P A I N S H A R E D,

P A I N D I L U T E D.
Daniela Triana
 A B S T R A C T

Some of us human beings tend to look strong,

invincible and untouchable, forgetting we are
fragile, ephemeral and sensitive not only to love,
but also to pain. Sometimes, selfishness leads us to
forget to feel compassion, empathy and to give
little importance to the pain of others, that kind
of pain one that is not easily seen but it’s felt
... strongly.

This project is a personal search of a language

suitable to approach the mourners by suicide,
through a textile body piece that represents the
muffled voice of a group of mothers who have lost
their children to suicide.
It is a process of absolute awareness, when making
an immersion in the strange and mysterious world of
pain during a suicide grief, to which (as a large
part of society) I was afraid, but decided to face
my fear and grow with the experience.

At the beginning of the project my inability to face

the issue was based on the fear of hurting the
mourners by reviving their memories and their pain.
however, I never considered that I should have felt
fear of being hurt by the pain of others.
Finally, I recognized that compassion and empathy
can be achieved in such situation, because the
strong impact for those who know such devastating
stories in depth, causes commotion and changes their
life.

The testimony of the experience is summarized in the

description of four aesthetic scenarios captured in
moodboards, accompanied by personal diary entries
that allow the understanding of sensations,
feelings and evolution of the experience in a visual
and emotional way.
The body assumes an important role in the
description of the scenarios, because i can only
describe the impact of the subject, as something I
felt in my own skin.
 INVESTIGATION When everything seems to
have taken its course,
the serenity becomes a
The four scenarios approached for the project arise silence that stuns and A process of adaptation
from a group meeting of the “Lazos (Bonds) returns the mind to a to the new surfaces of
Foundation”, with mothers who have lost their dark place, which the skin. Take
children to suicide. gradually brings the everything that the
body closer to its environment offers, join
It is the visual representation of the transition initial state of and grow with it.
between the four scenarios that summarize my torture.
experience as someone who has not been involved in
grief due to suicide, someone who is confronted for
the first time with a subject of such magnitude.
It is a state of art compilation, which allows the
emergence of a series of concepts that give clarity
to the emotional phases on which the results of the
project are based.

Layers of skin that seem

to sprout to the surface
and fall apart. The body
loses its shape,
subjected to a process of
decay that transforms
An innocent body that the skin into a new
leaps into the unknown surface ..
without fear of being An environment that
hurt, colliding with a seems to absorb
tortuous reality that everything that happens
wilts its delicacy and next to it. It adheres to
floods all its skin with the skin as a new layer
a thick black ink. of tissue that envelops
There are only the traces the body between its
of that innocence, which volume.
springs to the surface in
the midst of a struggle
to survive this dark
immensity.

The body adapts to a new

state, to a new skin. It
builds its tissues from
the remains of its former
surface, closing and
cauterizing the wounds
that do not disappear,
but are transformed.
In the midst of the
struggle not to
suffocate in the thick
tangle of the
environment, the body
continues looking for a
refuge to stay and An environment that
appease its pain. seems to absorb
The stillness, the everything that happens
overwhelming silence and next to it. It adheres to
fear, tear and mark every the skin as a new layer
inch of skin in its path. of tissue that envelops
the body between its * R e f e r e n c e s :
https://co.pinterest.com/danitrianam/proyec
volume. to-de-grado/
FIRST SCENARIO
T H E
My first memory is cruelly
summarized to a corrosive
feeling of miserableness,
feeling that i was feeding my
body and my curiosity with
someone else’s pain, a pain
that I have never felt in my own
flesh and hopefully i’ll never
get to feel. In my head the word
parasite repeats again and
again .. the first word that
came to my mind when facing a
situation of such magnitude.
Immediately I remember a pair
of penetrating eyes, a look
full of anger and resentment
while I repeat in my head the
questions that attacked me and
had such a heavy burden ...
"Why didn’t you look for some
addicts? Why us ?! ... as if I
had chosen them for an
experiment, the most cruel of
all, achieving the only
objective that I swore to never
propose, and I pleaded never to
achieve: to relive their pain
in the most carnal way within
them, to allow me to feel, and
then understand.
I stop and think why the only
direction towards my eyes
looked and now my memories are
directed, is a mother hurt by
the loss of her son, a woman who
struggles to survive amidst the
cruel reality of a world
lacking meaning, and reasons to
move forward. How did you feel?
They ask me repeatedly as I
struggle to erase from my
memory that suffocating feeling
of claustrophobia, which made
me feel miserable, it turned me
into crumbs, it rebuilt me, and
in one fell swoop it destroyed
me again.
A bone-penetrating fear that
A R R I V A L O F P A I N
clouded my mind and aroused my
then almost nonexistent sense
of self-preservation, which
convulsed, disoriented and
disappeared into an immensity
laden with dark water, which
flooded every corner of my body
and my existence.
My skin was being tortured,
burned and cut into slices,
while I tried to maintain with
courage a stare and challenging
gaze, an erect body that was
consumed and imploded,
demolishing as it passed to the
last trace of my insides.
My ears seemed deaf to any
reassuring comment, like a kind
of empty masochism that forced
me to concentrate on the main
source of pain, submitting to a
fight against myself, trying to
take control over my body while
the overflowing emotions shook
every corner of my being.
Today, I continue circling the
subject, to an encounter so
ephemeral in my life, and at
the same time so permanent.
Today I recognize that my bets
were always in favor of reason,
seeking to protect my emotions,
and the soft surfaces that lie
innocently under the strong
shell of concrete that I expose
to the outside world.
Today I recognize the high
demands of an unnecessary
strength, and my mistake in
thinking that I was an
untouchable, indestructible
being.
Today I find the meaning in the
words that curiously sprout in
my memory at the most opportune
moment: To overcome myself was
my most important victory.
“take control over my body while the
overflowing emotions shook every
corner of my being”

“feeling that i was feeding my body

and my curiosity with someone else’s
pain, a pain that I have never felt
in my own flesh and I hope never get
to feel”
“Try to dive at the bottom of his
death, to shake the impounded water
, seeking, not the truth, that does
not exist, but that the faces he
had in life appear in the
vacillating reflections of the dark
surface”
- Bonnett, Piedad

“as if he had wrapped everything in a small

dirty box that he gave me to clean in the
upcoming decades"
SECOND SCENARIO
T H E E T E R N A L S T U P O R

The most raw and alive feeling hundreds of threads that pulled
of defeat returns to my mind; the most sensitive areas of my
Surrender was the way to skin.
survive such an overwhelming I think of the immutable moment
experience. The weight of my in which I recognized an exit
own body, of my own skin, from the state of confusion.
neutralized my reflexes and led After a flood of patience,
me to a state of perpetual understanding, and empathy, I
immobility, which adhered to my achieved a reflective level
gloomy surroundings, and made that led me to a new state of
me become part of it. understanding.
Feeling like a superficially Why should I reject that weight
inanimate object that can not that immobilized me? In the end
sustain its own weight, led me that load did belong to me, it
to the absolute abandonment of was part of my new being: a
the fight, as the few remaining sensitive, delicate being that
lights of courage and the is capable of feeling, or more
slightest expressions of accurately, that is not afraid
tenacity were crushed. to feel.
Every hit received seemed not My body, upon receiving such a
to change me; the exhaustion strong hit, was driven to a
led me to sharpen my senses, to state of swelling; It could
limit myself to having two eyes only recover its freedom, its
wide open that fought not to movement, after a prolonged
cry, two ears that echoed with state of physical rest, that
every poisoned word, and a skin shaped my new figure and gave
deformed by the incidence of a me a new meaning.
weight for which I was never
prepared.
I remember feeling wrapped up
in my own flesh, so vulnerable,
so sensitive. I tried in a
thousand ways to give a sense
to that ballast that did not
correspond to me, by wandering
aimlessly within my own being.
They were meaningless journeys,
which led me to the starting
point without finding escape
routes that would take me out
of the complete stupor.
I felt a strong impotence, a
constant desperation to free
myself of that burden that
imprisoned me against the chair
in which I rested; a chair that
seemed to hold the deformed
remains of my body, held by
“someday I will find a slice of myself...
and I will grow”
 “two ears that echoed with every
poisoned word, and a skin deformed by
the incidence of a weight for which I
was never prepared”

the pain is just below the

surface waiting to come out
THIRD SCENARIO
V I S I B L E M A N I F E S T A T I O N
O F P A I N

I think of the hopeful against the stream and look for

reflection of the sun in the a safe place on the surface,
window, and the small rays of finding someone who could hold
light that struggled to enter my hand, take me out of the
the room to illuminate that water, and free me from the
gloomy atmosphere covered with pain.
intense pain. In a way it In a certain way I felt a
relieved to know that outside clarity that I did not expect
of that room there was a to achieve, sharpening my ears
different world, to which i was and preparing them to be in
used to. A world to which I synchrony with the speech,
would not return in the same achieving the empathy that in
way I left. that moment I understood, both
What remained of such a the grieving women and I fought
devastating experience was a to conquer.
wound in its crudest stage of It was a complex process of
healing, a strong visible resilience, which today I refer
bruise on the skin. An extended to as my scar. In this case a
hematoma, beyond its supposed voluntary scar, a permanent
initial duration. It was a mark on the body that I decided
visible manifestation of the to have. A mark that reminds me
pain, a pain that I expected of an intense pain that tried
only to stay with me for a few to destroy me, but it brought
moments, but it would remain forth my strongest facet,
for weeks, or even months. My allowing me to cope with it,
skin was fragile, sensitive to learn from it and grow.
the slightest touch, but at the
same time it was a stronger,
more resistant skin; a
surviving skin.
How did you feel at that
moment? The question is now
easier to digest. I felt
relieved, more open, more
humane. A slight bitter taste
reminded me of the scarce
remains of susceptibility in my
body, affected by the brutal
innocence with which I exposed
myself to one of my fears, to
one of my weaknesses. How is it
that the pains of the soul can
not be visible and understood,
and those of a scratch or a
bruise can cause such a stir?
My only way out to relieve the
overwhelming anguish that
flooded my throat, was to swim
“writing opens wounds and cauterizes them
at the same time”

“the pain of the soul is felt first

in the body”
“it becomes something cold in my
stomach, unease, nostalgia”
FOURTH SCENARIO
T H E
T H E
Like an animal subjected to
confinement, who sees the cage
open for the first time ...
that's how I thought I would
feel at the end of that painful
experience. Having reached a
level of tranquility enough to
cope with the emotional burden
I had received for the almost 4
hours that seemed like an
eternity, I understood that I
would not run away in fear of
that place. I went out to fill
my lungs with air, to feel the
heat of the sun on my skin, on
my face, on my hands. I left
reconciled with the 5 understanding
defenseless women who allowed
me to see their most noble
facet, not without having
previously faced their purest
pain. I do not blame them, nor
judge them, because their anger
was based on the fear of
exposing their pain to a being
alien to their devastation.
The hardest part of defining
this experience was the way I
managed to get out of that
battlefield, one of my
strongest challenges, one of my
biggest stumbling blocks. Every
day my mind takes me to that
latent place, like a shadow
that does not leave me but
allows me to continue. Today I
admit that I came to believe
that I would reach the top of
the mountain when I left that
place, keeping only the blurred
memories of what happened. I
allowed myself to believe in
the closing of an inconclusive
book, assuming never having to
face its end.
My body rejected any obstacle
that interrupted the flow of
water that ran through my
S K I N A N D I T S D E L I C A C Y,
B O D Y A N D I T S M O V E M E N T
bowels, cleaning and erasing
the last remaining pain marks
on my skin. The light, the sun,
at the same time purified me
and made me uncomfortable,
vaguely reminding me of a fiery
heat that I had felt before,
destroying again the delicacy
that my skin with so much
effort had achieved.
I then opened the book again,
facing an event that happened,
that was real and that will
accompany me for as long as my
memory allows it .
Illustrating my experience, and
the slightest
sensation in my body, became my
own process of catharsis; and
these letters, my own epilogue.
Each turn towards darkness,
each journey through the
crudest sensations in my skin,
cautiously lead me to an end
that takes me away step by step
from fear, returning the
movement to my body, and the
delicacy to my skin.
Again, to conclude, I turn to
someone else’s word that come
to me firmly: "And when it’s
over and done with, you still
think about it years later,
asking yourself if it was part
of your history that you
remember because the experience
was significant, or the
devastation was so real”
- Charles Bukowsky
 “I thank those who paused their lives
to make sure I did not go through this
alone”

“the flow of water that ran through my bowels,

cleaning and erasing the last remaining pain
marks on my skin”
“Pain is not the same as suffering.
Suffering is optional”
“VOLARÁN” GALLERY
“Pain Shared, Pain Diluted” was
exhibited in the Gallery “Volarán” at
Universidad de Los Andes, in February
of 2017.

“Volarán” is the exhibition of the best

graduation projects of the Department
of Design of Universidad de Los Andes,
Colombia.
The projects selected to be part of the
exhibition will be included in the book
“La Fábrica” that will be published by
the Department of Design on 2017.
“VOLARÁN” GALLERY