Anicka Yi in "Bodies of Knowledge" - Season 11 | Art21

-[Anicka VO] Humans have
a fear of impermanence.

We go against nature to try
to preserve and stabilize and

control something that
resists all of that.

In around 2010, I started
deep-frying flowers and plants.

This very clunky batter

is almost masking and
destroying the flower itself,

and then you subject them
to 300-degree hot oil.

♪♪♪

The visual aspects of it was
definitely something that I was

aiming for, but the odor of,
like, french fries [laughs]

of an artwork or something, that
was very much compelling me to,

you know, fry up
a batch of these.

♪pensive synth music♪

There's always been an
incredible vulnerable aspect to

my work.

Many of my works use this
element of deterioration and

perishable materials.

♪♪♪

I'm interested in the kind of
mutations that can take place in

these changes.

I work with living creatures,

ultrasound gel,

bacteria,

algae,

kelp,

and soap.

-[Anicka] Looks so good.

Oh my gosh, I
forgot all about this.

Wow, it's like seeing the
piece for the first time again.

It's really good.

There is such a sensual
quality to this soap.

The thing that really keeps
haunting me is this glowing,

floating
underwater kind of quality.

And it's really
hard to do, you know?

-Because resin doesn't do it...

-[Esther] Right.

-[Anicka] Acrylic
doesn't do it...

-[Esther] Right.

-And as problematic
and volatile as it is,

I'm trying to retain
and capture that quality.

I can tell you what
to anticipate is that,

because glycerin is a humectant,
it will just over time slowly

shrink a little.

-[Esther] And so that's okay?

-If you get dents
and cuts and gashes,

that's fine; it's not intended
to be pristine and perfect.

♪ethereal
oscillating synths♪

-[Anicka VO] I'm quite
omnivorous in the areas and

disciplines where I draw from.

Before it's even a
fully-fleshed idea,

I start small
trials in the studio,

much like you would
do in a laboratory.

As the trials
start to bear fruit,

we bring in the
experts to help us,

whether it's a software
engineer or a forensic chemist

or a perfumer.

I look to the natural
sciences, synthetic sciences,

artificial
intelligence research.

That seems like a very
maximalist approach,

but I think that we can't really
discount how we are influenced

by all of these
different systems and ideas

and information.

-[Anicka] I just want to
climb up on these hills...

-[man] [chuckles]

-[Anicka] And just
enter into the screen,

-and go into the drawing.

-[man] Yeah.

-How can I translate that
then into the outer world --

that feeling of wanting
to climb up these hills?

'Cause that's what these
anemone panels do for me.

-Yeah.

-You know, that
rolling, undulating feeling.

-Yeah.

-But then, when we were talking
about more of a kind of a...

Maybe-- I don't know, maybe we
need to think about something

more immersive.

♪upbeat bouncing synths♪

-[Anicka VO] We have a very
limited imagination when it

comes to machines.

We have a lot of anxiety
that they will replace us.

But what if we could relate to
them in a more optimistic way?

♪♪♪

I really wanted to
merge the biosphere

with the technosphere.

I consulted software
engineers, molecular biologists

to create what I
called "aerobes."

I was inspired by
the comb jellyfish,

the lion's mane mushroom...

The machines respond
and detect one another

through high
frequency radio waves.

And they're able to detect
heat signatures of visitors.

Some aerobes are
curious about the visitors,

while some are more shy.

It was really important for me
that they were unpredictable,

and that they had space and
time for their own evolution.

You know that
they're mechanical,

and yet they feel
palpably alive.

♪uplifting ethereal music♪

It inspires a
feeling of awe and calm,

like you're swimming
next to a humpback whale.

I'm always surprised how
much power that they had

to quell a lot of anxiety.

With these aerobes,
I, too, get to inhabit

this space of wonder.

-[woman VO] Another kind of
trace is formidably encapsulated

by the French word "sillage."

It means "the degree to which a
perfume's fragrance lingers in

the air when worn."

So in a way, an organism's
sillage is a living presence

sensed even in the
absence of a body or an author.

-Oh, yeah.

This is the bullfrog.

-[woman] [laughs]

-That is very animal.

-It's like boggy, frog...

-Mm-hm.

-Swampy.

-[woman] Very swampy.

-One of the earliest forms
of inquiries in my research

is how we relate to smell, how
it informs what I would call

"the biopolitics of our senses."

I grew up in a
very pungent home,

and was very keenly and acutely
aware of how smell does start to

create these forms of identity
around these

invisible scent molecules.

♪ethereal piano music♪

In the Western world, we really
tend to reject very pungent

odors as a
sign of weakness,

as a sign of
being more animal.

We have left those odors behind
us to a perfectly-sanitized

world where we control what we
can smell and what we can't,

and that is an impossible
approach to existence.

I had an exhibition in Milan,
and I worked with a French

artist and perfumer,
Christophe Laudamiel.

One of the central
series are two dryer doors

with two different scents.

One dryer door had
a bullfrog aroma.

The other
contained this broomstick,

sort of cardboard
sweeping-away aroma

after everything has been
packed up in your home,

getting ready to
evacuate a space that holds

a lot of memories

of love and
sadness and despair.

It really is about memory, but
also forgetting and letting go.

♪bittersweet string music♪

I always straddle this
awkward line between

perishability and
non-perishability.

We look to art as a
form of preservation,

as a statement on
our civilization,

on our species.

And yet, you can't have
monumentality without

recognizing the
embedded vulnerability around

monumentality.

My work deals a lot with
what it means that things are

perpetually
blossoming and decaying.

Change is the most constant
form that we can acknowledge

and embrace.

♪ ethereal ambient music ♪