Every time I set foot in a thrift shop I tend to find pair or two of used scissors. My attraction to them is not need-based as most of them don't even cut well. I'm collecting them as objects with a past usefulness, handled and worn--a universal tool. My box of scissors has filled over the years and a couple months ago I decided to utilize them in a new project.
I'm taking each scissor and binding it tightly with strips of old sari cloth. I chose this material as my paternal family history is tightly bound to the country of India. As the scissors are wrapped they are rendered useless. Only the form remains as a recognizable symbol of its past use. They are now a simple object, a fetish that resembles the phallus. After the scissor is wound with cloth I hand stitch it to prevent unraveling and to lend the tactile nature of sutures to the castrated tool. The scissor is now secure in its mummified form. It has become a phallic symbol of life--scarred yet potent.
This is only the beginning. I continue to pick up scissors and add them to the box with others waiting for a new skin. Since sharing the project on social media I've received more scissors from around the country. A big thank you to everyone who has sent me a pair or two or more! One day I intend to exhibit these fetishes as a collection but for now I will continue to bind a pair a day.
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