Pauline Rip is a French and Dutch designer who researches ignored, mocked, marginalized, irrational and false knowledge. Her approach has led her to consider subjects such as cryptozoology, reptilian conspiracies and elficology, as well as the bureaucratic aspects of the institutions that work to contradict them. She believes that alternative forms of truth may reveal beliefs and value systems that exist in authentic and constructed realities. In this interview, Pauline shares her thinking behind the “Elficology: The Harvesting of Morning Dew” project and how eco-fairy as a genre can help us approach the climate crisis from a different perspective.

Pierre Dubois coined the term elficology, aka “the ecology of the soul” or “study of little people” (fairies, and similar beings). What can you tell us about Dubois and the impact of his books/research on your project? Did you ever have any particular encounter with elves?

Pierre Dubois's work holds particular significance for my practice, and it's thanks to his research that I initiated this project. When I discovered the term "Elficology," which he coined, my curiosity was piqued, as I have a real penchant for neologisms. They embody the need to give shape to other realities by giving them names that seek to rationalize phenomena that are sometimes considered irrational. Thanks to this term, elves seem to assimilate into a sort of normality, thus creating tension between the rational and the irrational, a realm where I position my practice as a designer.

Moreover, Pierre Dubois takes a methodical approach by recording information in three distinct encyclopedias: one dedicated to elves, another to fairies, and the third to goblins. Through detailed instruction sheets, he describes their appearances, sizes, morality, temperaments, and finally, their diet, with morning dew occupying a significant place among them.

The concept of Elficology goes beyond the study of elves and folklore. Pierre Dubois also speaks of an "ecology of the soul," where he establishes a profound connection between nature and narratives, such as tales and folklore. From the perspective of design and my practice, this viewpoint opens up creative, fantastical, and non-human perspectives for addressing environmental and ecological issues.

We often associate modernity with efficiency and rationality, but this is inaccurate. Narratives and folklore, far from being old-fashioned, naive, or narrow-minded, actually function as vibrant cultural forces and a fertile creative medium for design. Stories, in essence, are a reflection of our very identity, according to P. Dubois, tales whisper and embody our social enigmas.

The question of whether I have personally encountered elves does not arise, as it involves a dynamic that goes beyond the binary concept of belief. As a designer, I need to step back to gain a comprehensive perspective on my work. My goal is not to attempt to believe in it, but rather to acknowledge the intrinsic significance of these “narrative projections” on our surroundings.

According to your research, Elven manifestation seems to occur in several countries across Europe. In some ways, it is reminiscent of the presence of certain species living and thriving across national boundaries. What role may politics/territories play in your narrative?

When I started working on elficology and discussing it with others, I received so many testimonials from people about the significance of these stories in different cultures. But, it's in Iceland, particularly, that the concept of "elves," or should I say Huldufólk (hidden people in Icelandic), takes on a really strong political and ecological meaning. In Iceland, 54% of Icelanders either believe in them or consider their existence possible, while 2% claim to have seen them. Many of the latter tell of sharing their tables or even their beds... Some places on the island are designated as protected reserves due to their believed inhabitance by elves. In other words, before constructing a building or road, Icelanders first investigate whether the area is home to elves. This approach uses the elf as a means of protecting a place where the use of folklore is in favour of the environment and of species whose existence is not to be proven.

Why is it important to revisit these fantastic species in the context of climate change? Does this relate to your “Eco-fairy” genre proposal?

I grew up in France, more specifically in Brittany, where the tenacious remains of a mystical culture enchant the forests and celebrate the idea of eternal nature. This land of legends now considered the bastion of French Celtic culture, is famous for its mythology and its bestiary of elves, fairies and goblins.
Just forty minutes from my home is the tomb of Merlin the Wizard. There are also druids, dowsers, sorcerers and many more. In 2022, I had the chance to speak with the Great Druid of Brittany, known by the bardic name of Morgan. During our conversation, he explained: "There are several ways of studying nature. You can approach it from a strictly scientific point of view, like a biologist, or you can immerse yourself in nature, like a poet."

Thus, in the context of an urgent ecological dynamic and a growing need for transparency and local initiatives, the magical thinking that surrounds the harvesting of morning dew aims to raise awareness of the ecosystems that surround us and how we, as human beings, consume the Earth's resources. It strives to counter the general feeling of eco-anxiety by creating an original dialogue between man and nature, giving rise to what might be described as an " eco-fairy ", in other words, an ecological tale.

We often find ourselves confronted with the same discourse on climate change, accompanied by directives on what to do or not to do, and under a certain pressure regarding individual responsibility. In this context, the introduction of an imaginative narrative element to the ecological issue could offer the possibility of an original dialogue between humans and nature. This reflection explores the environmental crisis from a different perspective, drawing from various viewpoints beyond purely scientific approaches, envisioning illusory, mythological, and fantastical possibilities.

What significance does Morning Dew have in Elven culture? How does it relate to fields such as alchemy or science?

There are several intriguing aspects to Morning Dew, the first of which concerns the elves. According to Pierre Dubois, as documented in his encyclopedia, elves have a penchant for feasting on morning dew, a delicacy much appreciated.

In the past, in the 'urban areas' of Flanders and the Netherlands, the chronology of which remains uncertain (we have a photo dating from 1911 and the last testimonies date from the 1970s), people gathered in the countryside, just outside the towns. They engaged in a practice known as "Dauwtrappen", which consisted of walking barefoot in the morning dew. They believed that dew had remarkable healing properties, particularly for skin ailments. Alchemists of the time were also attracted to morning dew, which they used in their quest for the elusive Philosopher's Stone.

In the book "The Mutus Liber," a significant Hermetic work published in 1677 in La Rochelle, you'll find beautiful engravings about this practice. They collected it carefully using a linen cloth – from which I drew inspiration for the traditional fictional costumes I designed that allow dew to be harvested thanks to large linen sleeves – and were particularly careful to ensure that the dew was never exposed to daylight, as it would spoil. This is precisely why the tradition of harvesting dew, which is part of my project, takes place at dawn.

In the realm of science, we can calculate the dew point (DP), marking the temperature at which air becomes saturated with moisture, resulting in the transformation of water vapour into liquid, resulting in dew or fog. This rational aspect lends predictability to dew, affirming its status as a natural element.

I find it fascinating when an element can simultaneously embody poetic symbolism and possess scientific attributes, creating numerous connections between folklore, tradition, ecology, and science.

You produced a print fiction dossier titled “Elficology: The Harvesting of Morning Dew” (2023), a document that could be submitted to UNESCO in 2040 as a request to be included in their list of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Do you believe fictional or “irrational knowledge” should be incorporated and cultivated through these types of institutions? What could be the benefit of that?

It's not so much that I want this practice to be included on UNESCO's list of intangible heritage, but rather how "fictional knowledge" calls into question a system of values that exists in our societies.

At the start of this reflection, I asked myself how we determine the value of a practice, an object, or a place. That's when I discovered the criteria established by UNESCO for the inclusion of practice on its Intangible Heritage Lists. For intangible practices, there are five criteria (R1, R2, R3, R4, R5), here's a particularly intriguing sentence I've extracted: « The ability to understand the value attributed to the heritage depends on the degree to which information sources about this value may be understood as credible or truthful » Article 80 II.E p.26 Decision 39 COM 11 of the Convention of the Unesco intangible cultural heritage.

In a sense, in response to your question, its functioning might already appear irrational, but how could it be otherwise? It is precisely this aspect that piques my interest.

It's important to note that inclusion in UNESCO's heritage list remains a contentious subject that sparks numerous debates among intellectuals and cultural actors. These discussions can highlight inequalities, particularly concerning classification categories such as "culture" and "nature." Some cultural practices even go so far as to alter their identity to better align with UNESCO's "criteria," smoothing over elements that might be politically incorrect, thus revealing the political aspect of the selection process. In the case of the morning dew harvesting practice, I have thus created it based on the criteria but drawing from fictional knowledge.

However, I have nothing against UNESCO in particular; it is a tool that offers many advantages (preservation, recognition, tourism...), and I am using it here as an agent of legitimation (the soft power it can represent) enabling me to ask: Does something have to be true to possess value and become part of a culture to be saved? In this regard, who determines the value of a specific knowledge area?

In your narrative, you include statements and stamps by members of fictional communities (such as “The Dew Gathering Fellowship of Yesteryears”) pleading for their cultural heritage to be recognized. Can you briefly tell us about these organizations and what they represent?

In the documentation to be submitted to UNESCO, it is necessary to include letters of support from the relevant communities. These letters serve to demonstrate the active commitment of local communities to the preservation of their cultural heritage. While adhering to the mandatory guidelines of the application, I also enjoyed delving into the bureaucratic and rational language of the documentation while inventing communities. This contributes to the "Make believe" aspect of the project.

Stamps are there for the symbolism they embody as an act of validation and legitimacy, an integral part of the bureaucracy that signifies the political power of offices.
What interests me is the radical and powerful act of stamping a document.

There are several elements and artefacts (vessels, costumes) and traditional craftsmanship (pottery, embroidery, weaving, etc) connected to the practice of morning dew collection. What role does your design education play in the development of this project? How does it help approach this concept critically?

I'm deeply passionate about know-how. I was awarded the "Maker Prize" upon completing my Master's degree in Contextual Design, which recognizes diversity and a student's engagement in workshops at the Design Academy Eindhoven. This project, in a way, forms a loop because it draws upon various real domains and techniques to create a fictional cultural practice that, in turn, highlights and celebrates them.

When a cultural practice is inscribed on the UNESCO list, all the actors who contribute to that practice are highlighted, because without their contribution, nothing would exist. This is where a complex network of craftsmanship begins to emerge. For example, when I set out to create costumes, it involved sewing, but it also encompassed the work of fabric weavers, and the cultivation of linen, and the same goes for the pottery that stores the dew. Each of these elements is essential to the creation of this cultural practice, much like a theatre production where behind the scenes, technicians are making it all happen. This is how I perceive my design practice. In this particular project, showcasing these interconnected aspects contributes to legitimizing the story being told.

Finally, you mentioned the possibility of developing a fictional cookbook, as well as a set of scents related to elven culture. Can you tell us more? What would be the benefit of manifesting these physical artefacts?

Yes indeed, I would like to create a cookbook that not only explores the harvesting of dew, one of the main dishes of the elves, but also a multitude of other astonishing ingredients, they consume according to the encyclopedia of P.Dubois, and what could be recipes. Among these culinary creations, one could find bramble wine, slug slime liqueur, fern bread, lichen butter, and many more. The idea would be to detail the know-how required for each ingredient's harvesting, including equipment, clothing, gestures, and songs, and thus integrate them into an imaginary culture with fictional rituals.

This book would always be rooted in a delicate balance between rationality and irrationality, fiction and reality, poisoning and edibility. It would serve to challenge our ignorance and certainties because some elements, such as fern bread or bird tongue dish, are based on practices that existed. For example, fern bread was consumed by starving peasants during times of famine, while the bird tongue dish was attributed to the Empress of Russia, Catherine II (1762-1796), and the Roman Emperor Aulus Vitellius (15-69 AD). Thus, historical reality becomes a relative of fiction in this culinary exploration.

When it comes to odours, I am leaning more towards the field of cryptozoology, which searches for hidden animals. The idea is to define the scent of the Loch Ness Monster, the Yeti, or Bigfoot by collaborating with a cryptozoologist and scientist, Louis Chevillard, whom I am in contact with. He is capable of providing scientific data about their potential habitats, classifications, diets, etc., which contributes to clues about their scents. For instance, Bigfoot is covered in fur, which could suggest a strong smell of sweat. It is said to inhabit the forests of Pennsylvania, where there are plenty of pine trees, which could also influence its odour.

The central idea is to work with rational data to speculate on the possible existence or non-existence of each cryptid, playing with the notions of the visible and the invisible through scents. The final project would take the form of a workshop where the audience would attempt to recreate the scent of a cryptid based on the clues they have and by using their imagination. Strangely enough, we can envision the Loch Ness Monster and even its fishy odour, despite the lack of concrete evidence for its existence. This highlights the human capacity to theorize about the unseen and underscores our inherent need to invent and speculate!

This project was developed in collaboration with an olfactory artist, Rachel Barfield, who works in a prominent scent library at Mediamatic in Amsterdam, where we are developing this project. It's also where I developed my project on elficology during my artistic residency.