Method, processes and materials

Why I chose to do external research into the materiality of Silk:

 

Silk allows me to rip the spinal cord of numbers from my understanding of time in my research:

 

"One of the things that has always bothered me about the processing of time is how it boils down to numbers—cold, linear, sterile data points. I’ve always thought that this is antithetical to the true nature of time, which is emotional and elastic" (Ng, n.d.).

-Dawn Ng

 

In my opinion, time can speed up and slow down according to our mood. Time even seems to stand still when we are in love. Hence, in unit two, as I conscientiously searched for mediums which would allow me to express this. I thought to myself can I give color, shape and form? What color is 5pm vs 8pm? What structural mass does time have. This led me to explore ephemeral objects, and I found my answer in silk.

 

In Unit 1, I delved into the significance of silk as a fabric, intrigued by its texture and cultural importance.

 

However, it was during Unit 2 that I chanced upon the intricate production process of silk, a discovery that sparked a profound resonance within me about the fragility of human experience, time, memory, and the ephemeral. The cyclical journey of silk production—from the diligent labor of silkworms to the meticulous craftsmanship involved—captivated my imagination. It was during this time that I began collaborating with a silk farmer for external research.

 

In the production of silk, the silkworm takes center stage, a tragic hero in the grand theater of life, its existence intricately woven with the threads of time and destiny. From the humble beginnings of its birth to the wistful end, every moment is dedicated to the art of silk weaving, each thread spun with the silent requiem of passing time (Meng, Zhu and Chen, 2017). Yet, amidst its laborious toil, there lies a melancholic truth: after laying eggs, its final bow on life's stage, it succumbs to fate's gentle embrace. For the males, death arrives even more swiftly, a fleeting moment in the eternal dance of existence. Thus, in its poignant sacrifice, the silkworm embodies the bittersweet melody of time, memory, and the ephemeral (Meng, Zhu and Chen, 2017). This profound cycle of life and death allows me to use silk as a creation medium to capture the fragility of human experience while exploring the cyclical nature of time, memory, and ephemera. If you think about it, the moment you are born, you begin to die. The process of silk production yields to this law of nature, revealing the inherent beauty in death that overlaps with the cyclicality of time—a constant reminder of life's perpetual disappearance and transformation (OpenAI ChatGPT, 2024).

 

Also, in the culmination of a silkworm's existence, all that remains are delicate threads of silk, a testament to its singular purpose and transient journey. In a parallel reflection, humans too leave behind traces as we navigate the intricate tapestry of life. Much like the fragile strands of silk, our footprints upon the earth are ephemeral imprints, echoing the passage of time, the unreliability of memory and the fragility of human experience. As we traverse the vast expanse of existence, we weave our own narrative with each fleeting moment, leaving behind a mosaic of memories and impressions to form the fabric of life. This shared journey underscores the fragile essence of human existence, encompassing the emotional, psychological, and physical realms of life. Moreover, this reflection on the cyclical nature of life is further emphasized by the silkworm's journey. Before the silkworm dies, it lays eggs, initiating a new cycle of life and regeneration (Meng, Zhu and Chen, 2017). This cyclical pattern mirrors the broader cycles of existence, where life and death intertwine in an eternal dance of renewal. Hence, the various forms of silk (elaborated below) becomes a medium for me to articulate time, or the passage of time.

 

I also see similarities between the process of capturing intimate moments in life , and the process of cocooning. Just as the silkworm undergoes metamorphosis within its cocoon, these moments of introspection and self-discovery serve as catalysts for personal growth and transformation. In these sacred spaces of reflection, we confront our deepest fears,  and emerge reborn, much like the silkworm emerging from its cocoon as a moth.

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One afternoon, I found myself in an enlightening conversation with the silkworm farmer I had been working with. We had been discussing the intricacies of silk production, and I marveled at the dedication with which the silkworms labored to create such delicate threads. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "silk production is not just about numbers and measurements. It holds within it the wisdom of ages, the essence of life itself." Intrigued, I leaned in closer, eager to hear more. The farmer began to share his insights, drawing parallels between silk production and the timeless philosophies of Taoism, and Buddhism. As he spoke, I felt a profound sense of connection to these ancient teachings, despite not being particularly religious. 

 

In Taoism, he explained, silk production mirrors the natural order, echoing Lao Tzu's wisdom that "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." Here, time flows in harmony with nature's rhythms, much like the gradual yet purposeful creation of silk by the silkworm. Taoist principles of wu wei, or "effortless action," further underscored the instinctual spinning of cocoons, aligning with the natural cyclical flow of life or time. The idea that silkworms dedicate their entire lives to silk production, which is a cyclical process, can be a powerful metaphor for exploring the themes of time, memory, the ephemeral, and the fragility of human experience.The cyclical pattern he described underscored the impermanence of existence, inviting self-reflection on the fleeting nature of life's moments. "However," he continued,  "in the 30 years that I have been raising silkworms, I have gradually come to understand their existence and the existence of the one who exists. I say that a single silkworm thread represents the existence and the silkworm the one who exists," he murmured, his words carrying the weight of decades of contemplation. "Just as when a person comes into this world, they leave behind a trace like a silkworm's's silk."

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Similarly, Buddhist philosophy underscores the impermanent nature of silk production, echoing the concept of anicca, or impermanence. The Buddha's teachings affirm that "All conditioned things are impermanent," reflecting the fleeting yet essential aspects of the silkworm's life and the creation of silk (BBC, n.d.). Together, these philosophical perspectives illuminate silk production as a profound metaphor for the fragility of human experience and the passage of time. Through the intricate process of silk production, we are confronted with the interconnectedness of all things and the transient nature of existence. Silk becomes more than a material commodity; it becomes a symbol of life's impermanence and the enduring legacy of human memory. Thus, the exploration of silk production rip the spinal cord of numbers from my understanding of time, allowing me to contemplate the timeless mysteries of the universe.

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*** my Chinese is not exactly what I would call good. The above conversation is translated from Chinese to English with the help of ChatGPT (OpenAI ChatGPT, 2024). My own input is sprinkled in between.