hapticity

The haptic mark—in whatever form it takes—gives us a rendering of a sensual apprehension of space. The marks it makes are fluid. Within any combination of marks we witness the incisions of a particular history. The group of wrinkles in an aging person’s face, or the apparent cracks and scars on the bark of a tree’s trunk. These incisions—these haptics—are one of the ways in which we may publicly and intimately witness the pace, rhythm, the shape and character of an historical record.

Steven Vincent posts a photographic study of San Francisco sycamore trees.