Hanna Allen: the perfect twist
“In my heart, I will always love toilet paper,” says Hanna Allen (B.F.A., sculpture, 2020).
Allen has found a more refined use for Scott Single Ply, transforming standard white rolls into fine art. The Atlanta-based sculptor’s pieces are strong enough to support climbing, swinging, and a child’s embrace, yet are ruined in a light mist. Her sculptures can stand fifteen feet tall or be worn by a bride walking down the aisle. With each twist, braid, and plait, she shares herself with the viewer.
At first glance, viewers might not notice Allen’s unusual chosen medium. Her pieces closely resemble macrame, fooling the eye for a moment of charmed disbelief. Whether umbrella, rope, or ladder, her unique pieces woven from toilet paper can contain up to forty rolls and take weeks to complete.
Hanna Allen:
Toilet paper has a specific use. We all know what it is and why we need it. It is meant to be disposed of, flushed down a drain, never seen again. There is nothing inherently cool or noteworthy about the roll hanging on the wall, yet what would we do without it? Like most things in life, toilet paper can mean more if you let it.
The summer after I graduated high school, I was diagnosed with narcolepsy. I was planning to attend SCAD Savannah and swim on the swim team. Out of an abundance of caution, my mother persuaded me to change my plans. Later that year, I slipped and fell on some ice and received my second concussion. There I was, at home in Atlanta, not sculpting, and not sure what to do next. So, I re-applied to SCAD Atlanta and I got in.
SCAD allowed me the freedom to experiment and find my creative voice. One night while I was working on a class project, I remembered an episode of Myth Busters where a prisoner used toilet paper to escape. I went and bought toilet paper to see if it would actually work. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just started twisting.
The simple act of twisting the toilet paper together affected me. The toilet paper rope became stronger as I braided the three cords together. I watched this weak and disposable item become strong, intricate, and beautiful. I felt myself connecting with the experience in a way that moved me on a spiritual level.
Flash forward to 2018, my junior year at SCAD. I traveled to Nepal for the Gallery Mcube Interdisciplinary Students Residency. I was encouraged to go by the leaders of the SCAD Atlanta InterVarsity club, a campus ministry group.
I was there with no tools and no SCAD studio to fall back on, wondering what I could do. I began sitting on my floor, twisting toilet paper into cords. Eventually the cords of three became cords of nine, eighty-one, and two-hundred and forty-three. My final product was a tree that suspended from the ceiling called “Chautari.” It still hangs in Kathmandu today, it was too heavy to take home.
When I back to Atlanta, I made a swing, a ladder, and a tug-of-war rope. It was incredible how strong the pieces were. Then my focus shifted to the fragility of the pieces. Yes, they were strong, but only if they were dry. I began my Destruction Series with a coronation robe I titled “Worth.” I wove an intricate garment and then walked outside and stood in the rain, allowing it to tear and fall apart.
As the garment deteriorated and failed, I felt a sense of relief. I felt myself let go of the stresses of being. I had made something I loved and let it go. I found my power as an artist through my Destruction Series. My beauty and worth aren’t tied to my accomplishments as a sculptor. I am me. I am a woman of faith, a friend, and a creator.
Written by Robert Almand
