Celia’s Studio
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@celiasstudio
BEHIND THE SELKIE COLLECTION
June 2021
My younger sister and I used to fall asleep to images of my great-grandmother as a child climbing moss-covered rocks, scavenging among decaying castle walls, burying her hands in seas of engraved gold coins. Around that time, when I was a child, she was nearing 104 years old. My dad would sit aside our beds and unfold recollections of Nellie's younger self. Great-Grandma Nelly had shared encounters with many compelling souls throughout her younger years: her best friend Kathleen, my Grandma Maire, the heroic Maud Gonne MacBride, illustrious Irish playwrights and revolutionaries, and, as legend has it, mermaids.
With a gentleness, my dad recounted stories of Nelly sneaking around Ballycastle, blanketing the green and blue town with her touch. She snuck into museums after hours, dug through Ireland’s supple soil in hopes of finding treasure, and she frequented Mermaid Cave, a massive cavity laying under Dunluce Castle, bridging Ballycastle’s land and sea. There, enclosed by moistened rocks and shallow waters, she befriended the mer-people. In her later years, as a civil rights activist during the Irish War of Independence, she would walk around town with a knife tucked in her stockings, with the same glaze of wonder and piercing resiliency swarming her eyes as was present in the cave’s dark and damp, accompanied by mermaid friends.
It was through years of drawing and researching mermaids that I discovered Selkies. In Celtic folklore, Selkies are considered a cross between seals and humans. Unlike mermaids, they are gentle and adaptable creatures exposed to both the sea and land. On full moons, they shed their outer skin like snakes, shapeshifting into humans and dancing together under the moonlight before returning back to water. This shedding and reapplication of skin catalyzes the transition between parallel worlds, the gentle transfer of bodies from one distinct environment another. Like many celtic mythological figures, they are creatures of liminality, of edges, and they bridge together worlds.
My desire to become one with the mystical seeps into much of my work today, underpinning the making of these corsets. Throughout the curation and assemblage of these pieces, I’ve understood corsets to serve as a sort of second skin - a transformational device that bridges the gap between day-to-day realities and fantasy. They are portals, brimming with history, controversy, and architectural nuance. Drenched in centuries of controversy, serving as symbols for both female oppression and female liberation, it is indeed heavy with meaning and brimming with the potential of transporting one between different worlds. These items not only serve as commemorations of my Irish heritage and the memorialization of my Great-Grandmother, but throughout time, have become emblems of the make-believe and theatrical. It’s a chance to cover our flesh with linen and scales, transferring ourselves between worlds, gifting us the possibility of shapeshifting, of playing.
I want to thank my grandma Nellie for passing down her wonder, instilling within us the awe for magic, and casting upon our young minds what it means to be curious, naive, and to embrace the fathomless oceans which define the unknown.
June 2021
My younger sister and I used to fall asleep to images of my great-grandmother as a child climbing moss-covered rocks, scavenging among decaying castle walls, burying her hands in seas of engraved gold coins. Around that time, when I was a child, she was nearing 104 years old. My dad would sit aside our beds and unfold recollections of Nellie's younger self. Great-Grandma Nelly had shared encounters with many compelling souls throughout her younger years: her best friend Kathleen, my Grandma Maire, the heroic Maud Gonne MacBride, illustrious Irish playwrights and revolutionaries, and, as legend has it, mermaids.
With a gentleness, my dad recounted stories of Nelly sneaking around Ballycastle, blanketing the green and blue town with her touch. She snuck into museums after hours, dug through Ireland’s supple soil in hopes of finding treasure, and she frequented Mermaid Cave, a massive cavity laying under Dunluce Castle, bridging Ballycastle’s land and sea. There, enclosed by moistened rocks and shallow waters, she befriended the mer-people. In her later years, as a civil rights activist during the Irish War of Independence, she would walk around town with a knife tucked in her stockings, with the same glaze of wonder and piercing resiliency swarming her eyes as was present in the cave’s dark and damp, accompanied by mermaid friends.
It was through years of drawing and researching mermaids that I discovered Selkies. In Celtic folklore, Selkies are considered a cross between seals and humans. Unlike mermaids, they are gentle and adaptable creatures exposed to both the sea and land. On full moons, they shed their outer skin like snakes, shapeshifting into humans and dancing together under the moonlight before returning back to water. This shedding and reapplication of skin catalyzes the transition between parallel worlds, the gentle transfer of bodies from one distinct environment another. Like many celtic mythological figures, they are creatures of liminality, of edges, and they bridge together worlds.
My desire to become one with the mystical seeps into much of my work today, underpinning the making of these corsets. Throughout the curation and assemblage of these pieces, I’ve understood corsets to serve as a sort of second skin - a transformational device that bridges the gap between day-to-day realities and fantasy. They are portals, brimming with history, controversy, and architectural nuance. Drenched in centuries of controversy, serving as symbols for both female oppression and female liberation, it is indeed heavy with meaning and brimming with the potential of transporting one between different worlds. These items not only serve as commemorations of my Irish heritage and the memorialization of my Great-Grandmother, but throughout time, have become emblems of the make-believe and theatrical. It’s a chance to cover our flesh with linen and scales, transferring ourselves between worlds, gifting us the possibility of shapeshifting, of playing.
I want to thank my grandma Nellie for passing down her wonder, instilling within us the awe for magic, and casting upon our young minds what it means to be curious, naive, and to embrace the fathomless oceans which define the unknown.
Great-Grandma Nellie and I, 2003