Courtesy Lee Griggs
In "See Yourself X: Human Futures Expanded," author Madeline Schwartzman looks at conceptual ideas for how to extend and restructure the head. Here, Lee Griggs uses 3D software to create his startling portraits, playing with texture to make real human faces appear alien.

"Portrait rendered with Arnold for Maya" (2014) by Lee Griggs
courtesy patrick ian hartley
Taking contouring to the next level, fashion designer Patrick Ian Hartley manipulates the face shape with custom PVC face "corsets."
Courtesy Susanne Stemmer.com
Susanne Stemmer's half-human, half-fungi references the potential for hybridization in the future.

"Lately in the Wood" (2009) by Susanne Stemmer
Photo Quazi King/Courtesy joanne petit-frere
Joanne Petit-Frere's "Redressing the Crown" series turns colorful braids into elaborate hair sculptures.
Photo by Mario Sorrenti/Courtesy Bob Recine and Mario Sorrenti
Bob Recine, who often collaborates with Lady Gaga, is also known for his inventive hair sculptures -- often photographed by fashion photographer Mario Sorrenti.
courtesy grant yoshino
In "Ascension," Grant Yoshino brings society's obsession with long, lush eyelashes to new heights.
Courtesy Lauren Kalman
Much of Lauren Kalman's work transforms so-called physical flaws -- like diseases and physical trauma -- into works of art. "I bring to light uncomfortable connections in visual culture between body image, media, class, and style," she writes on her website.

"Lip Adornment" (2005) by Lauren Kalman
©Mudac-Lausanne/©HEAD-Geneve/Dylan Perrenoud
This glass helmet is only one visualization of telepathy proposed by graduate students at the Geneva University of Art and Design.
Courtesy Zachary Skinner
Artist Jayoung Yoon uses her own hair to create works like this one -- "Umbicality (A close or intimate connection.)"

"Connection between sky and body, air and skin, her hair bridges between nothingness and something," Schwartzman writes.
© Annegret Soltau, VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2015
"The wrapped self-portraits and portraits of others make visible the ties that bind of, and the control that others exert upon us," author Madeline Schwartzman writes of artist Annegret Soltau's work.

"Selbst, 1-12" (1975-76) by Annegret Soltau

Editor’s Note: Madeline Schwartzman is a New York-based writer, filmmaker and architect. This is an edited excerpt from her latest book, “See Yourself X: Human Futures Expanded,” published by Black Dog Publishing.

CNN  — 

Do you feel your head as a sandwich – as layers of bone, skin and hair? Probably not. The brain integrates ourselves into a functioning, unconscious whole. We feel the cladding only when something goes wrong, something as simple and universal as an infestation of lice. Then the contours of the head become very apparent and our goal – eradication and oblivion – becomes imperative.

The human head – the representation of thought, the sensory apparatus, the unfolding of consciousness, the key to our future as trans humans or post humans – is at the forefront of science, technology and even art. It always has been so, though to varying degrees.

But it is interesting to note that representations of the human head in prehistory, as depicted in the Venus of Willendorf were devoid of facial features for 20,000 years, until the Egyptians began depicting the human head in profile. The face was not important for that representation. The “culturally desirable attributes of the female form” were.

We clad ourselves to disappear, to blend, to transform, to hide, to level, to exaggerate, to hybridize, to desexualize, to attract, to role play, to contextualize, to shelter, to ritualize, to multiply, to joke and to perpetuate ourselves.

The inescapable and timeless

Photo Quazi King/Courtesy joanne petit-frere
A still from Joanne Petit-Frere's "Redressing the Crown" series

At any given age, we learn the cultural significance of our hair. We may find ourselves at an age where tamed buns and tight forms are the style zeitgeist. Or we may recognize that long Rapunzel-style tresses and locks hanging in our faces—revealing only traces of nose and eyes—are the way to be understood and desired.

Periodically we disappear into hoods, cowls, balaclavas and sunglasses. We tweak the nose, pull the skin, resurface, and apply makeup to give the appearance of extension.

Pinocchio-style, we sometimes add the stuff of fairy tales: piercings, horns, antennae (the accoutrements of cyborgs), sensors, cameras and technology like Steve Mann’s EyeTap. We also mimic. We become Marie Antoinette, or Nefertiti, the Terminator or Po from the Teletubbies.

But headwear not entirely at odds with the head. They need the head as a substrate; they need it in order to exist.

They are not predictive of a headless future, or a strictly technological one. Most of the head claddings here hark back to skin, hair and ceremonial or ornamental coverings. They are settled in their exteriority and impermanence. They are temporary rooms that we inhabit and shed. They are inescapable and timeless.

While we remain headed creatures there will be extensions of the human head that mimic or transform our perimeter.

“See Yourself X: Human Futures Expanded” by Madeline Schwartzman, published by Black Dog Publishing, is out now.