“Mum! Here are some people who want to know what we eat, if we can mend a puncture, how often you hug Dad, and if they can photograph our skiing socks!” So reads the cover of the 1986 publication, “Home Thoughts from Abroad”, in which Elisabet Stavenow-Hidemark laid out a summary of the Swedish SAMDOK project. [1]
Short for Samtidsdokumentation, or “Contemporary Documentation”, this project was founded in 1973 to meet two goals within museum collecting: “preservation of an optimal stock of objects for the future“, and “furnishing objects with the necessary peripheral information.” [2] In other words, documentation and collection of contemporary objects to provide for the future of museums. Systematic models were created to help researchers organize their findings, which emphasized not only accession but the recording of contemporary use and practice around those items.
"The Magnusson Family from Töreboda, Västergötland, in their former kitchen, acquired by Nordiska Museet and exhibited in 1991. Photo: Birgit Bränvall/Nordiska Museet. Published in "Samtiden som Kulturarv".
In 1973, the organization was made up of five national and regional museums, which would rotate responsibility for collecting each year. Researchers at each institution would choose a family that they felt was representative of the area (i.e. a dockworker and his family in Göteborg) and carefully document their living spaces with photographs, usually focusing on one room. After in situ documentation, the researchers would attempt to acquire as many of the objects from that room as the family was willing to donate. Oral histories were recorded.
The project has been temporarily set aside as the Secretariat went into retirement at the end of 2011. But in the recent decades, both the numbers of participating museums and the scope of the project broadened. The ethnographic nature of this enquiry spawned many critical works examining the role of photographs, objects and oral history in the project respectively, as well as the worth and role of this work in the modern museum system at large. [3] The categories for collecting are more spacious and flexible, such as “Domestic Life and Leisure”, “Management of Natural Resources”, and “Politics and Society”, among others. For example, in 1986, researchers from a museum in Lidköping followed truck driver/delivery man Christer Sandin for “A Day in the Life of a Truck Driver.” Extensive photographs taken throughout the day document not only his work duties, such as loading the truck, driving, and conversations with clients, but also show Christer’s home life, eating habits, and that he spent the whole work day in clogs.
Christer Sandin, Truck Driver, goes through the daily motions while a researcher follows and documents. Note the footwear. Taken in 1986. Published in "Åkarens Vardag".
Clothing is, of course, a natural part of this collecting. In fact, in “Home Thoughts from Abroad”, Stavenow-Hidemark suggests that, “one might say that clothes were possibly over-represented, which is quite natural when each research project chose to document ‘their’ people. Clothes certainly give an identity, and form a kind of skin. . . . the material collected is too similar. Jeans are quite clearly over-represented, with 12 pairs.” [4]
Written in 1986, the number of objects collected numbered just over 1,100, and they were seeing imbalances. There were few examples of cleaning equipment, gardening tools, or sewing supplies, even though many of the women in the study were actively engaged in embroidery projects. This issue seems to be a function of the collections practice, and I wondered: were jeans truly over-represented, or is this indicative of their ubiquity in the 1980s? Did the subjects value their jeans less than other clothing or see them as more easily replaceable, and were more willing to donate them?
This, of course, calls up a common question in work on the future of museums collections, and especially contemporary documentation: who decides? Is the researcher, as a contemporary observer, in a better position to assess how appropriate objects and quantities are to the collection and provide “peripheral information”? Or is it best to wait a few years to gain a little “distance”, and risk losing the opportunity to collect information from those who use(d) these objects? Publications by members of SAMDOK aver that we cannot take that risk.
How would you feel seeing an object you were wearing behind glass in a museum? Has that ever happened to you? A poignant illustration by Jerry Kock. Published on the cover of "Today for Tomorrow", 1980.
I think this is an especially pertinent question now that we are all using technology to not only document our thoughts, movements, practices, and relationships with people and things, but also to share it willingly with friends and even strangers. With monumental decisions such as the move by the Library of Congress to save all public Twitter posts, we see that some American institutions are interested in saving the public’s self-documentation. Does this augment observations by researchers and museum staff? Does this glut of information complicate the matter, or enrich it?
The Samdok project is a really interesting attempt to extend the regulations and the organizational structure of museum collections onto how we live today. As someone who has been frustrated by what I considered lax object documentation in museum collections, I also appreciate the intention of assembling the most complete object profile possible. It seems very democratic, at least aesthetically: although curators and collections managers are still deciding which subjects to study, the objects are not chosen because of their perceived beauty or novel contribution to a certain field. Instead, they are chosen precisely for their quotidien natures and everyday use by a member of the general public, who until recently have been largely disenfranchised in museum collecting.
Do sweatsuits have a place in museum collections with designer gowns and ancient embroidery? From Hälsinglands Museum in Hudiksvall, accessioned 1989. Photo: Solveig Englund. Published in "Adressat Okänd".
Museums taking on a role that reflects the way we are now interacting with objects and use (rapidly, publicly, immediately) secures their continued place in our cultural system as the institutions that create and safeguard meaning. This is partially achieved by asserting the supremacy of the object:
“Can people be ‘separated’ from their possessions? Can people be understood other than in their relationships to objects, things they enjoy, play with, embrace or avoid? We articulate feelings as well as opinions and wishes through objects, from baby’s first pacifier and favorite blanket to the utilitarian things, symbolic objects, and all manner of ostentatious and artificial trappings of adult life. We express ourselves through objects, and vice versa: objects express what people like and think.” [5]
What do you think? Is it possible to responsibly and accurately collect contemporary objects (and their use)? Is it irresponsible not to? What does this mean for “objecthood”? What role does a project like this play in the future of museums, both in literal terms (limited space) and philosophical terms (museums as bastions of culture)? What museums put this into practice in your country? Please leave your comments below!
[1] Stavenow-Hidemark, cover of pamphlet.
[2] Rosander, 6
[3] See especially Silvén and Gudmundsson, 190
[4] Stavenow-Hidemark, 55-6
[5] Björklund, 7 [my translation].
Please check out these books for more depth:
Björklund, Anders and Eva Silvén-Garnert, eds. Addressat okänd: framtidens föremål. Stockholm: Carlssons, 1996.
Dahlman, Eva, ed. Verklighets Bilder? Om fotografer och fotografier i museernas samtidsdokumentation. Stockholm: Nordiska museets Förlag, 1999.
Åkarens vardag. Lidköping: Lidköpings Hantverks- och sjöfartsmuseum, 1990.
Rosander, Göran, ed. Today for Tomorrow: Museum documentation of contemporary society in Sweden by acquisition of objects. Stockholm: SAMDOK Council, 1980.
Silvén, Eva and Magnus Gudmundsson, eds. Samtiden som kulturarv: Svenska museers samtidsdokumentation 1975-2000. Stockholm: Nordiska museets förlag, 2006.
Stavenow-Hidemark, Elisabet. “Home Thoughts from Abroad: an Evaluation of the Samdok Homes Pool”, in Museums in the Material World, Simon J. Knell, ed. Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2007 [also a pamphlet published by Nordiska Museet, 1986].
Many thanks to Eva Fägerborg for her help with this post, and happy retirement!
*You might have noticed the new heading: “Objektet och Museet”. Meaning, “The Object and The Museum” in Swedish, this reflects my interest and background in Material Culture as well as my new country of residence! Look for this column heading every other Thursday for more explorations of clothing and culture in Swedish society and daily life.
This weekend we are headed to Stockholm to visit one of the renowned “mässor”, or trade exhibitions. The company Bakåt/Framåt (Backward/Forward) organizes some of the best-attended and hippest of these: they organize one for food, one that celebrates the LP, a “retro“ show of furniture and home furnishings, and this weekend is one of their vintage clothing exhibitions, which is the one we will stand in line for!
Wares offered at last year's Vintagemässan. From the Bakåt/Framåt website. Photo: unknown.
I’ve never been before, so I can’t tell you what I’m expecting. But it does bring up some questions about the role of vintage clothing in our lives. This, of course, is a topic that can barely be breached in one small post, but here I will look at an exhibition of and about vintage clothing that was held last year at Livrustkammaren in Stockholm.
Almost everything in my closet is from second-hand and vintage stores or the wardrobes of my female relatives, some of which are worn often, some of which have never been worn by me, and probably never will be. Interested in collections, I am glad to have my own, but feel a museum employee’s guilt in leaving some of these dresses hanging when they should be lying flat, for example, or wearing the older or more fragile dresses. Every piece was acquired with the intention of gentle, respectful, but inevitably somewhat sweaty and perfumed use. Our relationships with clothing are personal and passionate, but this subject has also become a respected academic question, museum ticket-office hit, and lucrative business: both private and very public.
A few of my favorite things, 2012. Photo: Arianna E. Funk.
Wearing clothing that was fashionable decades before the present day is hardly a new phenomenon, but you might agree that interest in “vintage” clothing it is growing the same way many interests and hobbies are these days: by WordPress leaps and Facebook bounds, to say nothing of period dramas that have flooded our televisions. It’s fantastic!
But can we define “vintage”, or should we?Etsy, an internet marketplace where entrepreneurs can theoretically only sell items that they have made or vintage items, defines vintage as “before 1993″, which raised some eyebrows.
The Royal Armoury, Livrustkammaren, held an exhibition last year that displayed the dresses of four twentieth-century royal women, under the title, “Kunglig Vintage” (Royal Vintage). A few of the outfits were grand ball gowns, but most were for daily use or less formal occasions; this was not an idolatrous look at glamourous lives, but a survey of popular styles and silhouettes across the decades–with a royal twist. The subtle “red thread” throughout the exhibition was: what is our perception of “vintage”–the word, the objects, the social construct?
The first room of "Kunglig Vintage" at Livrustkammaren, which closed January 29, 2012. Note the background, which is Stockholm city at night, c. 2010. Photo: Arianna E. Funk.
Livrustkammaren exhibits clothing in the cellar of the Royal Palace in Stockholm, and the dark, underground atmosphere and the stonework walls are a dramatic backdrop for showing collections, especially the permanent historic clothing collections and armor on their ground floor. The exhibition designers for Kunglig Vintage chose to create their own space, using large photographic murals of modern scenes to set off the dresses, which were arranged by a combination of color and mood.
The Blue room in the exhibition, "Kunglig Vintage". The 18th century-inspired gown in the corner is from the late 1890s, juxtaposed with some long and lean 1970s silhouettes. Photo: Arianna E. Funk
There was a lot going on; a little too much for me, but the aim of a multi-sensory understanding of this clothing might have been appreciated by those who were less focused on analyzing and more on experiencing the objects. Each of the four rooms had not only historic clothing, dating from the late 1890s to the 1970s, but also one piece by a modern Swedish designer that was “inspired by” the vintage pieces around it.
Three non-clothing aspects: museum text in English and Swedish, smelling stations (the cylinders), and highlighted details. From the White room of "Kunglig Vintage". Photo: Arianna E. Funk.
Plaques at the edge of the balcony separated the exhibition from the permanent collection below, and suggested word associations with each color and mood. Smelling stations asked visitors to think of colors they identified with various scents. As a reminder at the exit of each room, there was a small panel on the environmental impact of buying new clothing.
For me, this miljövänlig (environmentally friendly) concern was the strongest connection to exploring the role of vintage clothing in our contemporary lives, as it is one of the many reasons I and many other buy old clothes and avoid the new. The royal clothing on view was not worn as vintage clothing, but as part of the wardrobes of very public figures, some are more fashion-forward, some conservatively “of the period”. It is our perception and viewing of this clothing in 2012 that suggests the objects’ classification as “vintage”. I enjoyed the range of silhouettes within each color group, and the princesses were of various sizes and ages when they wore these dresses, which is well-represented here–a rare sight.
A few selections from the Black room of "Kunglig Vintage". Photo: Arianna E. Funk.
Another strong point was a small corner where they installed a vintage outfit from the closets of well-known contemporary Swedish personage, accompanied by a personal statement. When I was there the first time, it was a long green dress from the 1940s owned by blogger and personal shopper Elsa Billgren. The continuing legacy and history of every clothing object was here at its best, that dress being a replacement for another beloved floor-length green dress from the 1940s, which was irreparably ruined.
This exhibition helped inform the public’s growing interest in vintage clothing. The designer of each dress was treated as a minor detail here, generally overlooked except where nationally significant, acknowledging Swedish designers and houses such as Märthaskolan and Augusta Lundin and their importance in shaping the royal body.
Livrustkammaren, as Royal Armoury, has a distinct mission of collecting only royal and related garments. But this exhibition made me think about what museums with broader missions choose to collect and show, especially when it comes to the famously (apocryphally?) democratic and mass-produced American twentieth century. The role and responsibilities of the private collector or the enthusiast is one that inspires spirited debate; a video of Courtney Love smoking in her closet full of vintage clothes led to some distressed comments on the Costume Society of America’s Facebook page a few weeks back, among other online communities.
Throughout this winter, I wore a short cape of dark green wool with a velvet collar, big silver buttons and a tag that reads, “Original Lanz”; I felt a pang of guilt when I saw a contemporaneous example safely housed and conserved in the FIDM collections, an indication of a continuing faith in museums as the most appropriate place for clothing “of a certain age.”
What constitutes museum quality, or what makes a clothing object worthy of being in these institutions, some of which are forced to make strict decisions based on collections space and budgets? Do you think museum exhibitions inspire people to buy similar clothing for their personal use, or continue to uphold the aura of exclusivity?
What is the role of the private collector, and what are his or her responsibilities to owned objects? Is it wrong to wear vintage clothing? Would you put “age” restrictions on your decision, i.e. nothing made before 1920?
I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts and personal experiences in the comments section, I’ll surely be thinking about it all this weekend!
Installing an exhibition is exciting, seeing years of work finally come together. In 2011 I worked with my colleague Curator, Lindie Ward on the Love Lace exhibition. Below is a short video, which was filmed during installation, in which Lindie talks a bit about the process of installing the exhibition.
Currently on view through March 24th at James Cohan Gallery in Chelsea, is the new Yinka Shonibare exhibition: Addio del Passato (So closes my sad story). A British artist of African ethnicity, who spent his childhood divided between the cosmopolitan cities of London and Lagos, Shonibare has long professed to be inspired by questions surrounding cultural authenticity, and this idea features prominently within all of his work. His pieces range in scale, material, and process; yet, they are all immediately recognizable through the unified threads of his signature use of Dutch wax printed textiles and his critical juxtaposition of these fabrics into the art historical narrative. Whether via sculpture, film, photography, or painting, clothing is a vital element of identity in much of Shonibare’s art; each article of dress is imbued with key signifiers that relay crucial artistic information. Additionally, his use of printed textiles, commonly associated with West Africa, allude to the artist’s own ambiguous ethnic origins and his examination of cultural identity and authenticity in today’s global world.
This exhibition continues the artist’s engagement with a playful reconstruction of the life of the famous British officer Lord Nelson, a notable hero from the Napoleonic Wars. In 2010 the artist installed a bottle ship “replica” of Nelson’s vessel Victory, in Trafalgar Square in London, and Addio del Pasato resumes this trajectory with a sort of historical re-imagination of Nelson’s life, illustrated through a series of five C-print photographs dubbed “fake death pictures”, which are accompanied by a short film and several glass vitrines that display costumes and fetish contraptions that include items such as an Anti-hysteria device.
In his work, Shonibare both literally and metaphorically re-colors scenes from history. By beginning within the western-centric art historical framework that often portrays scenes of elite privilege and inserting strongly symbolic textiles and actors of color into the equation, the racial codes associated with European culture are subverted, and the dominant code of class becomes obscured. This subversion of codes asks the viewer to question the meanings and history that these context-specific images reference. Addio del Pasato draws from the paintings: The Suicide by Leonardo Alenza y Nieto, 1839; Edouard Manet’s The Suicide, 1877; The Death of Chatterton by Henry Wallis, 1856; François-Guillaume Ménageot’s, Death of Leonardo da Vinci, 1781; and Bartolomé Carducho’s Death of St. Francis from 1593.
The two costumes displayed in the gallery include the coat that features prominently throughout the series of Fake death photos and the dress worn by the actress in the short film for the exhibition. Exhibiting the costumes in this way, as artifacts of the artistic process, has become popular within contemporary art, a method commonly employed by artists such as Matthew Barney or John Miserendino. Yet, fusing contemporary considerations with past traditions is in many ways the essence of Shonibare’s work. Several of his photographs in the show mix chronology just as unabashedly as they fuse cultures.
Leonardo Alenza y Nieto’s, The Suicide, 1839, paired alongside the re-interpreted Yinka Shonibare Fake Death photo.
The central figure in all of these works, a stand-in for Lord Nelson, is dressed the same throughout the series of photographs. While the reference pieces for the artist span a vast range of time from c.1593-1877, the majority of these pieces are from the 19th century. In some photographs the incongruity of the dress and time period feels less obvious, but in others, such as the Fake death photo after Manet’s, The Suicide, multiple aspects of the re-interpretation of this impressionist work have been choreographed to convey different messages.
Overlooking the intentions of the dutch wax-printed textiles, Shonibare dresses his figure in a loose interpretation of men’s 18th century dress with breeches, brightly colored stockings, jacket, vest, and powdered wig. The modernity of the 19th century shirt and pants worn by Manet’s figure is also rejected through Shonibare’s insertion of a heavily-fringed voided velvet throw across the bed, and an oriental carpet across the floor
While the enduring popularity of oriental carpets make them a somewhat timeless icon, Shonibare uses a small pattern Holbein rug. The artist Hans Holbein portrayed this style of carpet so often during the 16th century that the rug was eventually named after him. The price of these carpets has also endured along with their popularity, and their association with luxury remains unchanged.
Even the painting that hangs on the wall has been reinterpreted, featuring a woman in opulent 18th century dress. Although her head is absent (perhaps a continuation from his earlier works with beheaded mannequins in reference to the French Revolution), the extravagant engageantes of her dress fill the frame.
Behind a dark curtain the gallery space holds a viewing room for the film. In the feature, a beautiful actress wearing a re-interpreted chemise a la reine or robe de gaulle and a powdered wig, roams through the opulent interior and gardens of a mansion. She sings an aria from Verdi’s La Traviata, wandering around forlornly with a fan clutched in her hand playing the role of Francis Nisbet, the abandoned wife of Lord Nelson. Scenes of rippling water and wine pouring into crystal goblets, are interjected between her wanderings and shots of the photographs featured in the exhibition. These images of the Fake death photos have the feel of a frozen tableaux-vivant, subtle motions occur such as the slow drop of a hand, or scraps of paper fluttering across the floor, moved by an invisible breeze. The mournfulness of the music is overwhelming, yet, the theatricality of Shonibare’s work never completely allows the dark nature of the exhibition themes to detract from the underlying humor that is inherent in all of his work.
Part of this humor or irony stems from his devotion to using Dutch wax printed textiles. The wax prints used in Shonibare’s work, and commonly found in Africa, were produced by the Dutch initially as a mass produced alternative to Indonesian batik fabrics. When these textiles failed to sell in Indonesia, they were later sold to the Africans where they became exceedingly popular, and which they are now commonly associated with today. This use of a material, which is not authentic to any particular society, references the ambiguity of culture in a globalized world. Shonibare purchases these textiles exclusively through the Brixton market in England, from a vendor that he trusts to supply him with “authentic” Dutch wax prints, and not potentially African versions.
These textiles feature in all of Shonibare’s pieces in the exhibition. Even the front room which contains a pair of fetish devices alongside a pair of boots, contains scraps of fabric lining the straps of the “codpiece”/ anti-masturbation device, and covers the studded phallus of the mechanized Anti-hysteria device. Whitehot magazine features a recent interview with the artist in which he discusses how he added this portion of the exhibition to lighten things:
“That part of the show is my adding wit to that. The show is already very dark, but there’s a degree of humor I wanted to add. They’re also about sexual repression, as well. You’ve got the “hysteria machine”, which is basically a vibrating dildo, if you’d like. It’s a fetishistic sexual thing, but could also be about power relations: when women were deemed to be “mentally ill”, they felt that that kind of “masturbation machine” would release the tension. The object mechanically moves and whistles. It is quite funny, and I’ve got some fetishistic boots, as well. Also, the “anti-masturbation” codpiece. Sexuality can be used as a form of power over people. There’s a serious and playful side, slightly whimsical side, to the exhibition. It’s necessary since I feel the show is quite dark, it needed some sort of release.” 1
Addio del Passato is on view through March 24th. For more info please see the gallery website.
1- Mason, Shana Beth, “Yinka Shonibare MBE the Whitehot Interview,” Whitehot Magazine, February
2012.
Images:
1- Yinka Shonibare Fake death photo after The Death of Chatterton by Henry Wallis, 1856
2- Installation shot
3- Yinka Shonibare Fake death photo after the Death of St. Francis by Bartolomé Carducho, 1593.
4 & 5- Installation shots
6 & 7 -The Suicide by Leonardo Alenza y Nieto, 1839; Fake death photo by Yinka Shonibare
8- Yinka Shonibare Fake death photo after The Suicide byEdouard Manet, 1877
It’s not every week that one finds oneself in close physical contact with Fortuny delphos dresses, Balenciaga masterworks, Cecil Beaton drawings, YSL Mondrian dresses, a Schiaparelli hat, and Ballets Russes costumes by Matisse and Bakst.
Dresses by Balenciaga await their place in the exhibition showcases.
Overview of the second floor gallery, 72 hours before opening.
In addition to the immense pleasure I could not help but take in handling treasures of costume and fashion, I was astonishingly pleased and inspired to be working alongside such a phenomenally talented, dedicated and wonderfully warm team. To all new friends and colleagues from Venice and abroad, I send my appreciation and very warmest respect and thanks.
The worktable of hair genius Angelo Seminara, and his wondrous team, who crafted the masterworks of wigmaking for the exhibition.
Display of archive material relating to Diana Vreeland's life and career, at the Diana Vreeland After Diana Vreeland exhibition
The conference brought together prominent voices in the field of fashion and museums, to reflect upon Diana Vreeland’s legacy, and the past and future of fashion curating as a discipline. I’ll be reporting on the conference next week, but for the present am proud to share my photographs from behind-the-scenes at Diana Vreeland After Diana Vreeland.
Leon Bakst Ballets Russes Costume, Judith Clark Costume Collection Archive, mounted by Jenna Rossi-Camus.
The Belle Epoque and Balenciaga. Wig by Angelo Seminara, dress collection of MArtin Kamer, Velvet coat, Balenciaga Museum.
Display of Missoni and Pucci ensembles, alongside the calico upholstered horse, masterminded and crafted by the MA Fashion students at IUAV who assisted on the project.
Garments pictured from collection of Martin Kamer.
Exhibition view, March 9, 2012
And, do also check out the exhibition publication, available from April 15, 2012. It is a gorgeous and well-thought out document of Vreeland’s work, and the work of the exhibition’s team.
From December 17, 2011 through February 5, 2012 Rodarte’s Fra Angelico installation was on display at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I had the opportunity to view the exhibit myself at the end of January, just before it closed. This capsule collection was designed exclusively for LACMA, and was inspired by not only the San Marco murals painted by Fra Angelico from which it derives its name, but also by the Baroque sculpture,The Ecstasy of St Teresa, by Bernini.
Displayed on a raised platform and invisible mounts in the museum’s Ahmanson building, which houses their collection of European art, the collection consisted of ten gowns, some with metal breastplates, belts, and headpieces surrounded by paintings in the same style as the Fra Angelico murals. The collection was positively riveting and even in its last week and in the midst of LACMA’s new In Wonderland exhibit launch was still extremely popular with visitors.
The colour palette was clearly where the Fra Angelico influence came in. Possibly one of his most famous murals is The Annunciation, and when looking at the angel Gabriel’s wings in particular you can see the aqua, coral, and white and red that can be found in many of the dresses.
Bernini’s The Ecstasy of St Teresa has been a favourite sculpture of mine since I was an undergraduate, and it was exciting to see it reinterpreted as the breastplate, belt, and headpiece displayed as well as (in my opinion) in the golden lead dress for the collection. I found the transformation of St Teresa’s passivity into a more forthright, even aggressive, form of self expression provocative and inspiring.
But, had I not known what art the Mulleavy Sisters had looked to for their concept I would have assumed they had been watching old film footage of late 1930s to 1940s Hollywood film premieres, awards shows, or to fashion shows from that era. The whole collection had a vintage glamour feel, which was wonderful, but decidedly not Italian Renaissance or Baroque. As I circled the platform, I was reminded of a video that made the rounds a year ago of 1930s fashion predictions for the year 2000, and a relatively unknown film of a very young Grace Kelly modelling the latest evening fashions.
Placing the dresses on invisible mounts, even to the extent that the St Teresa headpiece floated ethereally above the main garment, was an extremely elegant and powerful way to display the clothes. It transformed them from dresses into sculptures and created a focus that is occasionally lost when clothing is mounted on mannequins. It was possible to circumambulate the collection, enabling visitors to see them from any and every angle. I found the placement of the pieces in a room with paintings most like the Fra Angelico murals to be an excellent way to echo the colour scheme of the garments in the walls that surrounded them.
The Rodarte pieces have now become part of the LACMA permanent dress collection. Rodarte has previously donated single pieces to museums, but this is the first time that I am aware of where they have created and donated an entire capsule collection. Dress collections were originally created to show what and how people wore. It appears that they are in the process of evolving. Not only are pieces being acquired straight off the runways, but it seems the greatest testimony that fashion is now accepted as an artform and not just a practical craft that pieces and collections which will never be worn are being commissioned by and for museums. I hope that this will not be the last Rodarte collection created exclusively for a museum, and that they will inspire other designers to do the same.
Fashion Bytes will return next week.
** Special thanks to LACMA’s Costume and Textiles curatorial staff for the images of the Rodarte installation.
Symposium: The Discipline of Fashion Between the Museum and Curating
Palazzo Badoer, aula Tafuri
San Polo 2468
Venezia Saturday, 10th March 2012
The Università Iuav di Venezia and the London College of Fashion (University of the Arts London) have organised an international symposium in collaboration with the Centre for Fashion Studies (Stockholm University), in conjunction with the opening of the exhibition Diana Vreeland After Diana Vreeland curated by Judith Clark and Maria Luisa Frisa at Palazzo Fortuny (March 10-June 25, 2012).
The symposium aims to discuss the evolving discipline of fashion curating, and brings together prominent voices from the field. The conference will use Diana Vreeland’s exhibitions and experience as Special Consultant to The Costume Institute at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (1972-1989) as a starting point for articulate reflections on the relationships between fashion, exhibitions and museums. Curated panel sessions will focus on Diana Vreeland’s legacy and the principal themes brought forth by her work at the Costume Institute including: the display of fashion in museums; the definition of fashion exhibition and the relation between fashion curating and exhibition making; the relationship between the roles of fashion curator and fashion editor; the role of fashion curating in academia.
How to participate:
Admission is free and no booking is required.
Registration is at the entrance.
Last Tuesday I was thrilled to attend the opening of the Cindy Sherman retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art. Sherman has long been on the radar of the art and fashion world, and even leading up to the opening there has been a plethora of articles in anticipation of the exhibition. I’ve assembled links to some of them at the bottom of this post, including an interesting interview that Brenna was so kind to pass my way.
As is par for the course, the galleries were so crowded that it was difficult to really take the exhibition in. I am looking forward to heading back to MoMA to give the show the attention that it deserves, but in the spirit of photography I thought that I would share some images that I took at the opening event with WT readers.
Entrance to the exhibition
Many of her untitled film stills are on display
“The salon”
Some newer work utilizes digital technology
One highlight of the evening for me was capturing Bill Cunningham, capturing another on film. How could I possibly resist such an opportunity!
There is a great catalog for the exhibition available, written by the lovely Eva Respini which includes an interview between Sherman and John Waters.
A wall of VHS tapes welcome visitors to the exhibition. Photo: Museo de la Moda
Last month, on the final day of my holiday in Chile, I paid my second visit to the Museo de la Moda, to see their current exhibition Back to the 80s, Part II and to see how the museum is faring since my introductory visit two years ago. Back in 2009, I met the museum’s director and founder, and the curatorial and conservation team, and had a behind-the-scenes look at their exquisite storage facilities, galleries and library.
1980s design objects installed in period rooms of the museum.
The Museo de la Moda was founded by Jorge Yarur Bascuñan in 1999, and in 2007 the museum opened to the public on the grounds of his former family residence, with the mission to collect, preserve and exhibit world fashion, textiles and design objects from around the word and across time. The Yarur-Bascunan house is a masterwork of mid twentieth century design, by a quartet Chilean architects, whom were greatly influenced by the style and philosophy of Frank Lloyd Wright. The house’s exterior and interior restored rooms, are wonderfully evocative examples of early 60s design, with the original furnishings, wall coverings and lighting intact. Rooms in the house including Raquel Bascuñan’s dressing room, the study, lounge, bar room and bedrooms as part of the museum’s permanent exhibition, and also serve as backdrops for items in temporary exhibitions. Currently, artworks and furniture from the 1980s, notably pieces by Memphis, are installed in the rooms, creating a marvellous juxtaposition of twentieth century design, highlighting both the stylistic changes, and parallels between early 60s modernism and postmodernism.
Information about the house, the Yarrur-Bascuñan family, and the costume collection precedes the current exhibition galleries, and sets a scene for understanding the museum as the culmination of a family legacy, and the lifelong passion of its director and founder. Notable in the introductory gallery is an edited film showing Raquel Bascuñan, fashionable dressed and poised in the 1950s, travelling throughout Europe in iconic Dior-style dresses, many of which are part of the museum’s collection today.
The gallery hallways are bedecked with 80s magazine images.
The current exhibition, Volver a los 80s, (Back to the 80s), promised to present the fashions of the decade as social phenomena, and to examine the 80s in all its incarnations: playful, eclectic, socially charged and intensely creative. The introductory text describes the 80s as a ‘cocktail of contradictions’; a time in which fashion became a ‘delicious indulgent spectacle,’ amidst the backdrop of great social and cultural changes in the world. This fairly simple yet concise introduction set the scene for the exhibition splendidly, and also freed the objects to exist in a broad but multi-faceted context. There were minimal text interventions following the introductory panels, and labels were non-intrusive and provided the necessary information elegantly.
The Delorean time machine from the Back to the Future films on display
Exhibition design took a starring role from the very beginning, as visitors traverse a vibrantly coloured corridor made up of VHS tape cases to enter the galleries. From the outset, a soundtrack of familiar 80s dance tunes blares through the exhibition, making it easy to become immersed in the sound of the decade, and more than a little bit difficult to resist dancing! All the passageways were papered with copies of 80s magazine covers and pages, looking a little bit like the walls of my childhood bedroom, with colourful images from The Face, Vogue, i-D and various music magazines at every turn.
Marty McFly's jacket from Back to the Future 2
The jewel of the exhibition, is an undeniably iconic piece of 1980s film history – the time machine Delorean from the Back to the Future films. The car is installed among television screens playing clips of the films, and neon signs spelling out slogans and keywords of the 80s. Not only does the museum offer us this 80s prop par excellence, but also the jacket worn by Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future 2, displayed in a special oxygen free showcase to ensure its survival far past the year 2015!
Jacket worn by Nik Rhodes of Duran Duran (far left) alongside the toile of Princess Diana's wedding dress (right) Photo: Museo de la Moda
Although there are other film and celebrity related costumes and artifacts on show, the exhibit is deeply committed to showing the 80s as a time of innovative, ground-breaking design, spearheaded not only by pop and film icons such as Madonna and Arnold Schwarzenegger, but also owing to the fashion designers and ordinary people who catapulted them into the spotlight. The exhibits of celebrity clothing also illustrate the 1980s’ rich diversity. For example, one gallery displays the toile for Princess Diana’s wedding dress, a leather jacket worn by Nik Rhodes in the Duran Duran video “Wild Boys,” Madonna’s lace gloves, and a faux fur coat worn by Leigh Bowery.
An array of 1980s mass fashion items
A selection of more populist fashions, including L.A. Gear sneakers, band t-shirts, surf and swimwear, Fiorucci seperates, denim and leather gives a view onto how the celebrity and media cultures of fashion filtered down into mass fashion.
View of the Vivienne Westwood gallery display, Photo: Museo de la Moda
En route to the large exhibition spaces featuring displays on specific European, American and Japanese designers, was a room that I found it hard to tear myself away from – a whole gallery of Vivienne Westwood! Alas, I managed to carry onward to see the rest of the show, but not before literally pressing my nose to the glass for a few minutes.
A collection of items by Memphis
The remainder of the exhibition, spread over two floors comprised displays of clothing by designers including Alaia, Gaultier, Mugler, Castelbajac, Armani, Romeo Gigli, Zandra Rhodes and Katherine Hamnett. There are also items made expressly for Boy George by designer and stylist Sue Clowes, and jewelry made for Thierry Mugler’s collections by 1980s personality designer Billy Boy (also a collector of couture and designer fashion). In addition to the pieces of Memphis furniture in the house galleries, the exhibition also features an array of fashion items by the design group’s members Ettore Sottsass and Nathalie du Pasquier. A final vitrine emphasizes the significance of avant-garde Japanese designs with garments by Issey Miyake and Kansai Yamamoto.
Photo: Museo de la Moda
The culminating gallery display is an impressive room filled with characteristic designer fashions of the 1980s, including cocktail dresses and ball gowns, shoes, bags, jewelry and millinery. In most cases these items are displayed alongside two-dimensional representations of them in editorial or advertising spreads in magazines from the collection.
Overview of the main gallery. Photo: Museo de la Moda
The items on exhibit in themselves present a satisfying look at 80s fashion in all its guises, but the intelligence and aims of the show are made even more explicit in a short video presentation showing to visitors. In the video, guest curator Lydia Kamitsas explains how the exhibition was devised as a way to share and enrich the Chilean public’s awareness of the decade alongside other perspectives. It is important to note that during the 1980s, Chile was under a dictatorship, and the transgressive and original fashions of the 80s were even more outré in this context. The video expands this notion with the commentary of various Chilean personalities sharing their remembrances of what they wore, and in some cases the stir it caused.
Remarkably, most items are displayed alongside their photos in magazine or advertising pages
Clips of the installation process, conservation and storage lab and curators at work add more interest, and are narrated by Jorge Yarur Bascuñan sharing his remembrances of the 80s both in Chile an the UK, which he visited for the first time in 1987. He comments, rather poignantly, that, ‘This exhibition has a lot to do with me – other than just wanting to share it – it feels very personal.’
Indeed, Back to the 80s, gives a dazzling and refreshing look at a decade much maligned, imitated and examined. But most of all it makes the point that beneath all the sequins, ruffles, lycra and make-up, there were real people living through an extraordinary time, and most probably they were dancing.
The exhibition runs until late March, but if a trip to Chile is not on the calendar for you, the museum’s well-organised and extremely attractive website offers up an experience that won’t disappoint. Definitely worth spending some quality time browsing the photos, archive of past exhibitions, fashion timeline and virtual tour. Enjoy, and for an authentic experience of the Back to the 80s exhibit, keep your Walkman tuned to some 80s classics such as “Talking in Your Sleep,” by the Romantics (1983) or “Private Eyes,” by Hall and Oates, both of which played in the galleries during my visit.
Opening nights for Assistant Curators are not all glitz and glamour. Although they are filled with excitement these feeling are often overridden by the madness of final exhibition preparations. Cleaning the floor, dusting showcases and sorting out last minute invite lists are some of the things I have done on opening exhibition nights. This usually only leaves a few minutes to get ready!
In 2011 I worked the opening night of Sydney Design as an Assistant Curator for the Love Lace exhibition. With 134 artists I had to remember what they all looked like, what artworks belonged to which artists, where they were from and whether or not they were attending the opening. In addition, each artist received a copy of the catalogue. It was my job to hand out these catalogues and with 700 guests this was no easy task! Far from a casual night of mingling and socialising, it was spent running around trying to identify the artists among other guests. There was no time for champagne or canapés, instead I think I may have run a marathon during the night!
Rebecca Evans takes a short break from Sydney Design & Love Lace Exhibition Opening, 30th August 2011 Photo: South Bourn, Powerhouse Museum
What to wear to an opening night is also something I think a bit about before hand. Working in the area of fashion and textiles, I feel the pressure to dress appropriately. There are a couple of things I take into account when deciding this: I try and wear something to fit within the theme of the evening (for the opening of Sydney Design and Love Lace I wore a 1960s pink lace dress). It is also important for me not to look like I am wearing the museum’s fashion collection. It’s surprising the number of times I get asked if I do in fact wear the fashion collection, and yet its part of collection management procedure that acquired fashion and accessories should never be worn to preserve them.
Although opening nights can be exhausting and full on, they are one of my favourite parts of working on an exhibition. So far in my working life, nothing comes close to the joy that is seeing all the hard work, countless hours, stress and passion finally come together to make an amazing show! And yes, amongst the chaos there is still time for a lot of glitz and glamour.
Some personal tips for working an opening night:
Don’t drink! You will need all your concentration
Eat a big meal before hand. You won’t have time to eat during the evening
Wear low heals, for all that running around
Make friends with gallery officers and security. They can let you know of any changed running details
First Images: Sydney Design & Love Lace Exhibition Opening, Powerhouse Museum, Sydney, Australia, 30th August 2011 Photo: South Bourn, Powerhouse Museum
