In one ear - Kete Brettkelly-Chalmers

During the early 1980s in New York, German artist Isa Genzken made a series of photographs of women’s ears. The photos consist of close-up shots of an ear; almost-portraits where just enough information is given – the odd shape of a lobe, the style of hair or earring – to be suggestive of the person it belonged to. They have what has been described as an ‘intimate quality’, a phrase which sits in contrast with the fact that Genzken’s ear models were, apart from their brief photographic encounter, unknown to her; she approached them while walking the streets of Manhattan and simply asked for a photograph of their ear. According to Genzken, none refused or were uncomfortable with this unusual request.

It is conceivable that this encounter was in fact an instance of unconventional trade, where the image of a stranger becomes an item of exchange. However, because of the peculiarity of Genzken’s request, a condition of uncertainty surrounds this trade initiative. There is a lack of firm etiquette or procedure – apart from the niceties of polite conversation – that would serve the efficacy of exchange.

I often swap or trade succulent plants with my friends. This is an enjoyable, straightforward and easy exchange. Succulents grow profusely in Auckland so we never want for trade material and this process gives us occasion to grow our little plant collections, share strange hybrids, pass on great varieties, and get excited about unusual finds. My latest, a very flat, round plant known as the ‘Saucer Succulent’, is pertinent to this discussion in that it reminds me of tea drinking with its specific manners and trades of conversation.

Another relevant variety, the ‘Velvet Elephant Ear’, a large plant with soft and furry grey leaves, was found at a market stall on a visit to Melbourne. This was a trading opportunity lost; back in Auckland, New Zealand Customs would never have allowed foreign flora past the baggage terminal. However, I do wish I could have taken some of these varieties home, potted them up and waited for a few offshoots to grow. They would’ve become great and unusual trading pieces in our own casual succulent market. The exchanges here are informal affairs that involve an unspoken etiquette of simple sharing – the goods exchanged are of equal value, no party is left owing and the trade is beneficial to all.

This differs from Genzken’s pedestrian exchanges where such etiquette is sufficiently vague to be non-existent and where the articles of trade are equally indistinct. Unlike a simple aloe cutting, there are few stand-alone pieces and their value is not easily assessed. What prompted Genzken’s pedestrians, her passers-by, to turn their heads and reveal an ear to a stranger’s camera? What is given in return for the image of an ear can be speculated upon – the fun of engaging in an act of curiosity perhaps, participating in the workings of an artist maybe – but this is not clear. Nevertheless, the uncertainty described did not seem to afflict these trading encounters; I entertain the idea that such uncertainty served as an encouraging quality. From the artist’s account, the exchanges appear effortless, successful, and perhaps, like my succulent swaps, even a little delightful to those involved.

It has been said that the ear is the most open organ, the one the infant cannot close . I am interested in the ear, not only as the subject of Genzken’s photos and an article of trade, but also as a motif traceable in the motions of exchange. It is argued in The Ear of the Other that we engage in understanding – whether it is of a piece of writing, the etiquette of exchange or the perfect growing conditions for plants – at the level of the ear. It is the ear, with its inherent openness, not the eye or the voice, that represents our capacity to make interpretations, to receive differences and to attempt translations. These aspects figure a great deal in trading encounters and moments of exchange.

In an activity that involves and savours the constant negotiation of differences, a good listener can be invaluable. I am however, suitably reminded by my trading partner in this exercise that a bad listener can be valuable too:

“While trying to attract some of the native birds outside, only a whistle and a click of the tongue will suffice. I suppose they might think they misheard me, and my curious phrases. They would take up the bread (or the puha if the family budgie). In exchange they might whistle back, or not fly away. Or give me a look that made me feel like we had come to some sort of understanding – like we were indeed negotiating.”

Perhaps at this point of exchange, with a look of recognition, a flicker of almost understanding between parties, a keen ear (not necessarily a good one) can be helpful. If we seek the ear of another, if we wish to be heard in order to have our subjectivity confirmed, then the ear is significant as an agent. Because of its ability to receive differences, the ear brokers and negotiates a link from the internal self to our external environment and represents how we attempt to relate to each other as subjects.

I suggest that an inkling of this, a confirmation sought of the self from another, is at play within the success and delightfulness of Genzken’s pedestrian encounters. If one were to mention the curious ability that plants have to communicate with us, it may also be suggested that the ear plays a large part in my succulent trades too. Perhaps this is the case with the failed trade opportunity of the ‘Velvet Elephant Ear’ and other Melburnian varieties – their whisperings are all I am left with. Nevertheless, I can imagine that in these and many other instances of trade, successful or not, just the process of exchange itself is sweeter and more fruitful than the matter received.

¹ Ear Series (1980) – a collection of large-scale prints in which the subject, a single ear, fills the frame.
² P. Lee, (2003) The Skyscraper at Ear Level (Parkett, 69, p79)
³ J. Derrida, Ronell, A. (trans.) (1982) All Ears: Nietzsche's Otobiography (Yale French Studies, 63, pp.245-250)
⁴ J. Derrida The Ear of the Other (University Nebraska Press, Lincoln and London, 1988)
⁵ From the ‘exquisite corpse’ writing made prior to this article – the excerpt is Chloe Lane’s.
6 The idea that plants can communicate with and relate to humans has been noted in Tahi Moore’s article in Crease Issue 4. It is in reference to The Secret Life of Plants by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird (Harper and Row, New York, 1973)

Right - Sarah Gruiters , Piece, 2006