Tuomas A. Laitinen
“Haemocyanin”
UHD video, stereo sound, 8 minutes
Introduced by Filipa Ramos
Year: 2019
Soft arms and rigid tunnels, bendable limbs and transparent shapes, words that speak and languages that dance. In his visually striking video Haemocyanin, artist Tuomas A. Laitinen observes how an octopus interacts with a glass structure, entering its folds, exploring its interstices, inhabiting its transparent mass while having its body traversed by dynamic flows of letters and hieroglyphs.
Filipa Ramos: The title of your video, Haemocyanin, refers to the protein that transports oxygen in the bodies of octopuses. Why did you choose this term, which highlights a basic, physiological difference between vertebrates (including humans) and cephalopods?
Tuomas A. Laitinen: The process started already in 2014 when I was working on a project that was circling the mythical, environmental, and geopolitical effects of copper. A central drive of this research was the circulation of substances in various scales, and this eventually came up as an investigation on different blood types. As you pointed out, it turns out that instead of iron in haemoglobin, which, for instance, circulates in human bodies, octopuses have haemocyanin, which contains copper, making their blood blue. This grain of information acted as an incentive for a closer look and then slowly opened up a pathway to this particular work. The different material agency is critical here, as it cannot be divided from the ways in which an organism functions in an environment.
The act of naming the work happened through a long genealogy of research, from a concept that transmutes into something else, gradually conducted by a material that has also been so integral for human-built environment and technology. In some ways this process also unfolded shifts in modes of working. It allowed me to look critically at the clearly defined project-based model of production and explore it more as an organism that suggests new paths and continuums. A tentative/tentacular approach, perhaps?
In other words, this series of works emerged from a trajectory of intra-active and diffractive research (taking cues from the concepts of theorist Karen Barad), going toward layered ecosystems of knowledge, where matter and language exist in a constant symbiosis. The name is one layer in this entanglement.
FR: If it was your interest in copper that took you to the octopus, what led you to create the complex glass shapes that the octopuses in Haemocyanin interact with? How did you conceive the shapes? And how did the animals interact with them?
TL: I thought about the production process of the glass via extreme heat, gravity, and air as an intriguing parallel to the body type and movements of the octopus. The glass as an amorphous solid is fused with the octopus as a shapeshifting and colour changing lifeform that is not restrained by bones. The shape of the cooled down glass can be seen as one outcome from all the variables that were present at the time when it was extremely hot and still finding its way in a liquid form
Subsequently, in the video, the octopuses mould their highly adaptive body to the forms of the objects (if they were interested in the particular structure). This interaction happened through a learning process that related to each individual temperament. The shapes of the objects were informed by this observation. Each of them were made without a mould, in one go, so the production session ended up being very complex and precarious. The starting point was to create objects that would contain multiple overlapping layers and have several entries and exit points. Eventually, the aim is to bring these objects to a place where the octopuses could use them in their habitat.
There is another series of glass objects that I made in 2015 called “Sensory Adaptation Devices” which emerge from similar dilemmas. These are glass masks that humans can wear and which alter the way sensory input and output is organized, a kind of an augmented reality vision. The proposition here is leaning toward similar questions, but of course the challenge is that you never really know how it works when you approach other-than-human life: how do materials and technologies blend experiences, visions, or sensations and how the complex systems of neural activity respond to a stimulus in the environment.
From the series A Proposal for an Octopus, 2019
Glass objects
Courtesy of the artist and Helsinki Contemporary
Photos: Jussi Tiainen
FR: I'm fascinated by the difference of scale between the glass objects and the octopuses, it's as if either the glass sculptures are gigantic or the animals very small, so I'd like to ask you about the conditions in which you shoot the video. Did you make the glass objects having in mind these exact animals that you filmed? And considering how there are both general shots of the animals and also very detailed closeups, can you tell us about the filming process?
TL: The scale is based on a common species of octopus (Octopus vulgaris). I knew that most individuals of this species could use these structures. But I agree that it is interesting to think about the scale more relatively and flexibly since the octopus’ body is so adaptive that the idea of measurement/scale becomes fluid. They can squeeze in through a hole the size of their beak.
I am interested in how appearances, what seems to be seen through the glass and the lens, can be blurred. Certain types of glasses can refract and diffract information, and consequently, they can also warp the sense of scale. This is something that lurks to the surface when I think about how technologies connected to glass have changed the way the “natural” world is interpreted, for example, by the invention of the microscopic lens. In the video, these distortions are amplified by the CGI-material that is simulating the physical qualities of the glass. It distorts what is seen in the plane of the image. Perhaps this layering channels a possibility for a multiplicity of scales to coexist.
The filming process took a long time and many sessions that were not about filming at all, but just about communicating with the individual animals. I was gathering modules, both filmed and animated, along the path, let them simmer a bit and then eventually started to construct the timeline from the pieces.
Habitat Cascade, exhibition view, WAM, 2019
Photo: Ville Mäkilä/WAM
FR: You mention the additional layer of computer-generated material that is added to the underwater footage. Some of it is text in English, which can be understood, while other signs are in a hieroglyphic language that I could imagine to be that of the animals, communicating either among themselves or with us. Can you tell us more about the language inclusions in the video?
TL: The glyphs, a sort of a system for asemic writing, are based on research on octopus arm movement. This part was the first completed section of the work. The signs have been produced both as a typeface and glass objects that can be modularly utilized in installation structures. In a way, one could say that this part of the work is leaning toward science fiction, and the possibilities to create micro-narratives around the images. This line of thought is also present in the overlapping animations simulating a differential growth pattern. The sentences could be seen as fictional dossiers, and the asemic writing and the growing pattern are like a fluid and tentative sign system. It was also a way to think about the movements of the body as a language, as a complex system of emergence and adaptation, without collapsing into a binary mode where language and signs are separated from the processes of the body.
Credits
Haemocyanin, 2019
Courtesy of the artist and Helsinki Contemporary
Glass objects produced in Lasismi
Tuomas A. Laitinen
“Haemocyanin”
Introduced by Filipa Ramos
UHD video, stereo sound, 8 minutes
Year: 2019
Soft arms and rigid tunnels, bendable limbs and transparent shapes, words that speak and languages that dance. In his visually striking video Haemocyanin, artist Tuomas A. Laitinen observes how an octopus interacts with a glass structure, entering its folds, exploring its interstices, inhabiting its transparent mass while having its body traversed by dynamic flows of letters and hieroglyphs.
Filipa Ramos: The title of your video, Haemocyanin, refers to the protein that transports oxygen in the bodies of octopuses. Why did you choose this term, which highlights a basic, physiological difference between vertebrates (including humans) and cephalopods?
Tuomas A. Laitinen: The process started already in 2014 when I was working on a project that was circling the mythical, environmental, and geopolitical effects of copper. A central drive of this research was the circulation of substances in various scales, and this eventually came up as an investigation on different blood types. As you pointed out, it turns out that instead of iron in haemoglobin, which, for instance, circulates in human bodies, octopuses have haemocyanin, which contains copper, making their blood blue. This grain of information acted as an incentive for a closer look and then slowly opened up a pathway to this particular work. The different material agency is critical here, as it cannot be divided from the ways in which an organism functions in an environment.
The act of naming the work happened through a long genealogy of research, from a concept that transmutes into something else, gradually conducted by a material that has also been so integral for human-built environment and technology. In some ways this process also unfolded shifts in modes of working. It allowed me to look critically at the clearly defined project-based model of production and explore it more as an organism that suggests new paths and continuums. A tentative/tentacular approach, perhaps?
In other words, this series of works emerged from a trajectory of intra-active and diffractive research (taking cues from the concepts of theorist Karen Barad), going toward layered ecosystems of knowledge, where matter and language exist in a constant symbiosis. The name is one layer in this entanglement.
FR: If it was your interest in copper that took you to the octopus, what led you to create the complex glass shapes that the octopuses in Haemocyanin interact with? How did you conceive the shapes? And how did the animals interact with them?
TL: I thought about the production process of the glass via extreme heat, gravity, and air as an intriguing parallel to the body type and movements of the octopus. The glass as an amorphous solid is fused with the octopus as a shapeshifting and colour changing lifeform that is not restrained by bones. The shape of the cooled down glass can be seen as one outcome from all the variables that were present at the time when it was extremely hot and still finding its way in a liquid form
Subsequently, in the video, the octopuses mould their highly adaptive body to the forms of the objects (if they were interested in the particular structure). This interaction happened through a learning process that related to each individual temperament. The shapes of the objects were informed by this observation. Each of them were made without a mould, in one go, so the production session ended up being very complex and precarious. The starting point was to create objects that would contain multiple overlapping layers and have several entries and exit points. Eventually, the aim is to bring these objects to a place where the octopuses could use them in their habitat.
There is another series of glass objects that I made in 2015 called “Sensory Adaptation Devices” which emerge from similar dilemmas. These are glass masks that humans can wear and which alter the way sensory input and output is organized, a kind of an augmented reality vision. The proposition here is leaning toward similar questions, but of course the challenge is that you never really know how it works when you approach other-than-human life: how do materials and technologies blend experiences, visions, or sensations and how the complex systems of neural activity respond to a stimulus in the environment.
From the series A Proposal for an Octopus, 2019
Glass objects
Courtesy of the artist and Helsinki Contemporary
Photos: Jussi Tiainen
FR: I'm fascinated by the difference of scale between the glass objects and the octopuses, it's as if either the glass sculptures are gigantic or the animals very small, so I'd like to ask you about the conditions in which you shoot the video. Did you make the glass objects having in mind these exact animals that you filmed? And considering how there are both general shots of the animals and also very detailed closeups, can you tell us about the filming process?
TL: The scale is based on a common species of octopus (Octopus vulgaris). I knew that most individuals of this species could use these structures. But I agree that it is interesting to think about the scale more relatively and flexibly since the octopus’ body is so adaptive that the idea of measurement/scale becomes fluid. They can squeeze in through a hole the size of their beak.
I am interested in how appearances, what seems to be seen through the glass and the lens, can be blurred. Certain types of glasses can refract and diffract information, and consequently, they can also warp the sense of scale. This is something that lurks to the surface when I think about how technologies connected to glass have changed the way the “natural” world is interpreted, for example, by the invention of the microscopic lens. In the video, these distortions are amplified by the CGI-material that is simulating the physical qualities of the glass. It distorts what is seen in the plane of the image. Perhaps this layering channels a possibility for a multiplicity of scales to coexist.
The filming process took a long time and many sessions that were not about filming at all, but just about communicating with the individual animals. I was gathering modules, both filmed and animated, along the path, let them simmer a bit and then eventually started to construct the timeline from the pieces.
Habitat Cascade, exhibition view, WAM, 2019
Photo: Ville Mäkilä/WAM
FR: You mention the additional layer of computer-generated material that is added to the underwater footage. Some of it is text in English, which can be understood, while other signs are in a hieroglyphic language that I could imagine to be that of the animals, communicating either among themselves or with us. Can you tell us more about the language inclusions in the video?
TL: The glyphs, a sort of a system for asemic writing, are based on research on octopus arm movement. This part was the first completed section of the work. The signs have been produced both as a typeface and glass objects that can be modularly utilized in installation structures. In a way, one could say that this part of the work is leaning toward science fiction, and the possibilities to create micro-narratives around the images. This line of thought is also present in the overlapping animations simulating a differential growth pattern. The sentences could be seen as fictional dossiers, and the asemic writing and the growing pattern are like a fluid and tentative sign system. It was also a way to think about the movements of the body as a language, as a complex system of emergence and adaptation, without collapsing into a binary mode where language and signs are separated from the processes of the body.
Credits
Haemocyanin, 2019
Courtesy of the artist and Helsinki Contemporary
Glass objects produced in Lasismi