Ren Han investigates how she can draw by using flora and fauna as analogies for embodied experience and memory, such as metamorphosis, cloaking, and textural and metaphorical softness, through textiles. Throughout this year in particular, I would often stop by her studio to watch them weave, and spend a lot of time asking if I can feel the various fabrics and textiles in the studio. They have deep interests in these forms due to their background in science, which informs their artistic practice. This interview unfolded as they were contemplating how to hang some of their works. We start the conversation by discussing whether to hang from the ceiling or attach to the wall. This concern is central to their larger practice:
RH: I am exploring the idea of creating a sense of flight while still conveying the weight of gravity. My interest in deep sea creatures has led me to relate gravity to tension, both conceptually and as a physical, tactile experience. The image of sea creatures swimming and undulating in a gelatinous manner is particularly captivating to me.
IK: Like the gelatinous texture of a sea creature translating into fabric - what is that kind of process?
RH: I haven't quite figured that one out yet, but for me, I think it starts with a certain amount of tension in how I tufted the work. In the process of these pieces, the more I tuft in one area, the denser it becomes, creating ripples, waves, and natural curvatures, especially if I don't spread it out on the wall and pin it down.
IK: Yes, and that is what you are trying to mediate as you are hanging this work.
RH: At this point, I'm trying to think about installation in a way that will serve the work instead of having it be like a pinned specimen.
IK: How much does your relationship with the material you are working with influence your approach?
RH: When I'm spinning yarn, it feels very much like pushing around clay or molding it in many ways. Depending on how you spin the yarn, it can be thicker or thinner. This process is heavily influenced by tactile conditioning. I believe that the final work can be seen in slightly different ways for this exact reason.
Even as we consider how to display their work, the artist expresses their desire to avoid pinning it in order to prevent a fixed, rigid interpretation due to the associations with pinned specimens. After careful thought and a series of experiments, they decided to hang the artwork Lepidoptera: Cleave (2024) in mid-air. As mentioned by the artist, the crimson wool in the piece forms graceful curves and waves, giving it a fluid and organic presence in the industrial exhibition space.
IK: There is a bodily sense to all of these larger works. Lepidoptera looks like a tissue or a muscle, alive in its own way.
RH: The sculptures ended up resembling a body because of their scale. Instead of considering them as clothing, I'm more interested in the idea of them being part of an embodied experience. There's an additive process, a subtractive process, and weaving circles in relation to the body. They start off as my body because they happen to be exactly my wingspan and my height. I'm starting to use the word "cyclical" more in my thesis, referring to natural cycles, coping mechanisms, and trauma cycles. This concept is less visual in the work but has been something I've thought about and continue to think about.
IK: I really appreciate that concept. It's interesting how something that isn't visually present can still have a significant impact on the creative process. It's a unique and intriguing aspect to consider.
RH: Yeah, I think it mimics how I live through life in general. I'm not always thinking about these concepts, but they have shaped who I am as a person and how I react to situations. As a psychology major with a scientific background, I'm always thinking about the analytical side of things. There's this detachment sometimes between how the work looks visually and what I'm actually thinking about, which I feel is pretty accurate, honestly.
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