Text and images by Eleanor Lee-Duncan
Copacetic, which ran at Thistle Hall from the 9th â 13th of February, is Kirsten Ruchâs first solo exhibition in Wellington. The word âcopaceticâ is both uncommon and of uncertain origin: Ruch defines it as âcommon, average, cool; as it should beâ, linking it back to a Cajun French phrase describing the ability âto cope with anything and everythingâ, and to a slang phrase for âthe final cutâ. Ruchâs attitude towards art encompasses both these elements. When she creates art, she feels in control of her life and that âeverything will work outâ; on the other hand, when she hangs the finished work, âthe creative effort has come to an endâ and she must relinquish her control at the final cut.1
Copacetic, installation view at Thistle Hall, Wellington
Ruchâs sculptures hang from the wall, assembled from leather, human hair, and cotton thread (one work incorporates wool). The worksâ earthy tones are interrupted by a single burst of colour in the sculpture My dad was an alchemist, which features a bright tartan-like grid of precisely painted lines in acrylic on purple leather. All her sculptures attest to the same technically precise, high standard of work, with each piece painstakingly constructed using an old hand-turned sewing machine. The artist chose the antique Singer partly for its status as a traditionally âfemaleâ domestic tool, but also for its link with Ruchâs heritage â her grandmother, Classina van der Meijden, was a tailor.2
Kirsten Ruch, âMy dad was an alchemistâ, 2016
Ruch deliberately selected natural rather than man-made materials for use in her artwork. However,during the creative process she became aware of the sheer quantity of water and chemicals needed to tan leather. In future she intends to try working with wood, as a more environmentally-friendly medium.3
Details of Kirsten Ruchâs âMy dad was a performance artistâ and âIt spiralsâ, 2016.
I was absolutely fascinated by the use of hair in Ruchâs works. Unlike Cat Auburnâs well-known work, The horses stayed behind, in which horse hair is twisted with wire into intricate rosettes, Ruch treats her hair as, well, hair. The human hair is combed, divided into four strands and plaited, after which the braid is hung emerging from within the geometric leather structures. Viewers are encouraged to touch the plaits and feel their very human tactility, the silkiness of these mystery peopleâs hair.
Kirsten Ruch, âPony tail No. 3âČ, 2015
Disembodied and displayed in a gallery context, the hair provokes questions as to its source. Ruch purchased the hair online, from a website selling hair extensions which gave no information about their origin. When integrated in Ruchâs art works, it seems almost as if the original wearer has been enveloped within the faceted forms, deep inside the wall. The individual strands of hair are thick, as you would expect from black hair, but their colours range from black through to brunette, blonde, and a faint, washed out pastel pink. With the exception of one black braid, each strand of hair â even the mousy brown ones â has been bleached and then dyed, so that no trace of the original colour unique to its owner/grower remains. Dyeing the hair in bulk ensures consistency of product: when Ruch purchased the hair, it was sold by strict colour lot numbers.4 The hair â a naturally sourced material in appearance â is as far removed from nature as the high sheen, peach-coloured patent leather used in Bird by bird.
Kirsten Ruch, âBird by birdâ, 2015, and detail
Since the hair industry is largely unregulated, it remains open to the exploitation of growers. As the Guardian puts it, âwith the exception of a handful of businesses . . . most hair comes from countries where long, natural hair remains a badge of beauty â but where the women are poor enough to consider selling a treasured assetâ.5 Ruch sympathizes with the individuals whose hair she now possesses. At different points in her own life, she too has parted with or sold things which were precious to her â but she also acknowledges how much more limited these unseen women might have been in their choices. Hair extensions are sourced internationally and are difficult to trace, but most come from China, Brazil, India, Malaysia, and Russia, and the growersâ motivations and situations in life can only be guessed at.
Kirsten Ruch at Thistle Hall Gallery.
In Kirsten Ruchâs personal experience, art must âbe in the everyday, in our homes and in our livesâ.6 Her family is a central point in her life, and many of her titles recall relationships or specific memories with them, such as Fold here Mum, and My dad was a performance artist. In her leather works, Ruch uses the base pattern shape of a triangle, which for her symbolises the three-part bond between two parents and a child. The disembodied hair, untraceable in origin, becomes part of Ruchâs domestic life â brushed, arranged, and plaited â an artistic ritual in another home.
References
1. Ruch, Kirsten, âCopaceticâ, Exhibition price sheet, Thistle Hall, Wellington, February 2016.
2. Ruch, Kirsten, interview with author, 9th February 2016.
3. Ruch, Kirsten, interview with author, 10th February 2016.
4. Ibid.
5. Khaleeli, Homa, âThe hair tradeâs dirty secretâ, 2012 (http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/oct/28/hair-extension-global-trade-secrets accessed 10th February 2016)
6. Ruch, 2016.
Dedicated to the fantastic Michael Boyes (1991-15 February 2016), who made art alive. As a loved friend and fellow student of mine, and of many of the other writers here at Up and Adam, you will be, and are, deeply missed.
