The Experiments

The Risk Facilitator

The Risk Facilitator is a suit of armour, made from cardboard. It is a tool designed to help me take risks by facilitating existing contexts and instigating new ones. It works at the point where the user would otherwise be unwilling to take a risk. It provides a synthetic form of courage as a layer of placebo-protection. It could be used in many different situation but I did have a specific intervention in mind: I’ve always felt uncomfortable and self aware dancing in public places, like at weddings and in nightclubs. With the armour I felt capable of dancing in a public space without too much concern.

The most public space that came to mind was Piccadilly Circus. This film shows my "performance":

Quantifying Risk

To make 'Risk' more tangible, I developed a Risk Quantifier to test different peoples attitudes towards risk. This was done with an aim to gauge general attitudes to risk and gain insight into the minds of those that take risks habitually.

The Risk Quantifier is a pair of goggles, converted to house a length of elastic material and a measuring tape. The elastic material can be pulled away from the forehead, measured with the tape, then released. Obviously, the greater the extension, the greater the sting as the elastic slaps into the forehead. Volunteers were asked how far they would be willing to extend the elastic for a chance to "win" a chocolate cake (All the particpants liked chocolate cake). Measuring the extension allows the risk to be quantified.

In a second experiment, heart readings were taken using an electro-cardiograph (recovered from a hospital skip) and a galvanic skin response kit was used as an indicator of stress. The results were perhaps suprising. There was a very strong correlation between attitude and gender. Anomalies to one side, males pursued risk, whilst females evaded them.

Hyper-Dermabrasion

Skin is a protective system like any other, so in theory undermining it would yield a wealth of experience value.

With this in mind I decided to remove the outer layer of skin - the epidermis - from my fingertips. I chose my fingertips, because they’re sensitive and commonly used for sensing through touch.

Belt sanding my skin off:

Agonising as it was, the skin had to come off somehow...

Sensations

Having removed the epidermis, my sensory nerve endings were exposed and hyper-sensitive. I had in advance collected 50 different objects to haptically re-experience:

Some objects have interesting textures, which become exaggerated - the material properties seem amplified. Others, through pressure, reveal new insight into the structure and density. Some objects contain chemicals that will react to the raw nerve endings, like salt, chilli peppers and alcohol. Temperatures appear more extreme: warmth is hotter, cool is colder. A greater sense of movement is conveyed, as pressure changes. Running my hand under a cold tap for example, I am acutely aware of the flow of the liquid around the shape of the fingertips. Some sensations are pleasant, others are very painful, but all are heightened and deliver more sensational experience.

By removing the skin, the act of feeling is completely recontextualised, transformed into a new ritual of exploration. Innocuous everyday items become provocative and exotic artefacts. A lemon, felt through new fingers, has a fascinating outer texture, an intriguing and malleable structure, and an intensely reactive chemical make-up.

Public Exposure

Exposures can be categorised by the same criteria as risks: for a physiological and socio-cultural exposure I decided to remove the protective layer of clothing in an outdoor communal space, exposing myself to the elements and the general public.

I should emphasise at this point that I genuinely am not an exhibitionist. This was one of the most humiliating situations I had ever been in, and even now, uploading this photos to the internet is similarly embarrassing. Still, it was definitely a memorable event, and provided me with plenty of information, sensation and emotion.

Sleeping in a Skip

Shelter is a somewhat fundamental protective system. I decided to reduce the protective layer of shelter to a minimal degree, and spent the night sleeping in a skip, in the road. This was a far greater experience than a regular night, sleeping in my own bed, in my own room, in my own house. The alien surroundings, the implicit need to keep a low profile, the sound of traffic and a very early sunrise all contributed to a bizarre and unique episode. [note - the skip did have a transparent tarp. over the top, not pictured.]

(Perhaps you recognise this skip? It was used extensively by Oliver Bishop Young in his exploration into skips as cultural artifacts.)

These experiments helped me to draw some valuable conclusions...

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