because it not only recognises that sensory culture effects the way we perceive and engage with the world, but it also highlights the importance of appealing to different ways of communicating the vastness of human experience. Just as different senses elicit different kinds of knowledge, different forms of communication elicit different kinds of knowledge. Representing sensory information has been one of the reasons for a growing field of interdisciplinary research and practice between art and anthropology for this reason. (Schneider & Wright, 2010: 5-8)
There is much conversation, mostly undistinguishable as the combination of voices coalesces to become the rise and fall of chattering birds. The only discernible conversation is being had by two ladies sat behind me, but they speak in patterns of sound that don’t mean anything to me. The bus rumbles into action. I become aware, while listening, to the layers of sound. The continuous surge and decline of the bus’s engine as it changes gear. The cacophony of voices, interspersed with the occasional ringing of the bell.
I sit on the bus, surrounded by people. Every seat is full. Trying to imagine the ways I might later attempt to evoke a sense of the experience in writing. But do I want to evoke a sense of the experience or a sense of the sound? The challenge of separating an evocation of sound from the rest of the sensory environment becomes increasingly clear. A slightly sour smell of cold sweat is present and at the forefront of my perception. It becomes difficult to separate this smell from the sounds I hear. They are part of a whole perceptual environment. Caroline Potter, describes the senses as an ‘intermeshed web’ (Potter 2008: 446). This becomes clear to me as I try to represent sound in text without engaging with the totality of my sensory environment. However, it seems that honing in on a particular sense can be useful. I notice sound in ways I haven’t before. I begin to think of sound in layers.
Learning by doing, perceptions of skill
On week three we were asked to learn a new skill. I chose to teach a dog to roll over. This seemed like a convenient task to choose as I have recently moved in with a young Labrador named Ham. (Ham is Romanian for woof.) I soon realised this was a slightly more complex skill to learn as my learning was dependent upon Ham’s learning – and Ham is not very well trained. Hence why I originally thought this might be a good idea.
I found myself adapting my voice to mimic the voice Ham associates with authority. I had to become much firmer with my body language. The power dynamics of our relationship changed as I adopted an authoritative role. However, my simply doing something did not necessarily incite Ham’s cooperation.
Nevertheless, doing this task made me aware of what can be learnt about perception through skill development. I decided to continue and follow my progress throughout my journal. Although, I had realised that perhaps teaching a dog to roll over wasn’t a skill I actually desperately wanted to learn and that my skill progression may be more easily measured if it wasn’t tied to that of another learner.
In March of this year I attended a Museum open day event, hoping to volunteer by assisting with some of the practical workshops. Unfortunately, the event wasn’t as busy as anticipated, and my help was no longer needed. Still, I thought I would stay and take the opportunity to try out some of the different workshops myself. I joined a small group of ladies knitting. I had never knitted before, but they taught me the basics and even gifted me some needles and wool to take home so that I could continue.
I pictured my needles and wool sitting at home, admittedly barely touched since, and thought that learning to knit would be a perfect means of skill development. I already had the essential tools, I could accommodate it into my life quite easily.
As it is a craft, I would also be able to think about perception from the maker’s point of view, as well as use it to consider the role of arts and craft more generally in culture and society. I perceived it to have many potentially interesting avenues of investigation relevant to anthropological discourse. I thought of myself knitting as following lines, and of the dexterity I would need to develop negotiating with tools. I have decided to pursue my skill development as a theme throughout my journal, while contextualising my progression, or sometimes a lack thereof, in the weekly lecture topics.
Touch and tension
As a beginner, I expect that my experience of knitting is more visual than it would be of someone more skilled, or perhaps, visual in a different way. I have to watch where I’m putting my needle to make sure I’m not taking a piece of wool off somewhere it shouldn’t be. When I get too relaxed, I forget myself and find I’ve been threading my needle in the wrong direction. As I knit, I need to watch my actions with a fair amount of concentration. I imagine that a more skilled knitter might be able to concentrate less on watching their hands and instead rely on muscle memory. Their visual experience may be centred around understanding complex patterns, that guide them through making a particular garment.
Wool has a distinctive feel, but I was surprised to find that my perception of touch was not most concerned with the feel of the wool but with the pressure applied to my actions, and the tension between my hands, the needles and the thread. When I knit sometimes the tension of the wool wrapped around itself gets so much that it becomes impossible to work with.
Ingold, Beckett, and the sonority of speech
Fig. 1
‘It seems that, in listening to speech, our awareness penetrates through the sound to reach a world of verbal meaning beyond. And by the same token, that world is absolutely silent – as silent, indeed, as are the pages of a book. In short, whereas sound is of the essence of music, language is mute.’ (Ingold, T. 2007:6)
'how was the sound taken out of language?'
(Ingold, 2007:8)
In Lines: a brief history (2007) Tim Ingold argues that language has been separated from sound in contemporary western thought (Ingold, 2007:6). However, this was not always the case. Ingold notes that in the middle ages communicating the word of God was dependent upon the musicality of the human voice (ibid. 7). Furthermore, 'monastic readers would follow the text with their lips as much as with their eyes, pronouncing or murmuring the word sounds as they went along. The sounds that came forth were known as voces paginarum – the ‘voices of the pages’ (Leclercq 1961: 19; Olson 1994: 183–5). The more they read, the more their heads would be filled with a chorus of such voices.' (ibid. 14) In this example sound and text are interrelated, however, centuries later, according to Saussure language could be understood not as a physical sound, but a mental image (ibid. 7).
Reading this I was instantly reminded of the work of Samuel Beckett, and in particular Not I. Beckett’s work is an example of how art can challenge and experiment with our contemporary understanding of the relationship between speech and sound. Ingold goes onto examine how the script and the score came to be distinguished from one another; ‘the graphic marks on the page refer to concepts in the one case, and to actual sounds in the other’ (ibid.16). However, he notes that the theatre script operates somewhere between this distinction, as the text's function is not fully realised until it is performed (ibid. 12). Thus the theatre script seems well placed to address the separation of language from sound. While theatre scripts bring voice to text, works such as Not I engages with the affect of sound as much as the meaning in the words. The reduction of the stage space to a spotlight on a lone mouth further evens the keel between language and sound. Narrowing in on this expressive body part reminds us of the physicality of speech.
Interestingly, I have found that music was a major influence for Beckett (Doran, 2014). Doran notes the similarity between Beckett’s script for Not I and a musical score; ‘snatches of staccato words, spacings with as many dots as pauses, are a sonic notation that guides tempo, rhythm and even a sense of pitch.’ (Doran, 2014)
For Beckett as for Socrates and Plato, musicality and text are inherently related. Moreover, Beckett’s theatre subverts Saussure's linguistic theory, not only by re-associating written text with the sound of the spoken word, but by challenging the idea that words are represented internally as images rather than sounds. Bernini suggests that the text in Beckett’s plays represent the character’s ‘inner voice’. (Bernini, 2014) Thus, it seems that Beckett’s theatre foregrounds a relationship to language that can be more closely associated with the ‘monastic readers’ (Ingold, 2007:14) of the middle ages.
Observation
A selection of personal photographs taken over the course of the past 11 weeks. For me, each of these images reflect one or more themes covered in the module.
Design anthropology: knitting technology
The journal task itself replicates the challenges faced by sensory anthropologists in attempting to represent different forms of sensory information. I have been wrestling with the question of how to represent multimedia information as a concise whole, in a way that does not compromise or dismiss the multiple perceptual properties present in a single object. For example, I want to include the swatches in their physical form as I am conscious of the contradiction of keeping them at a purely visual remove from the perceiver.
Knitted wool is a distinctly tactile experience for both craftsperson and user. I think the swatches need to be
touched in order to be fully understood. I want the reader to be able to feel the mistakes and the progress as well as
simply see them. I also think the experience of the object itself is a more engaging one for the perceiver. Rather
than singling out one particular sense, it appeals to all of the senses. As a result, the objects can be understood
in its entirety.
Doing Scenography, I learnt there is always a way to
present information, that is not only apt but also
surprising and critical. The medium is as important in
communicating an idea as the content itself. It asks you to
consider the information in a different way. This sort of
creative criticality is very important to me. I believe that
art and design, both making and perceiving asks of us to
meet the world in a different way. It opens up the mind
to alternative ways of knowing and perceiving that push
us forward as creative beings.
In attempting to address the problem of representing
multi-sensory information I came up against a second
problem. How to present these various mediums, of text,
object and video on a single platform. I wanted to find a
solution to the problem of presenting objects separately
from the documentation of their making. I considered a
QR code as a more seamless way of making the transition
from page to screen. So, I have decided to combine my skill development knit a QR code. In this sense the problem of how to present the results of my skill development also becomes the answer.
Wright and Schneider state that art is one way of addressing the issue of presenting sensorial anthropological research. My journal is a critical response to the issue of how to represent sensory anthropological information through craft. It is both my research and the means of communicating that research.
Naturally, my next question became; even if it can be done, would it work? To which I found the answer is yes. (Fig. 2)
Fig. 2
I consider this effort a form of design anthropology. This process opens up space for an investigation into the way we engage with the world through both craft and technology, both respectively and together. It asks me to consider the cultural implications of this combination and the perceptual implications of a craft object which, imbued with its own network of social relations, becomes a gateway to a vast digital network. Its ‘design’ may be a solution to my problem, but it also poses further questions concerning the nature of perception and transformation.
What happens to a craft object when it becomes digitised?
'implanting craft into machinery'
(Spuybroek, 2011:26)
In Textile Tectonics (2011) Lars Spuybroek attempts to dispel the conflation of digital technology with industrial machinery. (ibid.) Spuybroek criticises the argument presented by Richard Sennett in The Craftsman (2008), claiming that it amounts to the proposition of a 'technological diet' (ibid.). Rather, Spuybroek believes that digital design technology must be developed in such a way that affords variability, which Spuybroek presents as a virtue of the craft process. Thus for Spuybroek, technology is not the antithesis of craft, as it was for Ruskin, but craft itself. (ibid.29)
'The issue is not technology itself but how it relates to human perception and action'
ibid.26
While Spuybroek attempts to bring craft to digital technology, I am reversing this process by bringing digital technology to craft. However, for the latter, variation creates a risk that the technology will fail to function. In Spuybroek's view bringing craft to technology enables a more nuanced approach to digital design, but does bringing technology to craft limit the design or expand the materials communicative capacity by becoming a digital gateway?
Sociality and Knit Soc
At this point I have realised that I will need more help than a Youtube video can provide. Although there is proof online that knitting a QR code can be done, there are no indications as to how. I decided to get in touch with the university’s knitting society, who have kindly agreed to advise me.
My knitting has now taken on a whole new social dimension, as a result of attending knit soc meetings Mondays 7-9 and Fridays 4-6. I find that my experience is mirrored in Gilian Ruland's description of her own (Ruland, 2010:2-4). Like me, Ruland arrived with an anthropological research interest, but found herself gaining the same satisfaction from the group as her informants, as well as a sense of community as someone new to the area.
Ruland's research seeks to understand the reasons why organised forms of social knitting have 'exploded in popularity' (ibid.5) over recent years. Citing Suzyn Jackson, Ruland acknowledges that there is no single reason that compels people to knit. However, I found a particular motivation that Jackson notes to be resonant with my most recent experience with the knitting society.
Although less overtly political, throughout the week of November 5th knitting meetings have been dedicated to a social cause - knitting poppies for Remembrance Sunday. The broader social and political intentions behind the action reminds me of the knitted knockers movement, which gained attention in 2017. Knitted knockers are prosthetic breasts made by volunteers for women who have undergone a mastectomy. In these instances the knitting instigates something like a meshwork, as the social impetus behind the craft requires that it be distributed, becoming part of a wider social network. Thus the sociality of knitting extends beyond that of the knitting group itself.
'In resistance to the Stamp Tax of 1765, colonial women boycotted English goods, resolving to clothe their families in ‘naught but homespun.’ Spinning and knitting bees became a mania, as women realized that their domestic pursuits had political implications' (Jackson 2009:9).
Learning from a more skilled individual
Fig. 3
As Ingold acknowledges, skill development is reliant upon and influenced by the teachings of a more skilled individual. (Ingold, 2000:37) Upon attending the knit soc workshops, it became clear that the way you would be taught was dependent upon who was teaching you. There is no one way to cast on for example, but the different techniques, as Ingold recognises, were informed by the different learning processes of my teachers. Due to the social environment in which I learn, my enskilment then is an amalgamation of many other’s - one person’s slip knot, another’s method of pattern design, and so on. My project therefore reflects this range of advice and teaching.
It was decided that double knitting would be the most appropriate technique through which to attempt my project.
I was advised to replicate the pattern of the QR code onto graph paper, so that I could easily follow the pattern, each square of the QR code representing a single stitch. In this way, I was deconstructing the code’s pattern, so that it could be read and reconstructed by other means.
Through this learning process the squares that make up the QR code have begun to take on new meaning. Like Beckett's theatre text, the pattern is a script which I can now read, but it is also a score to be performed. This script also comes with what might be understood as its own grammar. A set of ‘rules’ which enable it to be performed. For example, because double knitting is the interweaving of two of colours, each square represents a single knit stitch and a single purl. As the pattern of the QR code breaks down on a graph into 29 boxes on the horizontal and vertical axes, each row consists of 58 stitches. Secondly, for every knit stitch the tail of the wool has to be at the back of my work, while for every purl it must be brought to the front. And perhaps most confusingly of all, every line which occurs on an odd number is to be read opposite to what I actually see. Let me explain further. As the knitting switches from one needle to the other, I work my way up the pattern from bottom to top in a zig zag. When working from right to left on the even rows I knit the colour of the pattern and purl the opposite. For example, if the square on the pattern is black, I knit black and purl white. However, when working from left to right on the odd rows, I knit the opposite to the colour which appears on the pattern and purl the colour that appeared.
By following a set of rules implicitly set out by my teacher, I was able to begin the task without necessarily understanding why these rules helped me to achieve it. In other words, I did without questioning. The QR code is now imbued with a craft code.
Teresa Pereda
Thinking about wool as a relational material reminds me of the work of Argentinian artist Teresa Pereda. Wright and Schneider locate Pereda’s work between the boundaries of art and anthropology. (Wright, Schneider, 2010:8-10) Pereda’s interactions with communities in the field are mediated by wool, which she brings with her from Patagonia. Wright and Schneider refer to the multiple layers of sociality that flowed through Flores para un desierto (2008), a participatory piece conducted by Pereda and the local community. Firstly, Pereda and members of the community collaborate in twisting the wool into large clews. The community then keep the wool, which becomes integrated into social life by way of cultural performance. For example, as seen in the images below, the wool is decorated with ribbons in celebration of the Spanish ceremony of floreo. Like the knitted poppies, the clews are the result of a collaborative act. The yarn of wool becoming a metaphor for the ‘web’ (ibid.10) of connections it makes, as it weaves its way into the social world of everyday life. There is something highly representational in thinking about textiles as part of a meshwork. The material line creates a social web. The woollen clew unravelling into the social world.
‘Not only is the clew used to relate to the local people and it is given to them as a gift, but is also has a transformative aspect in that it incorporates the work of appropriation, interferes in the cultural and natural landscapes, and connects both the artists, the people and their stories and materials, such as earth and wool.’ (ibid.9-10)
Fig. 4,5,6
Colour, ontology & transformation
My interest in this dynamic is related to my attempts to knit a QR code. I have been thinking about the transformative nature of its pattern. Turning a craft object, which is itself transformed from a ball of wool, into a ‘digital doorway’, an entrance to the digital world. What role does colour play in transporting us between physical and digital realities? In attempts to follow this question up I came across an article by Diana Young, which studies perceptions of colour among the Anangu people of Western Australia. Young explains, that according to the Anangu, the transformative capacity of colour is manifested in many ways, encompassing both the natural and manmade world.
In art this is displayed through the Ernabella walka, a style of painting in which the succession of coloured lines surrounding the outside of the central subject indicate movement. Young notes that the ideas present in this style of art can be traced back to the practice of milpatjunanyi.
'The storyteller holds the milpa, a bent stick, or wire, in one hand and taps it rhythmically on the earth. This is the base line; it represents going along, moving through the country, like the thump of the kangaroo's tail as the animal bounces through the bush. With her other hand the artist is drawing narrative scenes. One sand drawing is erased another is drawn on the same patch of ground, each event succeeding another 'canvas' of sand, like a movie (Munn 1973: 63-63).' (Young, 2011:363)
The landscape also transforms as a result of colour change, as sunset and sunrise reveal different parts of the landscape and incite a different understanding of it. (ibid. 367)
Young's account of the Anangu's experience of colour raised questions for me about how colour is perceived in the West. For Anangu people part of the changefulness of colour is that it is understood in relational terms. (ibid. 359).
In this sense colour is always changing in the eye of the perceiver. Whereas in the west, a colour is absolute, distinguished by a definitive identity. I imagine the classification of colour in this way forms our perception of colour as a static entity. Although, as the Anangu's perception of the landscape reminds us, in the natural world very few colours remain consistently the same. Perhaps our understanding of colour as static is reinforced by the unchanging colour state of the material goods with which we are surrounded.
This reminded me of a piece of Scenography made by my former classmate Eminay King, who has kindly agreed for me to use these photos, which document her process. Eminay's project began as an investigation into working with natural dyes. However, an accident involving spilt detergent revealed further possibilities concerning colour transformation. The Art of Dying (2017) invited audience members to spray a clear liquid onto the naturally dyed fabrics, which hung on a washing line, and see them transform before their eyes. It was the colours transformation that captivated the audience, suggesting that perhaps we do understand colour to be static in the western world.
Please select the arrow that appears on the right of the images below to view the full gallery.
'The sequences of coloured lines create a vibrational quality that, in the best examples in the evaluation of Anangu, make the image move.' (Young, 2011:364)
Colour performs
Fig. 7
Problem solving and making mistakes
While learning from a more skilled individual has significantly shaped my learning experience, it is through independent trial and (many) error(s) that I really integrated an understanding. I am now on my third attempt at knitting a QR code and I would like use this space to reflect on the process so far.
Attempt 1:
The failure of attempt one was really down to my complacency, and that knitting is really not like riding a bike. Although I could remember to peddle, I'd really forgotten how to steer. A number of weeks after receiving a tutorial from my teacher, I picked up my needles again with a vague idea of what I thought I needed to do. However, rather than knitting and purling every stitch as I was supposed to, I began to knit the white squares and purl the black. I soon realised that while half way across the page I still had more than two thirds of my knitting left on the needle. I'd obviously completely forgotten the premise of double knitting. This first attempt emphasised the need for regular practice.
Attempt 2:
In the second attempt I had re-established the ‘rules’ of double knitting with myself and was beginning to make progress with my technique. However, at this stage it was the pattern I found problematic. On every other line I was required to knit the opposite to what appeared on the page in front of me. This was a direct challenge to the relationship between perception and action, and even at this basic level I found myself having to constantly question and check what I was doing. This quickly led to me making a mistake.
I am aware that you can unpick your work, however, the challenge of now working alone meant that I had no one to refer to. Once again, I became aware that my ability, and in this case specifically my ability to problem solve, existed within a narrow plane of knowledge. While I knew how to proceed, I didn’t have a deep enough understanding of the knitted structure to go back. I’ve found that problem solving in knitting requires a certain amount of expertise. You need to understand not only how to follow and construct the pattern but also the internal structure of the object itself.
For me the only option was to use this opportunity to practice casting off and start again. The result of the second attempt can be found on the pin board. I noticed in this sample of my work, that while the QR code is a pattern of squares my knitting naturally produces a v shape. I referred back to the YouTube video which had confirmed my belief that this could be done. While each of his stitches also produce a v shape, I noticed that the stitches seemed much more defined and less loose than mine. I would need to knit more tightly on my third attempt.
Pattern & perception: attempt no. 3
In his study of British fine woodworkers Trevor Marchand refers to Marc Jeannerod’s theory of ‘simulated motor imagery’(Marchand, 2010:101), in which the craftsperson readies themselves to complete an action through a form of ‘mental rehearsal’ (ibid.). Our ability to achieve SMI is directly related visual perception (cite).In a learning environment, the novice achieves SMI by observing a more skilled individual. They relate what they see to their own body and attempt to replicate it, first mentally and then physically. I believe that following a pattern visually and then responding by inverting it physically disrupts this cognitive process. When checking the pattern, my brain naturally responds directly to the visual stimulus. For example, if the square is white, I will naturally mentally prepare, even if only momentarily, to knit a white square. However, half of my pattern requires that I do the opposite. Therefore, the process of SMI demands an additional act of cognition, which goes somewhat against the natural processes of the human brain.
I decided to redraw the pattern as it would be knitted, rather than as it would appear as the final product. The pace at which I was able to progress increased dramatically. As I had anticipated what had begun as ‘rules’ have become second nature. My specific and autonomous physical response to visual stimuli suggests an education of attention (Ingold, 2018), as well as the way I work at a tactile level with the wool. Due to previous experiences of skill development I expected that I would progress in this way, developing muscle memory which makes my movements easier, more fluid and natural. However, what surprised me about this project was my cognitive relationship to pattern and the challenge this presented in its physical realisation.
Having now completed the piece I am aware that it does not work. I am not at all surprised.
On comparing it to the original computer-generated version it is evident that the pattern seems to have come out in reverse. I was aware of this by the point I was roughly half way through. Again, this is another example of the limits of my problem-solving abilities due to my novice status, as I don’t understand the process in enough detail to decipher how this happened. I also made a few mistakes throughout, but the question was whether I valued the experience of completing the project over a suggestion that it might work when finished.
What was more important to me was the opportunity to explore an idea. I have found this project a useful way of tying together different strands of the discourse surrounding representing sensory information, perception in skill development and design anthropology.
Culture in Action was a public art project that took place across Chicago between 1992-1993. Eight simultaneous projects took place, involving communities and addressing social issues that the city faced. In 1993 a cumulative event took place, which exhibited the work done throughout the city. I believe that it could it be useful to understand this event in terms or Marcel Mauss' Total Social Fact, in order to understand how public art projects can bring together diverse aspects of the social milieu.
Community
Commerce
Public Housing
Cross cultural relations
Commerce
Technology
Performance
Community
Politics
Culture in Action as a total social fact
Feminism
Art
Education
Environment
Health care
Gang relations
Youth/social work
Agriculture
Fig. 8-16
References
BERNINI, M. 2014 Samuel Beckett's articulation of unceasing inner speech The Guardian(Available Online: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2014/aug/19/samuel-beckett-inner-speech-hearing-voices-edinburgh-international-book-festivalAccessed: 16 December 2018)
DORAN, S. 2014 Why music struck a chord with Beckett The Guardian (Available Online: https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2014/jul/31/why-music-struck-chord-beckettAccessed: 16 December 2018)
FELD, S. 2012 Sound and sentiment: birds, weeping, poetics and song in Kaluli expression Durham, NC: Duke University Press
INGOLD, T. 2018 Anthropology and/as education: anthropology, art, architecture and design
INGOLD, T. 2007 Lines: a brief history London: Routledge
INGOLD, T. 2000 The Perception of the Environment:essays on livelihood, dwelling and skillLondon: Routledge
JACKSON, S. 2009 Knit It Together: Patterns and Inspiration for Knitting Circles.Minneapolis: Voyageur Press.
MARCHAND, T. 2010 Embodied cognition and communication: studies with British fine woodworkers, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 6/1 100-120
POTTER, C. 2008 ‘Sense of Motion, Senses of Self: Becoming a Dancer’ Ethnos, 73/4 444-465
RULAND, G. B. 2010 Stitching Together: An Exploration of Women's Sociality Through an Urban Knitting Group. Thesis, Georgia State University, (Available Online: https://scholarworks.gsu.edu/anthro_theses/41Accessed: 16 December 2018)
SCHNEIDER, A. WRIGHT, C. 2010 Between art and anthropology: contemporary ethnographic practiceOxford: Berg Publishers
SPUYBROEK, L. (ed) 2011 Textile TectonicsRotterdam: NAi
STOLLER, P. 1989 The taste of ethnographic things: the senses in anthropologyPhiladelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press
YOUNG, D. 2011 Mutable things: colours as material practice in the northwest of South Australia
The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 17/ 2 pp.356-376
List of Figures
Fig. 1. marinchr 2010 [1973] "Not I" (Samuel Beckett) (Available Online: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4LDwfKxr-MAccessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 2. Juan Valencia 2017 The Knitted QR Code working (Available Online: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_EyxE6A7OkAccessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 3. Knitted Knockers: Changing Women's Lives Some heroes wear capes. Some, knit knockers. Odyssey (Available Online: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/knitted-knockersAccessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 4. Pereda, T. 2011 From Encounters with America Series (Available Online: https://alejandravonhartz.com/artist/pereda-teresa/Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 5 Pereda, T. 2011 Recolección en el salar: cita en JarumaTeresa Pereda(Available Online: http://www.teresapereda.comAccessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 6 Pereda, T. 2011 Teresa Pereda (Available Online: http://www.teresapereda.comAccessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 7 Ngintya Walka design from Ernabella National Museum Australia (Available Online: http://pd0xcomlb01-pubflt-a033.ccssc.gov.au/object/60001?object=46446&solrsort=random%20asc&f%5B0%5D=obj_type%3AAcrylic%20paintings&page=3Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 8 Full Circle (1992-1993)Suzanne Lacy (Available Online: http://www.suzannelacy.com/full-circle/Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 9 culture in action 3Cornerhouse Publications https://www.cornerhousepublications.org/publications/exhibition-as-social-intervention-ʻculture-in-actionʼ-1993/culture-in-action-3/ (Available Online: Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 10 culture in action 1Cornerhouse Publications (Available Online: https://www.cornerhousepublications.org/publications/exhibition-as-social-intervention-ʻculture-in-actionʼ-1993/culture-in-action-1/Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 11 HaHa Mary Jane Jacob, Never The Same (Available Online: https://never-the-same.org/interviews/mary-jane-jacob/ Accessed: 16 December 2018)
Fig. 12 Jacob, M.J. 1995 Naming Others: Manufacturing Yourself Culture in Actionp.99 Seattle: Bay Press
Fig. 13 Jacob, M.J. 1995 We Got It! Culture in Actionp.115 Seattle: Bay Press
Fig. 14 Jacob, M.J. 1995 Eminent Domain Culture in Actionp.122 Seattle: Bay Press
Fig. 15 Jacob, M.J. 1995 Consequences of a Gesture Culture in Actionp.134 Seattle: Bay Press