This Is (Not) A Fairy Tale

We all grow up with fairy tales. It is in the nature of things that our young selves do not notice all that they entail. So it’s fun to return to them in later years – and discover the many layers they contain. 

Secrets d’Étoffes (Fabrics’ Secrets) is a delightful book dedicated to spread the word that fabrics are everywhere, thus also in the stories we hear in our earliest years. And ‘we’ can be taken quite literally: storyteller Anne Lascoux and textile specialist Claude Fauque collected 24 fairy tales from around the world that have at their centre fabrics in all their variety. Interestingly it’s not just raw materials, specific fabrics or clothing, it’s also the skills involved and the quality of craftsmanship that are crucial to the plot of these stories. It seems a pity that the origin of the tales – Europe, Rwanda, Brazil, China, … – is only mentioned in the table of content. But undoubtedly the authors want to emphasize the universality of the ‘secret’ of omnipresent and powerful fabrics. 

Charlotte Gastaut’s illustrations add to the book’s delight.

 

In the collection’s version of Little Red Riding Hood it isn’t so much the hood that takes centre stage, but the girl’s knowledge that it’s washing day. In her escape from the wolf she hurls herself into the sheets of the laundry women – and is saved by floating away on the river. The wolf attempts to do the same but the women pull the sheet from beneath him and he drowns.

 

When the new bride of Bluebeard finds her unfortunate predecessors, she immediately notices that they wear extremely sumptuous dresses. When Bluebeard plans to kill again, she manages to delay his action by appealing to his vanity. She claims she needs more time to complete her attire to perfection. And so he grants her three more hours for stitching. Finally it’s her father who manages to kill first.

My favourite of the collection is the fairy tale which tells the story of How Man Learnt to Spin and Weave. In this Brazilian tale humans have no idea what to do with the raw cotton they collect from the fields. It’s the spider which has the craftsmanship to make it into thread – and generously invites to do it for them. She also introduces them to a great many tools such as needles and bobbins to enable the transfer of her skills. This is reminiscent of the earlier mentioned work of Louise Bourgeois who insisted on the spider as symbol of learning. The tale goes on to bring onto the scene a hurried woman (even in the time that the animals spoke!) who returns early, sees her basket empty and the spider chewing her cotton. Soon the rumour spreads: the spider is a thief! Hurt to the core by the injust accusation the spider decides to leave the country for good. But on her way she stops the first woman she meets and teaches her the craft of spinning and weaving. Again as with Bourgeois, the spider repairs by letting go!

I happily leave the further exploration of these gems to you but the message of Fauque and Lascoux is clear: fabrics are omnipresent in fairy tales in the same way that they are in real life. And they are powerful. In case you’re not convinced yet, what is the tale of The New Clothes of the Emperor (which isn’t actually included in this volume) other than an attempt to escape textile power?

Who certainly makes no attempt to escape textile power, is Colleen Hill who curated a delightful exhibition on Fairy Tale Fashion at the Fashion Institute of Technology of New York and wrote the accompanying book. In view of her expertise, it’s not surprising that Hill starts off with the question of why fairy tales are so important to high fashion. Yet she ends up exploring the relationship the other way round: why are fabrics so important to fairy tales?

The starting point here is not so much, as with Fauque and Lascoux, that many fairy tales include fabrics, but that their relationship has largely been ignored by fashion historians and theorists, folkorists and fairy tale scholars alike. Hill’s book thus fills a gap that has long been filled in the case of film, fine art and design. Besides a comprehensive introduction to the topic, the book offers a series of essays on thirteen fairy tales. After a short summary of the plot, Hill draws out the sartorial references in different versions of the tales and shows their interpretations, both by mostly late 19th, early 20th-century illustrators and by her own selection of existing garments.

In fact, the question of why fairy tales are important to high fashion, is easily answered. In our highly technological, globalized times, according to Hill, they evoke the magical, the utopian. Tales offer an escape from lives that are fraught with anxiety and stress. And fashion designers exploit the accompanying alienation by telling stories that draw on a language we all know. That is, visually at least.

In Charles Perrault’s original fairy tale the prince is surprised that Sleeping Beauty wears old-fashioned clothes, “like his grandmother”. This makes sense when you remember that she has slept for a hundred years before he kisses her awake but no one, hearing or reading the tale, notices. We are all enchanted by the story and by her royal attire. 

The references to Little Red Riding Hood seem the most straightforward. And the most often used, whether in (high) fashion, advertisements or magazine editorials. They’re easily understood, even when there’s no more hood or when the colour is distinctly different. 

The reference is exaggerated in this design by Comme des Garçons (2015)
Here the emphasis is on the dress, the hood has become a mere accessory. Dolce & Gabbana (2014)
Even in yellow, we understand. By Kirsty Mitchell
Here you wànt to attract the wolves! Max Factor advertisement for ‘Riding Hood Red’ lipstick (1954)

 

Cinderella is the tale that most centers on sartorial display, at least in Charles Perrault’s version of it. Whereas fairy tales usually offer little information beyond what’s needed for the plot or for the character’s portrayal as good or bad, Cinderella contains numerous descriptions of dress that are notably detailed. Perrault’s knowledge of the court of Versailles (he lived from 1628 to 1703) and his own fabric sensibility account for this. It would be interesting to discover to which extent this detail is also present in earlier versions of the tale, the earliest extant version being transcribed in China in the 9th century!

Yet taking into account Perrault’s short, poetic moral at the end of Cinderella (as at the end of all his tales), there is a strong suggestion that we have firmly incorporated the visual language of the fairy tales – but have lost sight of its moral pendant which is related to the second question Hill attempts to address.

“Beautiful ladies, it’s kindness more than dress; That wins a man’s heart with greater success.”  (Charles Perrault)

The question as to why fabrics are so important to fairy tales, Hill answers with reference to the power of transformation: fashion is a marker of identity and a vehicle of self-expression. She concludes that fashion is a powerful agent of metamorphosis: “In real life, as in fairy tales, a change in the way we dress can act as a means to reinvent and reimagine the self. We truly can fashion our happily ever after.”

This is too simple though. I’m the first to concede my love of clothing. More generally, women and perhaps increasingly men understand textile power. And as full-blown postmodernists, who do no longer accept a single identity, we gladly embrace the notion that màny vehicles are necessary 😉

But the fairy tale teachings of modesty, humility and subservience – mostly to (young) women of course, are rarely acknowledged. In the original version, Little Red Riding Hood is punished for her idleness: leasurely wandering through the wood, she gives the wolf all the time he needs to eat her grandmother and set up the scene for the next meal. And she can’t save herself. Bluebeard’s wife puts her life in danger by being curious – and she must submit to the action of the men in the story. Cinderella is kind but that doesn’t alleviate her precarious circumstances, let alone procure a suitable husband: the prince only sees her in magically conjured up, magnificent garments. 

In fact it’s strange that so many little girls want to be a princess: they set themselves up to be restrained, physically as in the sleep of Sleeping Beauty or drawn into social arrangements that are pre-existing and strictly normative. Fairy tales warn against the vices of self-determination, pride in one’s own talents and desire. They often contain boundaries not to be crossed or places where one shouldn’t go. And those are defined by someone else. The desires to be fulfilled are not one’s own. And the ‘happily after’, or the definition of what the good life might be, is not made by the often female protagonists.

We ignore in other words the moral messages of the original fairy tales. Which is not to say that subliminally they don’t communicate anymore. Or that their validity is beyond questioning. And that’s why it’s equally important to visualize the message that this life is not a fairy tale.

I made this box installation at a time of great frustration and anger. I felt restrained in many ways, not heard nor recognised in my expertise or sensibilities. The definition of the good life seemed far from my reach.

The original horse is set in bronze by the Flemish sculptor Rik Poot.
Staircase after a fire by the Flemish photographer Karin Borghouts.
A rusted saw and a part of a sanding machine, rough and abrasive.

The colours are powerful and aggressive. The images are mostly bleak, the animals not friendly.

Yet the installation also contains elements of hope and agency. The crinoline (historically an instrument of restraint) is cushioned by the skin (in Dutch: the skirt) of a red union – symbol of a multilayered identity that awaits (self)exploration. The strip of luxurious red fabric enhances the silk caterpillar which is the creator of fine raw materials that count on an imaginative mind, skills and purposefulness. The bright red tape-measure can now only be used by the seamstress herself. What she measures and with what system or principles of measurement, is her choice. And the coat hanger holds the promise that whatever she may create will act as an agent of metamorphosis. So that life may indeed become good.

 

 

 

The quote may not seem very inviting. But it’s above all an appeal to withstand alluring visual promises that carry a implicit, doubtful message of princess-hood. Being a human being, a woman for that matter, is a moral mission. One which deserves serious consideration and dedication. And a possibility to meet on grounds of equal agency.

Crafty Globalization

I must start this post with an admission: I got the timing of my vacation in Pafos, Cyprus, seriously wrong.  

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The rock-hewn necropolis known as the Tombs of the Kings.

 

Let there be no mistake: the area around Pafos is absolutely lovely, of course there is the glorious combination of sea and sun ànd the historian in me was delighted with a terrain of almost 300 ha that is Unesco World Heritage.IMG_1497

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Although very worn, the mosaics are abundant and absolutely beautiful.

 

There was of course a lot of ‘rubble’ too – and this time not only on the ancient sites.IMG_0796 For there is virtually no street in the old town of Pafos that is not broken up in a massive project of public construction works – hence the mistake of my timing: Pafos will be the European Capital of Culture in 2017. 

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Next year one can thus expect an endless lineup of interesting exhibitions, events, all sorts of exciting activities which, with different timing, would have me exposed to serious choice stress. Then but also now the focus of a fabrics blog comes in handy 😉 

Trying to find the bus stops in broken up Pafos I entered a small office, where there was no information whatsoever to be obtained (this resembles the public transport service in Flanders ;-( But my eye spotted a promising leaflet – which set me off ‘climbing’ the streets of the city. 

The Place is an interesting new initiative set to sustain and promote traditional crafts and allow them to survive, including innovative ways to further develop them. Imagine my joy when I discovered these colourful silk cocoons and their application to modern jewelry!

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I was even more lucky: the artist, Angelika Stratinaki was present and explained how she also employed them to continue the old craft of silk embroidery.

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I’ve never seen anything like it. Silk cocoons are cut up in a wide variety of forms and then, carefully because of the fragility of the material, sewn into beautiful designs. I was very happy to buy the bird decoration on the right, a true gem as textile souvenirs go! Alas I don’t seem to be able to find any information on this so-called traditional craft. I have no idea when it started, how broadly it was developed, how many people were and are involved.

What I did find, was a brochure on Pafos 2017. Its motto is “to link continents – to bridge cultures”: the city aspires to be the first European Capital of Culture which will link East and West. The motto also highlights the self-declared need for bridging the differences between the Greek and the Turkish Cypriot communities.

Perhaps there will be an exhibition on the position of Cyprus on the Silk Roads. But what struck me in my textile focus first, is the obvious impact the separation of the island by the Turkish invasion of 1974 is still having. The Cyprus Handicraft Service was set up shortly afterwards in order to provide employment for refugees from the occupied areas who had much experience in the various branches of Cypriot handicrafts. The aim of the Service is “the systematic revival of traditional folk art”. 

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The Limassol centre of the Cyprus Handicraft Service

With shops in all the towns of “the free areas of Cyprus”, the Service further hopes “to promote the revival of our traditional culture”. It is unclear to which extent this includes innovation. Also surprising is that the Service does not actively search for craftspeople. In the shop in Limassol they knew of only one old woman continuing to practice the craft of silk cocoon embroidery- and that can’t have been Angelika ;-).

Cultural antropologist Eleni Papademetriou has done substantial research on the Cypriotic crafts. In Textiles from Cyprus she mentions the omnipresence of silk on the island to the extent that “every family reared silkworms and there was such a supply of silk that in Cyprus rich and poor alike were dressed in silk.” Surely this is an amazing statement! Alas, there is no elaboration on when this happy time has been nor any reference to silk embroidery. 

A documentary to which Papademetriou contributed, does contain some historical periodization: silk appeared on the island in Byzantine times and grew into a substantial economic sector during the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries. Firmly positioned on the Silk Road, Cyprus was the silk manufacturing and trade centre of the Mediterranean and supplied, for instance, the Western Church. I would have loved more historical detail but the documentary mainly shows traditional methods and interviews the last generation of silk producers, a couple of refugees from the North being the predominant characters throughout the film. Documenting the silk crafts in difficulty aims in short to secure their continuity.

This then seems to be the ‘official’ line: the occupation of the North predominates the interpretation of the craft heritage to the extent that survival takes center stage – and leaves very little space for projects of renewal and innovation. The pessimistic tone may in fact discourage a contemporary appropriation of the heritage.

In the epilogue of her book on Cypriotic textiles Papademetriou is equally despondent. She lays stress on the fact that skill used to be interwoven with daily life. “With the leveling of the economy and globalization, this inspired tradition is under threat today more than at any other time. It can, though, be its own unique pebble in the mosaic of not only European but also world art, if we manage to preserve it and to promote it as it truly deserves. We have very little time.” (my italics)

I don’t know whether Papademetriou is involved in the organization of Pafos Cultural Capital. To me it would be obvious that crafts receive ample attention, ideally as part of a larger discussion on what the good life may be and how that may not only require preservation but also adaptiveness, flexibility and an open attitude to the world. The antropologist refers indeed to globalization, but in the gloomy and increasingly prevailing sense that it constitutes an almost insurmountable threat to virtually all our traditions and values. 

Fortunately, there was the Summer reading which I announced in an earlier post: Peter Frankopan’s The Silk Roads. A new history of the world. As the subtitle indicates, this is an ambitious book which sets out to demonstrate how our standard view of Europe as the centre of the worldSilk Roads is ‘only’ a few centuries old. In fact, Frankopan argues, the navel of the world lies between the Black Sea and the Himalayas, in the other words in central Asia. The reason why the author concentrates on the importance of non-European regions is, of course, historical revisionism but perhaps more important for the wide audience Frankopan hopes to reach: a broader viewpoint on globalization – which currently scares us so.  

The Silk Roads (it was the late 19th-century geologist Ferdinand von Richthofen who coined the term Seidenstraßen) present an alternative frame of reference: it is a history of networks, first of all economic but very much religious, intellectual and cultural too. The Mediterranean – with Cyprus at its very east -, is thus the terminus of the Silk Roads that stretched all the way from China across Central Asia. With legion references to neglected rulers, peoples, cities and empires, Frankopan stresses time and again how the world has always been connected, far wider than traditional historiography has led us to believe. Whether exploring the Roads of (among others) silk, religion, fur, slave trade, gold, wheat or oil, the emphasis is on the century-old global exchange of goods, ideas, arts and crafts.  

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The fabrics of the Silk Roads were highly desired all over the then known world. They were sometimes even used as currency!  Here the famous horses of central Asia (8th or 9th century AD).

Three examples of how cross-fertilization influenced what standard historiography recognises as Western historic highlights. 

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Jan Van Eyck’s Madonna by the Fontain (1439). Also note the amazing rendering of the fabrics!

(1) The commercial success of the Italian city states in the ages of the Crusades was largely due to the stability and good relations between the Muslim and the Christian world. (2) The delightful paintings of the so-called Flemish Primitives would look very different indeed without the deep blue, pigment made of lapus lazili, original to Afghanistan and traded over hundreds of miles. (3) The Renaissance had not been possible without the Arabic translations of the classic Greek texts, made available again to European scholars through the intensification of commercial and cultural contacts between East and West. 

In short, the velocity of communication (to which the Frankopan pays surprisingly little attention) may have increased but the ground motive is always the same: the world is so fundamentally interconnected that to reject globalization is to deny the light of the sun. Our traditions and values have always been influenced by developments along or at the other side of the Silk Roads. And to establish how significant those cross-fertilizations were in the past is helpful to imagine and shape the future.

Obviously this doesn’t mean globalization does not inspire feelings of insecurity and fear. But it’s not new, it’s a fact of history – and it’s unlikely that such an ingrained pattern will change in our lifetimes. Wouldn’t it be better then to concentrate our energy on a better understanding of the actuality? On establishing what is possible within the long-standing frame? On imagining flexibility and innovation rather than conservation of what is in flux anyway? I would hope we all can adopt (more) constructive attitudes – which may set us on the path of renewal in many different areas. In Pafos 2017 a contemporary appropriation of Cyprus’ rich craft heritage – and all that it can contain, would be a crafty contribution indeed.

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An attractive update of Cypriot heritage at the airport of Pafos.

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Textile Summer

Summer is about to begin.

For most of us, it’s a time to stop the ridiculous pace of working life, to do all the things we’ve been delaying, to relax & feed the repleted energy levels, to read & reflect, to be creative, to spend time with loved ones, to expand our horizon by visiting places.

Strange though it may sound, now is also the time to think about how we can hold on to the glorious feelings of the coming period. How do we stretch the benefits of Summer into the everyday routines, which will take hold of us far too fast afterwards?

One way of doing this is to make your vacation visible in your everyday life. I mean that literally: well-chosen souvenirs enable you not only to cherish those lovely memories but also to stretch them into the present, which may be drearier than you had hoped for.

I know a lot of people who have given up on finding nice souvenirs during their travels. And it’s true: unless you have the time to go off the beaten tourist track, it’s hard to find anything original – with the power to bring a smile to your face long after the benefits of the holiday have worn out. But because it serves a noble cause, you may want to try once more to find a querky object, an interesting trinket, something unusual which is fun or beautiful, or both.

IMG_0360For some time now I attempt to bring back from my holidays something textile. I came upon this beautiful wall decoration in Izmir, Turkey, where I spent a lovely holiday with a friend in between handing in and defending my PhD. Because she wanted a carpet for her new home, we spent ages in the many tapistery shops of the city. In a slightly dilapidated stately house filled to the brim, she found her carpet and I the wall decoration. The shop owner, who went to great lengths to induce Western tourists to choosing their souvenirs in his shop, watched us carefully as we put different carpets and cushions together. Over a shared cup of mint tea he tried to understand how his styling of colours and fabrics was so different from ours. Most of it is intuitive and I’m not sure I could (or can) express it explicitly but he must have thought our efforts worthwile for to our newly acquired treasures he added the saddlebagIMG_0365 shown below for free. It matches well with a carpet I already had at home (and of which sadly I don’t know the origins). Later I added to the red colour scheme the embroided children’s boots & pantofles I found in Beijing.

 

China is full of textile wonders of course. I saw endless numbers of beautiful silk blouses and scarfs. The one that came back with me, delights me every time I wear it, not only because of the beautiful memories of that memorable trip and the delicious softness of the fabric. The ginkgo theme also resounds with the quality label I established under the name Ginkgo when I worked in an academic publishing house. textile souvenirs

The Egyptian camel and the fabric fish from Lisbon (with a different pattern on the other side) are not so sophisticated but they too make me smile when I walk past them in my home.

 

Iceland is another source of delight for textile lovers. The
government of Reykjavik has banned the retail shops you can find in any city to a mall, thus creating in the historic centre opportunities for local, independent designers. Not surprisingly wool is omnipresent, in any application you can think of. The alternative christmas decoration in dark blue felt has a bright blue festive pattern. The mittens are felted and embroided upon elastic fabric, so they fit all. 

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The colour palette isn’t exactly textile but I couldn’t resist: the collection of about a hundred photographs reminds me of the beauty of the island ànd offers inspiration for interesting alternative colour schemes.

But what if you really can’t find any fabric worth taking home? Now there’s a challenge: find something that you can turn into textile! Once you set your mind to it, it’s surprising how many objects lend themselves to this purpose. It’s a matter of ‘turning on your textile eye’ and tap into the inspiration that surrounds you.

vogeltjesOn Crete I found an adorable little wooden bird which would do nicely for my sister’s bird collection. But before I gave it to her, I made its soft caressible twin. I’m already curious to find out what your and my textile eyes will discover this Summer.

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