My Godmother sent me this brief article on David Hockney‘s withering opinion on artists such as Damien Hirst who rely upon assistants to “do the work” — Hirst has only painted five of the 14,00 in existence, and he was quoted as saying that many of his spot paintings are produced by others “because he finds it boring to do the detailed work.” I think it’s easy to cluck and tsk and agree with Sir Hockney — how could an artist relinquish responsibility for creation and/or execution to others? My stars, I bristle at the very suggestion!
But let’s step back for a moment and entertain the idea that this may actually be a matter of context and expectations. Some arts — painting in particular — have a history of being conceived and executed by one person. However, even that is not a hard and fast rule. Andy Warhol famously oversaw assistant-produced art at The Factory, and in fact the decentralization and democratization of the creation process was essential to the concept, which often involved the repetitious and machine-like branding of store items. It could be made and reproduced by practically anyone. Warhol hired Gerard Malanga, among others, as his assistant in 1963 and together they made some of “Warhol’s” best known silk screened works of art. Below you see Malanga working with Warhol, and two unidentified assistants playing with the collaborative Flowers while Warhol commands center stage while they literally blend into the background:
There are plenty of artistic professions where it is actually expected that a work is produced with the help of — or even in its entirety by — workers other than the name attributed to the final design. Architects work with teams who specialize in interior stairwells and elevators, energy efficiency, etc.; not every architect involved in the highly complex work of designing, say, the Whitney Museum’s expansion, will be known by the public: Renzo Piano‘s will be, though. And if we’re talking about they physical production of art (or pawning it off, as the case may be), architects do not physically build “their” buildings at all; they simply provide the plans.
Renzo Piano "holds a model of his design for the new Whitney," 2011
This is more like the work of Sol LeWit, who has made his name as an artist by redefining the role of the artist as more of a designing architect, providing plans that disseminate the art-making to anyone who wants to follow his instructions. In the late ’60s, LeWit began a series of now-famous wall drawings, providing clients and galleries with plans for murals they could make themselves at any scale, with any colors, on any surface, displayed anywhere, and labeled “Sol LeWitts.” Some more exacting instructions are miniature versions on paper; other, more conceptual works are described with words, as with Wall Drawing #65. Here are the instructions:
“Lines not short, not straight, crossing and touching, drawn at random using four colors, uniformly dispersed with maximum density, covering the entire surface of the wall,”
…and the product, seen in progress at the National Gallery of Art:
Assistant executing Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawing #65
Though the point of this art is that anyone may create or “finish” them, the instructions, minimal as they are, are proved authentic by being presented on numbered certificates which interestingly include previous installations, as seen below:
Sol LeWitt wall drawing #541 certificate -- click to enlarge
Street artist JR deliberately includes local residents of the often violent and/or impoverished areas he targets for his building-sized photos, acting more like a project coordinator than a street artist (a.k.a. “graffiti artist”). Like LeWitt, he encourages people to take his idea and make it their own — in fact, this is essential to his work. He gained recognition with his posters of eyes and close-up portraits of residents pasted along war-torn borders or poverty-stricken neighborhoods and countries. JR’s latest efforts take this a step further by doing less of the actual art production. In the economically depressed (and notoriously rough) Hunts Point neighborhood in the South Bronx, he collaborated with the Hunts Point Alliance with Children to engage the neighborhood by making residents responsible for beautifying and “taking back” their own neighborhood. He had an open call for portrait volunteers — who would hold photographed eyes of neighborhood mothers — and he taught the willing participants how to make paste and install the enormous portraits he enlarged, effectively rallying the community in an art project and humanizing the neighborhood to residents and visitors alike. Distancing himself from the production of his art has become central to JR’s name which nonetheless brings cache to projects he undertakes. “They started to brainstorm and I just became a witness to the event,” he said. “I’m really just the printer.”
Anthony Ramirez II and Matt Rodriguez on JR Hunts Point project, 2011
JR's Hunts Point project, Bronx, 2011
This concept of authenticity and identity most certainly applies to fashion, too. Fashion designers, particularly those with recognizable labels and certainly those in haute couture, have armies of helpers to mold and build any garment. In Valentino: The Last Emperor (an outstanding documentary from 2008), you can witness “the emperor” Valentino loosely sketch a dress, merely make a bow with fabric on a live model to illustrate how he’d like the embellishment to fall before handing it over to his head seamstress, the formidable Antonietta de Angelis, who will guide her own team of seamstresses who must work backwards to create a pattern, cut fabric, stitch together (by hand!), and then present for critique to Valentino, whose name will, of course, be on the label.
Valentino draping Antonietta's instructions
Antonietta & seamstresses working on Valentino dress
Some fashion designers are more hands-on, some favor pattern-making or draping themselves, and some even sew garments themselves, but this is by no means the rule. And unless you’re phenomenally naive as an admirer or consumer of such goods, you don’t expect the designer to have done much more than come up with the idea of any given dress. I just finished reading Japanese Fashion Designers: The Work and Influence of Issey Miyake, Yohji Yamamoto and Rei Kawakubo (my review here), and the intimate collaboration between fashion designer and textile designer is really stressed, yet it is typically the fashiondesigner whose name is recognized by the general public.
Costuming for films has touched upon this theme of credit: you may remember the recent controversy when the influential Mulleavy sisters of Rodarte demanded costume credits for their seven collaborative ensembles in Black Swan (2010), but Amy Westcott was the official Costume Designer who oversaw all costume choices (ironically, many movie-goers only recognized the Rodarte label, due to their successful self-promotion). Edith Head was similarly credited with the entirety of the costumes for Sabrina (1954), though now-famous Givenchy provided all Audrey Hepburn‘s stunning gowns.
Natalie Portman in Rodarte dress from Black Swan
Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy dress, Sabrina
So I can see why people like David Hockney are dubious of Hirst’s artistic credibility when it seems the dissemination of the artistic process is not actually part of the overarching concept, but instead mere laziness. But money is very much a part of this argument, just as much as fame, or “credit.” People get their knickers in a twist when their concepts of authenticity are challenged, especially if you’re a wealthy art / fashion patron who is presumably throwing around a lot of cash for the satisfaction of not only buying something beautiful / spectacular but something that has retail value and ideally will appreciate in monetary value over time (see my earlier post on collecting). Un-wealthy consumers (we’ll call them “the norms”) are notoriously un-picky about “authentic” artistry, as proven by the rampant fashion knock-off industry.
About a week ago, I experienced research serendipity: while sitting in front of my computer in Sweden, searching the archives of Baker Business Library at Harvard University, I came across this little number:
Two women from Dalarna, from a Singer Manufacturing Co. trade card, 1892. From the Baker Business Library at Harvard University. Photo: uncredited.
I was looking for Boston dressmakers and tailors in business in the 1890s (harder than you’d think), and this popped up! My unofficial interest sneaking into my “official” research.
I’d know that dress anywhere: she is a woman in traditional folk dress (folkdräkt in Swedish) from the town of Rättvik, in Dalarna county, Sweden. This place is close to my heart and the dress is familiar to my eye, since my boyfriend’s family comes from the neighboring town of Boda. Dalarna is also famous for a lot of non-Ikea Swedish things you’ve heard of:
Knäckebröd, or "really huge round cracker" as they are called in English. Here with the very Swedish topping of eggs, red onion, and Kalles Kaviar. From the Leksands Bakery website. Photo: uncredited.
And now: Rättvikdräkt!
What is interesting to me is that this sweet girl, in this same traditional dress, is always the visual chosen to represent the region of Dalarna, although each of the small towns has its own very specific system of folkdräkt. For example, see this tablecloth I picked up at a second-hand store:
Traditional folk dress from "Dalarna" (more precisely, Rättvik, in Dalarna) from a tablecloth. Other counties are represented similarly. c. 1940-60. From author's personal collection. Photo: Arianna E. Funk
Definitely a fun 1940s/-50s take on the same outfit!
On the Singer card, she also represents all of Sweden. Like the Dalahäst.
Here’s another example of of a Singer trade card from the Baker collection:
Trade Card for Singer Manufacturing Co., 1892. From Baker Business Library at Harvard University.
These guys are described on the back of the card as being from the “Extensive Empire of the British Crown “. Interestingly, cards featuring women show them in the act of sewing, or at least with a project in progress. These guys, on the other hand, are “native employees” of Singer in India in their “usual costume”.
I just love finding new sources. Trade cards are hardly a stretch as a costume source, but it was certainly a treat and a surprise to see her peeking out among the Corsets and the Emporiums and the Gentleman’s Hats. I especially appreciate any glimpses into the history of the history and documentation of costume.
Have you found any surprising or unexpected sources recently? Share them below!
Corsetry has been the foundation of all women’s clothing over the ages. It’s important that people should not forget this, elegance requires a foundation…. These days people are more fascinated by the complications of a voicemail on their mobile phones than unseen sophistications. –Mr. Pearl
Video: Diane Pernet, A Shaded View
Mr. Pearl, the corsetiere extraordinairewho humbly denies this title. An unseen voice in Diane Pernet’s video, its calm, precise timber evoking calmer and more precise times past; a craftsman known to work corsets until his fingers bleed; a submissive devotee with 18-inch-waist—such details construct the mystery that is Mr. Pearl, a seemingly otherworldly being born of the melding of the corset, desire and discipline.
I am no sadist. Wearing a corset myself means that I can empathize with my client – making a corset becomes a shared experience rather than the imposition of an overly exacting couturier. Perhaps this makes me some kind of feminist?
His Story: Surrounded by such mystique, biographic data feels extraneous. Although it seems responsible to report here, it hardly seems to matter that Mr. Pearl was born Mark Pullin or that he is originally from South Africa. Only slightly more insightful is word from his brother, a motorcycle mechanic, who said young Mark was bullied in school and during military service. And, what to make of the words of his estranged father, a toolmaker, who told The Daily Mail,“I knew he was gay from the day he was born.” (There is no word whatsoever from his ex-wife, actress Terry Norton.)
Mr. Pearl was destined to be a citizen of the world’s great cities. From London, which he embraced “as soon I could leave my military service,” he moved to New York City, where he began corseting after seeing a photograph of Fakir Musafar, father of the modern primitive movement. Mr. Pearl was then 30 years old.
Fakir Musafar
By 1994 he was telling Art Forum that he was three-years into receiving “a corset education, among other things” by Jeanette, who the publication called “London’s principle disciplinarian.” Since then, except for when he bathes, he has been corseted 24-hours a day. (Art Forum)
He opened his Parisian headquarters in 2002. His personal vision has lead to collaborations with designers such as Thierry Mugler, John Paul Gautier, and Christian Lacroix. He has helped to shape the images and the waistlines of celebrities such as Dita von Teese, Kylie Minogue and Victoria Beckham.
Dita in Mr. Pearl. On wearing the corset, he says, “the body becomes voluptuous and palpably ‘there’ rather than repressed.”
His Style: “To wear the corset all the time, the way I do, is my true discipline,” he explained toVerbal Abuse magazine. He defines his relationship with the corset in no uncertain terms. “It is the corset that is the dominant. If you give yourself over to it, in wearing such a garment you are giving yourself up, losing yourself in the discipline.”
Let’s think about it: Mr. Pearl’s consistent wearing of the corset, combined with his fastidious, dapper appearance separates him from the average man on the street, one who may be dashing off to the local Target in disheveled khakis.. Yet he is a reluctant celeb, shying away from blatant fashion stardom—a bit unexpected for someone whose style naturally garners more than a few passing glances. Initially, research on body modification seems applicable; and there are fabulous scholars in our field, such as Assistant Profs (and friends of WT) Theresa Winge, who has focused on subcultural body modification], and Francesca Granata, who has written on Leigh Bowery. Rather than head toward the idea of body modification as group identification or as distinction from others Pearl heads a little closer to some of the research on fetish, of which there’s been some grand writings including Valerie Steele‘s benchmark book on the subject.
Yet the concept of “symbolic self completion” may be most apt in this exploration. Although research in this area is frequently used to discuss fulfilling the performance of a role in society—such as wearing luxury items to be a high roller or a suit to exemplify an ideal worker—in Mr. Pearl’s case it works in its purest form. He is taking the idea of completion out of the social sphere and moving it internal. He’s ignoring societal expectations and focusing, first and foremost, on his own sense of self.] There is symbolism wrapped up in how Mr. Pearl wears the corset and what it represents to him. It’s about how he sees himself and how he feels thoroughly expressive. It’s only through the action of dressing in a corset and its role in his self- presentation that he feels he embodies his true self. That’s unusual I think, as many of these theories are about doing something with others in mind, and yet Mr. Pearl seems to be doing this solely for himself. This makes him an ultimate Anarchist of Style.
Early this month, I went to my first conference here in Stockholm. Although I am now confident in Swedish, I was glad to learn that most of the faculty at the Centre for Fashion Studies at Stockholm University hail from countries worldwide, and thus English is the diplomatic language for most of the Centre’s courses and events.
In light of this international faculty and student body, it was appropriate that this year’s conference was: Fashion in Translation. The idea of openness and accessibility was evident in the lack of entry fee and choice of venue, the community center ABF House on Sveavägen in Central Stockholm, to encourage a wider audience for this international conference.
Despite the use of English, conference organizers Peter McNeil and Dr. Louise Wallenberg sought to challenge the “Anglophone dominance of fashion scholarship” through the inclusion of geographic areas less often seen in the field. Each speaker took a different and complex angle on the idea of “translation”, working toward answering the directors’ question: Is fashion truly global?
Not apparently seeking a definitive answer, the topics presented demonstrated instead the need for broadening discourse across media, cultures and geographies.
"Portrait of Countess Livia da Porto Thiene and her Daughter Portia", c. 1551, Paolo Veronese. The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore. Used by Professor Welch in her presentation.
Professor Evelyn Welch, of Queen Mary University of London, presented her research on “holding things in Early Modern hands”, an exploration of zibellini and feathered or folded fans in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century European portraiture. Although the emphasis was on the pictorial portrayal of these objects, I was galvanized by her concentration on the action of holding–instead of simply the objects themselves–and the significance this held with regards to gendered rights and ownership in this period. Here, translation is not only from 2D representation to imagining the reality of 3D objects and practices, but also from natural world to cultural construct, and is used as a warning against modern interpretations of early modern portraiture.
I first saw the next speaker, Dr. Djurdja Bartlett of the London College of Fashion, when she presented her book, Fashion East, at FIT last February (reviewed on WT). Here in Stockholm, she spoke about her current work on the Russian fashion legacy, “Russian Sartorial Heritage in Translation and Auto-Translation.” Dr. Bartlett explored a triad of issues surrounding the use of what are seen as “traditional” Russian patterns and dress.
Fancy Dress Costume, 1911, Paul Poiret. A classic example of Poiret's fluid use of "the Orient" in his designs. From the Costume Institute at the Met.
First, Western designers from Poiret to Gucci and Chanel to Lagerfeld have romanticized “vernacular and primitive” Russian themes in a search for “authentic culture“. Secondly, newly (incredibly) wealthy Russian consumers “return the gaze”, buying into Western styles and fetishizing local dress–but only through “high fashion-ethnic” Western interpretations. The third group are young Russian designers such as Denis Simachev, Alena Akhmadullina and Igor Chapurin, who use national heritage and nostalgia as well as a personal experience of the West to “translate” Russian tradition in ironic, mocking, exaggerated ways. Dr. Bartlett creates strong vocabularies in her work, with which she elaborates on the discussion of East-West appropriation.
Ready-to-Wear from Denis Simachev, Fall 2009, shown by Dr. Bartlett in her presentation. Soviet themes, characters, icons. From The Fashionisto and Simachev's website.
This familiar issue was picked up after lunch by Professor Peter McNeil, prolific author and professor at Stockholm University and the University of Technology, Sydney. He spoke about his experience writing texts for an exhibition on Australian design company Easton Pearson, for which he explored the designers’ relationship with “authenticity, intervention and revival”. The company often reprints old fabrics and modifies styles from a perceived “provincial Australia”.
"Campfire Calling" textile, designed by "Aboriginal urban designer" Bronwyn Bancroft 1989, printed by Ersatz Sydney 1993. From the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney.
Much like the Ripsa textiles I wrote about earlier, most of the Easton Pearson product is consumed outside of Australia, and the designers become ambassadors for their country. Are they thus more responsible for their design choices? Another layer of exploitation lies in the use of poor Indian textile artists, and translation becomes manifold as “traditional” designs are interpreted by designers and then worked by foreigners, with impressive skill but no vernacular knowledge.
Easton Pearson "Quista Dress", S/S 2011. From Australian Vogue website.
A further discussion of artistic depictions of dress and drapery was given by Swedish professor Margaretha Rossholm-Lagerlöf of Stockholm University. She spoke about the signs inherent in the wearing of dress, which indicates social status, as opposed to drapery, showing an interest in timelessness, as seen in Early Modern painting. Focusing then on the technical aspects, she also discussed techniques artists used to “translate” the cloth into painted form. In this work were threads from that of Professor Welch, warning of modern interpretation: Professor Rossholm-Lagerlöf cited Ter Borch’s The Gallant Conversation, assumed to be a customer propositioning a prostitute in a brothel.
"The Gallant Conversation/Paternal Admonition" by Gerard ter Borch, 1654. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
In a late eighteenth century French print, it was given the name Paternal Admonition, a (possibly intentional) mis-”translation” of the scene which persisted into the early twentieth century. How do we interpret the woman’s unchanging dress in light of the dual titles?
Professor Patrizia Calefato of Bari University rounded out this largely visual discussion with a presentation on semiotics: “Fashion as Cultural Translation” as relates to war, revolution and resistance. She spoke about the Arab Spring and Autumn, and the clothing systems in three spaces related to these revolutions: street (everyman), square (Tahrir), and (inter)net. In these public spaces, how do Middle Eastern clothing traditions mix with street-and protest-styles, which are so often Western? When do When does fashion become a fashion system, what are the signs of the Arab Spring?
Presentations wrapped up with work-in-progress reports from Paula von Wachenfeldt on Fashion as the Art of Observation, Andrea Kollnitz on Frenchness in German and Swedish Caricature (1880-1930), and Patrick Steorn on Swedish 1960s Fashion in the United States. Such interesting topics–ten minutes of each was such a tease!
Fantastic Sighsten Herrgårdh photo shoot: his signature unisex jumpsuits. Here, he has put his extended family in matching black and white versions, to fit in with the penguins! From LIFE Magazine, Sept. 27, 1968.
With presenters from East and West, Northern and Southern Hemispheres, a lot of geographical area was covered. It would have been maybe even stronger to hear from presenters and/or areas less often represented, although this conference was a good reminder that issues of translation and appropriation are not limited to the more easily identifiable binaries of white/non-white, West/East, colonizer/colonized, etc.
I enjoyed the focus on two major topics, media/art and interpretation/appropriation, and I came away from this conference with an understanding of, among other things, a new approach (actions vs. objects), a new region (Russia circa now), and a wider global view. While the conference far from answered the question, “Is fashion truly global?” (a topic as huge and spherical as the planet itself), I was inspired by the questions raised by the research as well as by the strong, effective, and enjoyable presentations: one of the most difficult acts of translation.
American Friends of the V&A Scholarship and Friends of the V&A Scholarship
The priority deadline for application for 2012/13 is 16th January 2012
The V&A/RCA History of Design MA programme, run in partnership by the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Royal College of Art, invites applications for 2012/13. Applicants this year will be considered for the award of the American Friends of the V&A Scholarship and the Friends of the V&A Scholarship.
The programme is a two-year full-time programme, based at both the V&A and the RCA, offering three specialist pathways at MA level:
Renaissance: History of Design and Material Culture 1400-1650
Asian: History of Design and Material Culture 1450-present day
Modern: History of Design and Material Culture 1650-present day
The small seminar-based classes provide an environment for the study of the aesthetic, social, cultural, technological, economic and political contexts for design. The course specializes in object-focused scholarship ranging across architecture and interior design, fashion and textiles, furniture and product design, ceramics, metalwork, glass, prints, drawings and digital media, giving students direct access to the V&A’s unrivalled collections and the highly specialized art and design practices of the RCA. As well as placing emphasis on primary research and object analysis, it offers a broad-ranging theoretical and methodological basis for the study of design and material culture.
American Friends of the V&A Scholarship
Students applying from the United States of America are eligible for this new award, the American Friends of the V&A Scholarship. The AFV&A Scholarship will be offered to a student applying from the USA who intends to work in a museum after graduating from the V&A/RCA History of Design MA programme. It covers overseas fees for the two years of the MA course and also includes a maintenance grant of up to £3000 per year.
Friends of the V&A Scholarship
Students applying from the UK or the EU are eligible for the Friends of the V&A Scholarship. The FV&A Scholarship will be offered to a student applying from the UK or EU who intends to work in a museum after graduating from the V&A/RCA History of Design MA programme. It covers overseas fees for the two years of the MA course and also includes a maintenance grant of up to £3000 per year.
The awards are given on a competitive basis, judged at interview. Students should indicate their interest in and suitability for the Awards on their application form. The priority deadline for application for 2012/13 is 16th January 2012, and interviews will be held in March 2012.
For more information please contact the course administrator: [email protected].
Katrina Royall
V&A/RCA MA Course
Victoria and Albert Museum
0044 (0)79422574 [email protected] website
In December 2010, Lisa ntroduced us to Barbette, aerialist phenomenon of the 1920s and 1930s famous for his high wire and trapeze stunts dressed as a woman.
“He walked with a tightrope high above the audience without falling, above incongruity, death, bad taste, indecency, indignation.”
—Jean Cocteau
We suspect that Barbette, aerialist phenomenon of the 1920s and 1930s, might disagree with being categorized as an “Anarchist of Style.” Anarchy can be, well, so disruptive. In his heyday, his closest were tout Paris; in 1969 this “spare and very erect man,” cringed as a waitress lay down a spoon with a tad too much noise. “Since those years in Paris,” he told a journalist, “I’ve never been able to readjust to crudity.” [1]
Nonetheless, Barbette came to fame doing high wire and trapeze stunts dressed as a woman. His performances were, in his words, “not just an imitation of a women’s trapeze act, but, rather a mystification and a play on masculine-feminine contrast.” [2] Mirroring the enthusiasm of elite Parisian fans such as Jean Cocteau, Janet Flanner, in a 1930 correspondence for The New Yorker, described a chute d’ange fall as taking on “mythical quality of a new Phaethon deserting the sky.” Jean Cocteau, who considered Barbette a muse, called him “an angel, a flower, a bird.”
His Persona: While clothed as man in daily life, Barbette’s extravagant onstage costumes included a sequined cape and a dress adorned with 50 pounds of white ostrich plumes.
Cocteau described Barbette’s presence on stage as “a real masterpiece of pantomime, summing up in parody all the women he has ever studied, becoming himself the woman—so much so as the eclipse the prettiest girls who proceed and follow him on the program.”[3]
“On stage, against black velvet curtains appeared a young woman in a silvery-gold wig topped with plumes and feathers, with a train of rich lamé and silver lace, undressing on a couch of rich oriental carpets,” wrote author Jacque Damase in his history of the Paris music-hall.
“The woman then rose, naked except for the gems on her breast and belly, and began walking a [low] steel tight-rope. Her eyes shaded green, like some mysterious Asiatic jewel, she walked backwards and forwards along the tight-rope, dispensed with her balancing-pole, and contorted her thin, nervous body as the entire audience held its breath… Then Barbette leapt down on to the stage, gave a bow, tore off her wig and revealed a bony Ango-Saxon acrobat’s head: gasps from the astonished audience, shattered by the sudden brutality of the action.” [4]
His Story: Born Vander Clyde in 1904 in Rolling Rock, Texas, Barbette’s mother changed his life. “The first time she took me to a circus in Austin,” he said, “I knew I’d be a performer, and from then on I’d work in the fields during cotton picking season in order to go to the circus as often as possible.” [5]
After graduating high school, he joined the sister-act, the World Famous Ariel Queens in San Antonio. His first act of gender-bending was pure business. In his interview, one of the sisters explained that “women’s clothes always make a wire act more impressive—the plunging and gyrating are more impressive,” Barbette recalled. “She asked if I’d mind dressing as a girl. I didn’t and that’s how it began.”
As Barbette began to develop his own act, the gender bending took on a more intellectual inspiration. “I’d always read a lot of Shakespeare, and thinking that the marvelous heroines of his plays were played by men and boys made me feel like I could turn my specialty into something unique. I wanted an act that would be a thing of beauty—of course it would have to be a strange beauty.”
After performing across the United States, Barbette traveled to Paris in 1923. He was soon taken up by society and the avante guard. He was cast in Cocteau’s first film, Le Sang d’un Poete (The Blood of a Poet), as one of a group of Chanel-clad theater-goers giving a standing ovation after the suicide of a card player. (He was “absolutely dismayed” upon seeing the film.)
In 1938, after performing at Loew’s State in New York, he was stricken by pneumonia and “a sudden crippling affliction of the bones and joints.” Hospitalized for 18 months, the great performer had to learn to walk again. He continued in the theater, although backstage as a trainer. But it seemed he missed the refinement of the good old Paris days. “I know I’ll be lucky” he told a reporter in 1969, “ if in return for my very handsome salary I succeed in persuading a few young trapezists just not to chew gum during the act. Imagine!”
Barbette committed suicide in 1973.
(Lisa and Monica collaborated on this post.)
For further discussion see:
Cocteau, J and Man Ray. Barbette, 1989
Goldbarth, A. Different Fleshes. Hobart & William Smith, 1979.
Tait, P. Circus Bodies: Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance. Routledge, New York. 2005.
Notes:
[1-3, 5] Steegmuller, Francis. “An Angel, A Flower, A Bird.” The New Yorker, September 27, 1969.
[4] Damase, J Les Folies du Music-Hall; A History of the Paris Music-Hall from 1914 to the Present Day, English translation of the original 1960 French edition, Anthony Blond Ltd, London, 1962.
"I Love Philadelphia," by William C. Ressler, sourced online.
This post is by guest contributor Kelly Cobb.
Sorry to be tardy to class with this report from The International Textile and Apparel Association conference (ITAA) this year. The conference ran November in Philadelphia, PA, home of Rocky, a world class art museum and the Philly Roller Girls who rank 8th in the world! Here is a re-cap for those who could not make it. The conference “Celebrating Inclusivity & Innovation” was held in Philadelphia and planned by Joseph Hancock and Alphonso McClendon of Drexel University. The organization was stellar-kudos to Joe! The conference sessions were complimented by a unique film event DRESSED as well as a tremendous runway show professionally organized by Barbizon Chic Productions.
credit:JKallal
ITAA Lectra Design Award 2011: Jo Kallal, Roiling Waters (a no waste pattern design)
Concurrent to poster and presentation sessions were opportunities to stretch the leg and brain: travel tours to local apparel operations such as QVC, Destination Maternity Corp. and URBN focusing on the wealth of Industry in the Philadelphia region. The highlight for me was watching Steven Stipelman and Linda Tain tag team during a fabulous workshop on Portfolio Preparation. It was clear that we are all in awe of the rare combination of talent + teaching + a healthy dose of repartee.
ITAA Stipelman workshop. Credit: K.Cobb
I live in Philly and was excited to be on my own turf. I want to say this: this conference was expensive, more expensive incidentally if you do not stay at the conference hotel, I suppose this is standard for many conferences. Most participants receive funding from their programs to attend. What if a scholar does not have a program? What about independent scholars and contingent faculty?
These vibrant and quite large populations of scholar (I freelanced and was contingent faculty concurrent with my creative practice for almost 10 years) should have support to sit at the table. In my circle of movers and shakers, a full-time academic is a minority, and it is not due to lack of talent. My most dynamic colleagues are odd jobbing, adjunct teaching, writing and making projects with time that they don’t really have. Am I describing you? I wish we could have met at the table in Philadelphia. With all the talk Inclusivity and Innovation I felt a little like the current game-changers are left out of the formula.
It is clear that ITAA is quite actively evolving by putting energy into cultivating the potentials of the organization in special topic sessions such as The Future of ITAA Marketing and Public Relations: Evaluating Discourse Through Social Media Initiatives facilitated by Keith Nishida, Oregon State University And Cindy Istook, North Carolina State University. For scholars whose research focuses on hybrid design, new media, fashion studies, culture and history there is buzz but not a quantifiable mode of dissemination. With the resurgence of craft and inclination towards fashion in our culture right now, it would serve the organization to find solid means to support fluid contemporary hybrid scholarship, beyond the current journal mode.
We are dealing with this now in my department in an ad-hoc committee that is working toward updating our promotion and tenure policies. Is fashion blogging counted as research as it is not a vetted publication? Can we talk about social practice within fashion because the method is slippery and there is no content analysis capability? How is maintaining a costume collection and exhibiting timely themes from the perspective of the garment quantified as scholarship?
I am touching on two issues here: How to measure contemporary scholarship in a way that champions fluidity and innovation AND how to support the peripatetic contemporary scholar. I suppose what I am left with after ITAA this year is:
What a fabulous foundation and what amazing brainpower this organization holds, what potential exists!
How as a contemporary scholar, who finds herself/himself at the table, can we meaningfully contribute and participate?
How can you, dear reader, be at my table? What are you working on? How can your research be shared and acknowledged and supported?
Next year: Hawaii.
Kelly Cobb is a Philadelphia-based designer who uses costume as a basis for her cross genre work. She is also an Instructor at The University of Delaware, where she teaches CAD, Product Development and Management Studio, and Creative Design Methods.
proposed (Photoshopped) APEC outfits in Hawaii, 2011
I read with some interest the Times article Obama Says Forum’s Costume Photo Is Unnecessary. This refers to the tradition of the 21 members of the annual APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation) forum participating in what has unfortunately been dubbed “the silly shirts photo.” Past photo-ops “have included ponchos and what looked like gowns for pregnant bridesmaids,” Jackie Calmes wrote. Frankly, I’m surprised by Calmes’ snarkiness.
At the first meeting in Seattle in 1993, then-President Bill Clinton outfitted the leaders in leather bombardier flight jackets. This fun photo-op idea subsequently became a tradition to don the national dress of APEC’s revolving host country; leaders wore the outfits for the photo and the rest of the day. Let’s take a look at past ensembles and judge for ourselves, shall we?
1994 Indonesia, Batik shirts
Batik is a wax-dying technique that, in certain regions, can takes inspiration from everyday life like flowers, people, Arabic calligraphy, European bouquets, Chinese phoenixes, or Indian peacocks, marvelously illustrating the influences upon Indonesia as a land. There are many batiks specific to momentus occasions (weddings, funerals, births), and batik is often an integrated part of such ceremonies. During an expectant first pregnancy, mother-to-be is wrapped in seven layers of batik while being wished well (“naloni mitoni”); and batik is incorporated into another ritual when a baby touches the earth for the first time (I just like the very existence of such a ceremony!). Though I don’t have expertise enough to name the batik prints worn by esteemed APEC leaders below, it is easy to see the variety, and fun to imagine the rich history that produced such “classic” motifs.
APEC in Indonesia, 1994
1995 Japan (Business suits)
It was decided that the familiar kimono was too restrictive to be worn comfortably by APEC members, so they all wore suits. Not only disappointing, this excuse is curious to me, as Samurai wore kimonos and had notoriously physically active lifestyles.
APEC in Japan, 1995
1996 Philippines (Barong shirts)
Barongs are very lightweight and white (speaking to the climate of the Philippines), common formal attire for men and sometimes women. The barong was popularized by Ramon Magsaysay when he wore it to his inauguration as president in 1950, and most formal affairs afterwards (reminds me of Josephine popularizing the “Empire” gown at Napoleon’s coronation.) Dubious legend has it that the invading Spaniards forced Filipinos to wear their barongs untucked (Spaniards would wear them tucked) for easy class distinction, and they allegedly took advantage of the barong’s translucency to see if Filipinos were attempting to conceal weapons. Accurate or not, it’s telling that these possible myths about the national garb being used to control the native people endure.
APEC in Philippines, 1996
1997 Canada (Leather jackets)
I must admit, bomber jackets don’t really scream “Canada” to me, but feel free to offer hypotheses of relevant history!
APEC in Canada, 1997
1998 Malaysia (Batik shirts)
Though a similar wax-removal dying technique is used in Malaysia as in Indonesia, there are some major differences. First, depictions of humans or animals are rare because such images for decoration are forbidden in Islam (the butterfly is an exception, for some reason). Malaysian batiks are highly vivid, unlike the earthy Indonesian tones. The Malaysian government has been heavily promoting the adoption of batik as a national outfit, even encouraging civil servants wear it on the 1st and 15th of every month.
APEC in Malaysia, 1998
1999 New Zealand (Sailing jackets)
As an island New Zealand clearly has an oceanic ties, solidified far before the British colonialists arrived by the indigenous and ingenious Maori. When I myself sailed there in 1997 as a high school student aboard the now sunk (!!) Concordia, New Zealand had just won back the America’s Cup sailing prize, and goddamn, the whole country was abuzz with pride. I enjoy the outdoorsy look the weatherproof jackets give the dignitaries, though I’m disappointed they obliterate any reference to the native peoples who sailed around the island first.
APEC in New Zealand, 1999
2000 Brunei Darussalam (Kain Tenunan shirts)
Southeast Asia has developed its textiles over centuries (the earliest recorded mention of cloth-weaving in Brunei Darussalam can be traced to the turn of the 16th century), and motifs include leaves, local flowers, and Islamic patterns. A sad consequence of modernism has been a drop-off in interest in this labor-intensive art. Since 1975, the Brunei Arts and Handicrafts Training Centre (BAHTC) has been apprenticing small batches of trainees in traditional handicrafts such as weaving, but it might be relegated to a curiosity in the not-too-distant future. I wish I could better see the embroidery on the APEC shirts to discern a pattern or significance.
APEC in Brunei Darussalam, 2000
2001 People’s Republic of China (Tangzhuang shirts)
The Tangzhuang is a jacket that originated at the end of the Qing Dynasty (1644–1911), modified from the Manchu clothing Magua. Typical colors are red, dark blue, gold and black, and Chinese monograms with good wishes are a common motif (lovely sentiment, right?). Initially it was only worn by the elite classes, though it has trickled down to be worn by all in modern times (even women, if you can believe it!).
APEC in People's Republic of China, 2001
2002 Mexico (Guayabera shirts for men/Huipíles for women)
The origins of the Guayabera shirt is actually hotly contested — most Latin American countries, Cuba (which declared it its national garment in 2010), and even the Philippines claim it as their invention. There is a Cuban legend that a poor seamstress sewed large pockets on her farmer husband’s shirt so he could carry guavas home. Guayabera shirts are traditionally white or very pale, with 2 -4 large pockets, side slits, and vertical rows of tiny pleats. They’re worn for special and casual occasions all over the Caribbean. A huipil is a tunic / blouse worn by the indigenous women of Mexico, Central America, and northern South America (and by men in Guatemala). The elaborate decorative embroidery may convey the wearer’s village, marital status, and personal beliefs. (I wish we could see more detail in the APEC photo.)
APEC in Mexico, 2002
2003 Thailand (Brocade shirts for men/Brocade shawls for women)
Richly embroidered brocade — material with raised texture — is the most expensive type of silk and was only worn during ceremonial occasions like weddings. This clearly speaks to the natural resources (mulberry trees, food of silk worms) and accompanying silk industry, to say nothing of the Silk Road relationships. To even untangle silk from woven cocoon to useable thread is an absurdly time and labor intensive process, and silk has always been a luxury fabric, worn by the royal court, favored by the Prime Minister’s wife, and often given to visiting dignitaries. Ironically it was an American — Jim Thompson — who revitalized Thailand’s declining silk industry in the 1950s and ’60s.
APEC in Thailand, 2003
2004 Chile (Chamantos)
Similar to a poncho (but apparently not exactly the same), chamantos are decorative garments from central Chili woven from silk and wool, with ribbon edging. Each side of a chamanto is fully finished, and one side is lighter colored than the other for variety; the dark side is typically worn during the day (perhaps when it would absorb the most of the sun’s rays in the chilly mountains). Common motifs depict local flora and fauna such as copihues —Chile’s national flower— and various birds.
APEC in Chile, 2004
2005 Republic of Korea (Hanboks)
Hanboks, colorful, pocket-less garments with sleek lines, are the traditional costume of Korea; it literally translates as “Korean clothing.” Though historically commoners wore hanbok and rulers and aristocrats wore more foreign-influenced designs, they have always been worn ceremonially. Hanboks were designed to facilitate ease of movement and also incorporated many shamanistic motifs, indicative of their nomadic northern Asian origins.
APEC in Korea, 2005
2006 Vietnam (Áo dài)
As opposed to the A-line looseness of the hanbok, the áo dài is a closer fitting silk tunic worn over pantaloons. Originally an 18th century court dress, over centuries it evolved. In the 1920s and ’30s, artists modernized it as a female dress, and in the 1950s the waist was tightened to produce today’s silhouette (men’s fit is still un-cinched). Typically a female dress, the áo dài is imbued with feminine and nationalistic symbolism (interesting, given the unfortunately typical male-dominated politicians in APEC).
APEC in Vietnam, 2006
2007 Australia (Driza-Bones and Akubra Hats)
“Driza-Bone” (“dry as a bone”) is an Australian company specializing in foul weather gear, established in 1898 by a Scottish immigrant. Initially developed to protect horse riders from the rain, they were originally made of oiled sail boat sails. With some irony, the company moved back from an extended international hiatus to Australia a year after APEC gathered; but perhaps the “silly photo” garnered enough attention to spur the return? Unfortunately this photo doesn’t show the akubra hats, but they’re the typical wide-brimmed hats of the Australian bushmen, not dissimilar from functional American cowboy hats which protected the wearer from harsh wind and sun.
APEC in Australia, 2007
2008 Peru (Ponchos)
Protective woolen ponchos have been worn by the peoples of the Andes since pre-Hispanic times. A gorgeously simple and un-wasteful design, they are constructed from a single square of woven fabric with a center hole cutout for the head; waterproof versions may have fasteners to close holes and hoods to protect from heavy weather. Though this is inevitably one of the APEC outfits that’s the butt of many jokes, latex-coated military ponchos have been worn by Americans since the 1850s and were used in the American Civil War as a multipurpose jacket, tent, or ground-covering sheet for sleeping. They have consistently been a part of American military accoutrements ever since, albeit in technologically edgy textiles. Peru had the original!
Peranakens are the descendants of late 15th and 16th-century Chinese immigrants to Indonesia; they clung to many of their traditional ways of life such as ancestor worship, but assimilated with the culture and language of their new land. Traditional designs often incorporate Chinese symbols, and shoes often have European flowers, but depicted in local bright palettes.
APEC in Singapore, 2009
2010 Japan (Smart casual)
Prime Minster Naoto Kan cops out of kimonos once again. (I’m not going to get into the history of the dark business suit at the moment, but frankly, I associate it more with English / American history than with that of the Japanese, yet in light of all the other foreign influences present in previously mentioned national costumes, it should not be so surprising that the two-piece suit has become ubiquitous for businessmen / politicians everywhere.)
APEC in Japan, 2010
2011 United States (Business suits)
APEC in United States, 2011
I really love seeing familiar leaders in the colorful, unfamiliar dress of these countries. It makes me question (again) the prejudices the western world has against color, decoration, and unisex clothing on men — this of course taps into ideas of masculine identity and classicism. It also strikes me that from a distance, when the members are in a line in the same outfits, they look like they’re unified. They look like they’re working together. Whatever differences they may have in skin tone or hair styling or ideology fades to the background, and they appear to be a unified body. And shouldn’t they?
It was especially interesting to me that Obama chose to dissolve the tradition in his own home state, where presumably he feels the most comfortable in the local garb. Chilean President Piñera Echenique was said to have asked, disappointed, during this year’s APEC meeting, “Where are the Hawaiian shirts?” It has been speculated that Obama deemed the bright floral inappropriate for these austere economic times, but I would argue that’s exactly when color and patterns and art and fun are the most needed — to lift our spirits. I recently had a discussion with an activist friend of mine who has deliberately been toning down her wardrobe as she becomes more involved in radical organizing because she fears colors and patterns or anything “fashionable” would be considered bourgeois in her line of work. I pointed out that the most ostentatious dressers I know are typically artists — a group famous for its financial struggles and radical alliances. This may be so, my friend conceded, but within Marxist ideology, there is a long history of vilifying fashion as a non-useful and therefore frivolous waste of energy and resources. <sigh>
But to return to the topic: if the impetus for abolishing the APEC costume tradition is so-called lack of dignity or a fear of appearing foolish, I must protest on three counts. First, politicians are known to be stuffy, conservative (i.e. “boring”) dressers, and it might actually do some good for their public images (and their cause with APEC) to be seen as real people who actually get silly and have fun — like us norms. Second, and this is a greater problem in my mind, this discomfort in native dress, even for a “silly picture,” highlights the prejudices of one culture towards others. “Ponchos and batik shirts might be fine for the locals, but that ridiculous look is normalized where they live!”
Lastly, as a fashion culturalist, I emphatically believe that clothes are imbued with socio-cultural significance. When you stop to ask why the national dress of various countries, even within a relatively small geographical area, are different (and also how they overlap), you are forced to confront the histories of those countries, their natural resources (silk production of Thailand), their climates (heat of Mexico), their wealth distribution (Thai brocade silks), their political systems (Shanghai Mao collars), what kind of work and activities the populations engage in (Peruvian / Chilean ponchos facilitate movement; New Zealand and Australia’s stave off extreme wet weather). Empathize with another man by walking in his shoes? Why not pose for one so-called “silly picture” in another man’s whole outfit? I dare you to not get a new perspective on your own ethnocentricity.
The notion of a fashion anarchist in the U.S. government sounds like an oxymoron, but that’s precisely what makes Secretary of State Madeline Albright stand out, the fact she did maintain a distinct fashion signature throughout her time in Washington. The variety and flair in her array of brooches became legendary, and even generated a museum exhibit showcasing more than 200 of her pieces!
Lauren Michel originally posted this article on December 25th, 2009. She traveled to the Great Dickens Christmas Fair and reported back with some great photos and advice on how events such as this could be incorporated into teaching the history of fashion.
As promised, I went to the Great Dickens Christmas Fair and Holiday Party last weekend. As promised, I made sure to take lots of photos to share with you. Unfortunately, shortly after I transferred the image files from my camera card to my laptop (and erased them from the camera card), my laptop’s screen stopped working. Fortunately, I have a few highlights which my spouse uploaded to his facebook profile before the computer mishap occurred. In addition to those, there is also that great photographic resource, flickr. A number of Dickens Fair-goers extensively document the event, each of the four weekends over which the event runs, and make their images available to the public, often via flickr, so if you want to see more than what I have below, wander over and do a search for “Dickens Fair 2009.”
The Dickens Fair advertises itself as “a Victorian Christmas card come to life.”
The bustling streets of London, immortalized for all time by the mighty pen of Charles Dickens, form the living backdrop of your excursion into Christmas Past. You are a living part of a Victorian Christmas card come to life!
Come wander the lanes of Victorian London, as the glow of twilight settles upon the city. With the scent of pine boughs & freshly baked scones floating in the air and the sound of carolers & holiday merrymakers accompanying your stroll.
The venue for the event, theCow Palace (feel free to snicker at the name, though it is an historic California landmark), was transformed in exactly that way. The entire place was theatrically lit to simulate twilight. The lanes were narrow, the place was scented as advertised, the floor was covered with sawdust, and visitors were immersed in an entertaining street theatre environment. The costumes were a visual feast, with the usual blend I have come to expect at a costume event here in California: the perfectly historically accurate (at least appearing so, from a vantage point of 5-10 feet), the halfway accurate, the “this looks ‘Victorian’, right?”, the corsets over streetwear, goth looks, and lastly, fantasy, namely steampunk.
The cast portrayed characters from Dickens (I saw Jacob Marley’s ghost wandering about, dragging real metal chains, the Ghost of Christmas Present escorting Ebenezer Scrooge, and Fagin and Oliver Twist) and people from most walks of life: the chimney sweeps you see above (often with teeth blacked out), flower girls, sailors, harlots, shopkeepers, soldiers, and of course, young Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Charles Dickens and Phileas Fogg were on the official program, and I saw a Queen of Hearts. Rumor had it there was a George Sand about the fair, and locked on my laptop is a photo of what may be her (alas, perhaps next week).
As a comparison, at California’s renaissance faires, the costumed paying customers are usually distinguishable from the cast by either being of the wrong time period, or heavily inspired by fantasy novels and films, and often of lesser quality construction (looking like cheap Halloween costumes, as opposed to well-fitted, well-constructed, and well-researched historical and theatrical reproductions). At the Dickens Fair, however, it appeared that many of the paying customers were dressed as well as, and sometimes better than, the cast. Most of the time, it was hard to tell exactly who was there as a cast member and a part of the atmosphere and who was there on their own time, and their own dollar (and this is not to imply that the cast are monetarily compensated for their time, as some may be, but most probably are not).
Now that I have given you some of the background, here follow some photos that I think are quite representative of the whole Dickens Fair experience, at least from my point of view as someone who teaches introductory fashion courses, including history of dress. Other photos that I am not showing you (because they are on that laptop I mentioned earlier), show some of the better examples of different styles covered in my history of western dress course. I recommend doing this if you teach history (dress or otherwise), as it is important to cover not only history as it was, but also, in a fashion program, the practical reproduction of historic styles for stage and screen, and in this case, street theater. I look forward to being able to share them with students in the future.
Here are the fair’s Queen Victoria and Prince Albert (with the blue sashes, as you know).
Above is a marvelous example of exquisite craftsmanship by one of our Worn Through readers. Her gown is black silk taffeta. Perfect for mourning, of course.
The steampunk element was well established, with a special 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea-inspired environment/exhibit.
Popular with photographers were the Dark Garden Corsetry shop windows, because they featured motionless live models.
These ladies were in a clothing shop called Miss Darla’s Dolls Gone Wrong. This was the pose they struck (before moving into it robotically) when I asked if I could photograph them. Perhaps you can see the large gold clockwork keys affixed to their backs.
Have you attended the Dickens Fair or other costumed events? What are (or were) your impressions?
Next week: I will be attending a lecture by Kaffe Fassett and will tell you all about him and his latest creative endeavours. His talk is on Sunday, December 27th (two days from now). If you have any special questions you would like me to be sure to ask him, leave them for me in the comments below.
