The Craft of Use

We’re not materialistic enough. Now here’s a challenging thesis. And it’s convincingly argued by Kate Fletcher, Professor of Sustainability, Design and Fashion at the University of the Arts in London. Bear with me, an incident in a different branch of the arts introduces the theme beautifully.

A strange debate recently in Belgium centred around the question whether or not it’s acceptable to destroy a piece of art – and on what grounds that can be judged.

Tuymans, The Swamp. Photo Karel Hemerijckx.

The internationally renowned artist Luc Tuymans made the floor painting The Swamp for a cultural happening at the end of which the painting would be burned. With the explicit approval of the artist, of course. But the manager of a poverty organisation objected because the painting had an esteemed market value of half to one million euros. After lots of to-and-fro-ing, the painting was not burnt but hacked into pieces. The full destruction will eventually take place out of public sight.

The point seems to be that we cannot deal with transience: intentionally planning that things change, or indeed disappear, meets resistance. But what’s demonstrated most is how we, collectively, are completely stuck in a consumption society – and we no longer understand its implications. The manager interprets art purely in monetary terms. Tuymans himself manages the market very skillfully by creating scarcity of his work. In other words, all parties in the debate are strongly embedded in the consumption ideology of our times. Yet it can be safely assumed that the manager cherishes other values. And the artist claims a kind of sanctuary, a space where different values reign.

This space is where Kate Fletcher situates her work on the Craft of Use. In fact she’s far more ambitious than Tuymans: the point is not so much to create a sanctuary and in the rest of the space continue to go along with the dominant values, but rather to explore already existing practices and ideas and see how far they will get us in the definition and realization of a radically different system.

Fletcher’s focus is on fashion. And what is so wonderful about her project is that it not only aims to reshape the way we think about fashion but also firmly places it in a much broader discussion on sustainability and the good life. I said it was ambitious.

Fashion is the poster-industry of consumer materialism, frivolous and superficial, hence rather easy to dismiss. Yet Fletcher insists on fashion as a true cultural force, in the sense both that it’s the carrier of the dominant values of our society and that it has the potential to act as a vehicle for true, deep change. Fashion fuses fundamental human needs, the provision of livelihoods, creative expression, social processes, the material dimensions of well-being and pleasure. On the downside, it fully illustrates the dominance of market thinking and the inability of efficiency improvements to outrun the negative effects of economic growth on labour conditions and climate change.

At the heart of The Craft of Use lies a very simple idea of change: pay heed to the tending and wearing of clothes, favour their use as much as their creation. And in so doing adopt a more ecological idea of fashion that recognizes what happens outside the market as rich, powerful and valuable. The subtitle makes it plain: this is the search for “post-growth fashion”. There we have it: the point is to change the entire system.

We’re all “locked-in” into dominant ways of thinking about fashion, about economics and society.  We find it normal to engage with fashion by exchanging money for product. We chase the thrill of a new purchase, only to feel deflated at home where the satisfaction rate rarely holds out. We also expect the clothes to look dated or even fall apart in six months. We don’t hesitate about discarding rather than adapting or repairing – and so we consume again. And the ever growing volumes at an ever increasing pace neutralize the ecological efforts of the fashion industry.

And how do we feel when discarded clothes become art? Monika Droste, Transfixed Clothes (1981), Collection of the Wallonie-Brussels Federation.

To return to the challenging thesis at the beginning of this post: much in the same vein that the Dutch designer Christien Meindertsma argues for the knowledge about the origin of raw materials, Fletcher claims we’re not materialistic enough because we don’t really care about the materials or indeed the garments. If we had respect and appreciation for the intrinsic material qualities of things, we would treat them differently – with attention and care. But consumer society suggests that it can fulfill our needs, for symbolic value for instance or social meaning. Hence the continuous replacement purchases. In that dynamic the clothes’ materiality, their intrinsic qualities aren’t relevant. To the industry the post-purchase lives of garments are equally irrelevant: the sooner it can seduce us to consume again, the better. 

This to Fletcher is the crux of the system: if the focus continues to lie with the product, we’re reduced to being – and remaining passive consumers. We hardly exercise our judgement. It’s hard for instance to get any information about the conditions in which the garments are manufactured. We let ourselves be distracted so that we also don’t evaluate our own needs and how they relate to consumption. We don’t actively engage with things. We don’t exercise our awareness. And thus neglect the development of our sensitivity to ethical responsibility.

When in other words consumption is such a powerful force, and it generates passivity in fashion activities, it also spreads that attitude to other domains. And we no longer see what its effects are: we’re discouraged to exercise our judgement in other areas of life too, we fail to identify our real needs, we feel powerless to act in the world. We’ve interiorized the idea that the market defines value – there is no alternative. Which also means that ideas or practices that cannot be marketed, have no value – remember the Tuymans debate.

Fletcher argues that we must resist this dominant ideology. We cannot accept that our lives are assessed by the market alone. Our aspirations and the simple (and not so simple) things that enrich our lives, the engagement with others for instance, do not connect with the economic logic of continuous growth. We thus urgently need an alternative discourse, both to solve the problems of sustainability and to realize a qualitative interpretation of human well-being.

If this sounds like a major task, Fletcher doesn’t deny it is. But she offers us the concept of use as a simple way in. For keeping garments in active use can involve something as simple as approaching a piece with attention and imagination. It’s inconspicuous consumption. It’s appreciating resources in greater detail, stretching them qualitatively and quantitatively, approaching them creatively, folding them into others’ lives, infusing them with human warmth, memory and storytelling. 

Research has revealed that the post-purchase life of a garment is the biggest source of both individual satisfaction and environmental impact. This is why use must be at the centre of post-growth fashion. 

Craft of use refers to a set of practical skills, knowledge and ideas associated with using clothes. They’re little noticed and within the current fashion system little prized. What Fletcher and her team do in the book, is bring together stories and portrait photography that illustrate and value the practice of use. And the main point is that there are already many “alternative dress codes” out there: people buy secondhand, they share use or transfer clothes between generations, they mend their garments, “open and adjust” them, cherish the patina of use, etc.

This is what satisfaction with use looks like.

Let me share my two favourites from the book. One person suggests that with a new dress you should also be able to buy an extra piece of fabric, so you could adjust the garment to your own wishes. Showing her own favourite eveningdress, the woman in the photograph on the right tells the inspiring story of a woman in her eighties who at some point had decided not to buy any more clothes. She’s worn out the rest of her wardrobe and now only wears eveningwear.

What the book illustrates above all, is that many people already have, in their own ‘ordinary’ way, broken through the dominant economic system. They listen to their own needs and preferences, they use their awareness and judgement and bring them into the world. They’ve thus become agents in their own interpretation and practice of fashion.

Fletcher insists that the designing process itself must include users’ wisdom and produce more flexible products. Interestingly, at the end of World War II, the Make Do & Mend movement already inspired material resourcefulness with army blankets. Half a century later the A-Poc project presented the fascinatingly flexible design of Issey Miyake (1998). 

This is disruptive stuff. Once beyond-the-market activity is included to stretch the definition of fashion, the power balance shifts. Production becomes only one part of the system, existing market priorities lose their dominance in favour of alternative networks that favour non-utilitarian, non-economic values.

Use is resourceful and satisfying. It infuses the system of fashion with different goals such as self-reliance, diversity and quality. To use is to act, to forge a more engaged future of our own choosing and in so doing provide us with an opportunity to develop the capacity and skills to navigate our own route not just through our fashion choices, but also through life: we become the makers of alternative routes. Consumers become citizens who bring to the fore different interpretations of identity, agency and the good life.

What I find most fascinating is that this is about ‘ordinary’ people. It’s not grand theory: it’s practical wisdom gleaned from individual, subjective lives. Its practitioners may not even be aware of it but they fulfill a pioneering role – which can inspire us, precisely because it’s so much in reach of us all. What’s more, this “clothing competence” can equally spread out and support growth in our character for instance and in our choices as citizen. Stories of “material resourcefulness” thus become tiny lessons of change – in the various domains of life.

Fletcher makes the association with craftivism which is an explicitly political approach. Obviously, there’s also a strong reference to the ideas, practices and values of craftsmanship such as I have been presenting in this blog. Or to summarize the whole argument really simply: after a garment is sold, the user is in charge. Fletcher calls all of us to use that power. The idea and practice of use is a path to approach not only fashion but life itself differently.

Let me conclude with two practices of my own. Fletcher insists that she “present[s] the practices of garment use not as a neatly packaged ‘how to’ list for using things well and with satisfaction, but as rich ground, as compost, in which ideas and practices of use can be cultivated.” With her, “I leave it up to you to care for what grows here, to train it in different directions, to enjoy its blossom, to cross-pollinate its flowers with new ideas, to eat its fruit, share it with others and replant its seed in new and different ground.”

My sister knitted one jumper in her life. And when it was finished, she didn’t like it – and gave it to me. Years later moths liked it very much.
What I could save, got recycled into a festive attire for a new member in my sister’s happy bear collection.

 

 

Note the buttons above left, the zip on the right and the fringes in the foreground, each belonging to a different secondhand skirt. 
I very much hope I can wear this new trinity in my eighties.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Invitation of the City

Donald Trump called Brussels “a hellhole” and Belgium “a beautiful city”. Twice wrong, Mr Presidential Candidate.

Of course there are problems in Brussels, as there are everywhere. But it is a beautiful city. Blaming the lack of assimilation of the Muslim population as Trump did, is miscasting the issue. Essentially this is about the fate of multiculturalism for us all, or to put it more simply: how do we see the contemporary city and how does – can it relate to the good life?  

Overall Flemish people prefer to live in a village or in suburbia. Historically this was stimulated by the 19th-century governments which were predominantly catholic and which feared the socialist influences of the city: they supported more rural communities with initiatives such as cheap train tickets. Flanders thus has a tradition of commuting to work and of living a long distance from it (as far as that is possible in Belgium). Hence significant traffic problems which seem to worsen every month. More broadly the so-called ribbon development (a textile reference by the way) causes problems which will only increase in the near future: it tests the environment obviously but also public services that are already strained such as the post, buses and energy distribution. The Flemish Master Builder Leo Van Broeck therefore calls for a ‘condensation’ of our living together.

Perhaps what’s needed above all is that Flemish people get to love the city. Many of them work in Brussels but they commute in and out: they don’t know the city very well. Maybe they got lost once too often, both literally and linguistically, with Dutch being rarely spoken. Or perhaps they associate it with the complicated politics of Belgium and more generally, with problems that are seen as typically urban. Brussels is decidedly multicultural. And that unmistakenly adds to the unease. After the terrorist attacks of March 22 Brussels held an international campaign  #CallBrussels to convince foreign tourists to come to the capital of Europe. Why not organise such a campaign for the Flemish as well?

I was/am lucky: my family often went to Brussels and I associate it with culture, history and art, with good food, fun and discovering interesting and exciting things. Brussels is a great place for exploration. So let me try and share some of my enthousiasm with you. I’m leaving out the standard tourist attractions, delightful though they are. It’s both a humble and a more ambitious tour I’m suggesting. Ambitious because I hope to show how the city invites us to reflect upon some of the components of the good urban life, humble because it’s based on what I encountered on an ‘ordinary’ day in Brussels in terms of colours and fabrics. The day was not so ordinary though: I spent my recent birthday in Brussels ;-).

I found the city most welcoming to my purposes: already at my arrival in the Central Station of Brussels, enormous socks (introducing ‘Atelier Veritas’ of the eponymous chain which sells among others craft materials) promised me a rich textile harvest.

img_1040
By the way, the men in green (right) were part of yet another day of action against
img_1041
the government plans about ‘adaptable’ work which I mentioned in my last post.
img_1050
The city supported my festive mood.

The day was truly festive: I followed a rich trail of secondhand and vintage shops where I found a few really nice pieces to add to my wardrobe and to start dreaming up new box installations and other craft projects. I also visited the Vossenplein, literally the Square of the Fox but in French called the Place du Jeu de balle. This is part of the charm of Brussels: why use literal translations when with two appelations you can refer to the complexity of history? In this case it was the metal factory Usine du Renard that is reflected in the Dutch name, the square that came in its place was reserved au jeu et à la récréation (to games and recreation) and included a trail for kaatsen or jeu de balle, a ball game which resembles the Basque pelota.  

vossenplein4vossenplein3Every day the Vossenplein holds a market which is a delight for treasure hunters like me, with all sorts of objects and trinkets, it seems you can find anything in any material you may want. Some patience and persistence are necessary for there is little order in the amazing offer. And haggling is part of the fun! 

 

img_1063
Textile work in an art gallery close to the Vossenplein.
img_1052
Street art, emphasised by the contrasting colour of street machinery.
img_1059
A yarn bobbin used to set off beautiful jewelry.

I also enjoyed being surprised by textiles and colour virtually around every corner. 

 

Even on the street floor colour is omnipresent, like in these tiles which I found all over the city. They must be part of a series, inserted in the streets as part of a particular project? I don’t know but they’re fun.

img_1054img_1066img_1062img_1068

 

 

 

street-craftNear the Vossenplein I found an intriguing book on Street Craft. On a terrace nearby I started leafing through the book and realised I had given myself a great birthday present! Just before my coffee break I had taken photographs of glass containers which featured historical figures in elaborate attire: were they meant to promote selective waste disposal? And then I discovered in the book a similar project in Berlin which aims to embellish ugly everyday objects in order to make people smile.

img_1055img_1056

img_1185
Metalheads (2007) by Mentalgassi, a Berlin collective which regards the city as its playing ground.

 

 

 

 


img_1086I found another historical figure, in a window of a building for rent. Is it really the case that people find such images attractive to the point that they can be encouraged to take action? How intriguing!      

I was now set on finding more examples of urban (textile) art which according to the book aims to reinvent the public space. The environment is very much part of the creations that want to embellish the city at the same time as engaging the community of ‘ordinary’ passers by into claiming that public space.

Street craft invites curiosity and engagement.

What to think of this car for instance? It seemed it was parked in its drab Brussels street, simply to add wonder and fun to it.

img_1075
Indeed, why not use the back of a car to add colour to the street?
img_1074
Of course the front seats can’t stay behind. And the crown on the work:
img_1072
a dashboard full of animals & flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

To my delight I also came across urban crochet. This type of street craft, often called yarnbombing, covers buildings, trees, bike racks, statues and much more in crochet or knitting. It’s guerilla action primarily aimed at eliciting a smile from the unexpecting passer by. The creations are by definition temporary: they endure the effects of wind and rain.

img_1042
Yarnbombing
img_1044
in Brussels.

And they depend on the goodwill of the public to extend their ephemeral existence for as long as possible. Yarnbombing is a new phenomenon that arose in the new millenium. And it can be found everywhere.

 

img_0899
Crocheted circles on the bridge of 
img_0900
the Amsterdam Eye.
sayeg-bus-london
The yarnbombing of this bus in London took Knitta Please 4 days and a tón of yarn.

 

 

 

 

ishknits-sculpture3
a street sculpture by Ishknits in Oakland.
helsinki
Steps in Helsinki and

Yarnbombing is fun. It transforms existing street furniture into colourful statements that indeed make you smile.  But there’s much more to it. Not surprisingly the creators of textile street craft are mostly women, extending their traditionally intimate sphere into the streets. Often working in collectives such as Knitta Please, Craftivist Collective or Ishknits, these women reinterprete domestic techniques by playing with subject, context and proportions. And the reinterpretation is often gender inspired. Not only has street art, long dominated by graffiti, tended to be very male, the public space itself carries a masculine culture. To encourage people then to reconsider their daily environment is to open the possibility of reinterpreting its gender stereotypes. And much broader, street art invites us to reimagine a more inclusive public and community life.

The street art of women such as Olek or Sarah Corbett of the Craftivist Collective wants to contribute to the public debate. The visual impact and the immediate character of their creations encourage the public to think, to question, to participate. The Polish born, New York based artist Olek wants to bring colour and life, energy and surprise to the public space. But she immediately acknowledges that for many, especially living in the city, life is not easy. With the old fashioned crochet technique she often uses she represents both the complexity and the interconnectedness of modern times. And she insists on strong public messages about large political themes such as the bank crisis, climate change or the condition of freedom. By thus ‘invading’ the public space she hopes to get people out of their comfort zone into a more activist stance.

olek-still-proud3
‘I’m Still Proud to Say What I Do for a Living’.
olek-underwater-bombs2
A yarn call for environmental awareness.
olek-freedom
‘There is no such thing as part freedom’.

 

Liverpool based Sarah Corbett also addresses the ambiguities of modern life. She wants “to make people stronger and to encourage them to use their talents and possibilities to become part of the solution rather than of the problem.” It’s safe to assume that she defines “the problem” rather differently from Donald Trump. But it’s equally city related and it includes the many forms of social injustice – or the question of the quality of collective life. Corbett uses cross-stitch because in true craft tradition, she likes the fact that it gives her time to think. And what she thinks about is what people may need to feel more at home in the city. Her suggestions, spread throughout the city in the form of gentle cross-stitched messages, focus on agency: it’s passively undergoing change that hurts people and makes them feel like a refugee in their own city. Corbett wants to reach out to people and empower them to help change the world, one stitch at the time. 

Corbett shows how craft can be the tool for positive activism: because it’s naturally slow and quiet, it allows the crafter to reflect deeply upon the issues he or she wants to address. And when craftivism shows itself in the city, it invites conversation. Passers by often respond spontaneously: they feel the invitation is safe and respectful. And it works! Lots of people feel empowered and they join in, whether it’s through stitching themselves or spreading the messages via social media. Corbett now trains people into “gentle activism” that is encouraging and hopeful. At the heart of Craftivism is the belief that even humble actions can be transformative. The transformation will be slow, in the way that crafting is. Yet as the confidence in our own agency grows stronger, it can more effectively affect the public world that is indeed complex.

Or how an exploratory tour through Brussels sparks reflection upon what the good (urban) life may consist of. And what it may require from us. I can’t wait to see an explosion of craft messages in all our streets. 

corbett-refugee

corbett-change2corbett-change3

 

 

 

 

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world.  Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

 

The Enlightening Flow of Craft

When I was ten, I was determined to learn lacemaking. I can’t remember where I got this from, I knew no one who made lace. At a guess I must have gotten intrigued at one of the many exhibitions to which our parents took us. I was delighted to discover this was a craft that could actually be learnt. And my mother found an elderly lady in her native village who was prepared to teach a singleminded girl. These were the seventies, with a revival of interest in traditional crafts. Alas, the setting was the putting on display of people exercising these crafts in distinctly artificial settings.

IMG_0489
The shawl was distinctly not traditional but crocheted by a family friend – and my favourite for years.

An obligatory part was the ‘dressing up’ in what were supposed to be authentic clothes. Initially I made very traditional lace too, think trimmings to embellish a posh handkerchief – not very exciting for a ten-year-old. But apparently I enjoyed it, so much so that I made a clay self-portrait of which, amazingly, the head and the lacemaking cushion survive up to this day!

IMG_0507

 

 

 

 

 

Later I followed lessons closer to homeIMG_0460 and there the emphasis was on applying the traditional methods in more contemporary 
designs. I have very little evidence of this, as most of what I made, I gave away to anyone who happened to have cause for celebration. Surprisingly, I didn’t think then to document my lacey efforts for a future blog 😉 

I haven’t made lace in years, I have no idea whether I could still do it. Is it like riding a bike, something one never unlearns? I continue to find lace appealing though and I can rarely resist it, when I come upon it at a car boot sale for instance. I have old lace and new, very fine and rather rough, and, of course, in a variety of colours, sizes and patterns. I find it comes in handy when a skirt found in a secondhand shop is lovely – but not quite long enough to my liking. More generally  I can certainly recommend it as an easy addition to achieve that je-ne-sais-quoi with your outfit!

022_20

IMG_4687I also continue to include lace in my craft projects, whether it’s in jewelry,
mittens and shawls,
or home decoration.

016_14
These felted angels which I presented at a crafts’ fair around Christmas, happily flew off, intent to spread joy elsewhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although the process has been slow, I’m delighted that crafts are finally shedding their old-fashioned aura (including the silly clothes!) and are being incorporated into a creative context which treasures craftsmanship  and sees it as a source for, why not, innovation. In the Netherlands there is the Crafts Council which aims for just such a upgrading, with for instance Dutch Darlings, a competition to create innovative and sustainable souvenirs based on Dutch craft expertise. The Bruges based NGO tapis plein is recognised by the Flemish Commission of Unesco as the expert centre for participatory heritage and examines (among others) how cultural habits and practices from the past can affect present society. The current focus is with ‘intangible’ heritage and the resulting publication A Future for Crafts brings together an impressive anthology of Flemish craftspeople, techniques, practices and inspirational quotes which demonstrate the contemporary strength of crafts.

For me it was reading Richard Sennett‘s The Craftsman which alerted me to the powerful effect crafts can have on one’s life. Sennett writes in detail about the grounding of skill in physical practice. Sennett2He identifies three basic abilities as the foundation of craftsmanship: the ability to localize, to question, and to open up. This is about ‘focal attention’, about remaining curious and being open to shift habits & prejudices in the tradition of the Enlightenment. When the brain deploys these various capabilities, it processes in parallel visual, aural, tactile, and language-symbol information. This in itself offers attractive perspectives of creativity, supported by the most recent neurological findings about many, strong circuit connections in the brain. Sennett also praises slow craft time as it allows for the appropriation of skills and carries the promise of evolution and growth. Moreover it encourages reflection, imagination – and thus innovation. Surely these are all talents that the contemporary ‘skills society’ seeks?

Sennett relates his valuation of craftsmanship to Western history and its fault-lines between artist & craftsman, mind & matter, or theory & practice, with the latter part of the equations consistently being dealt a rough deal. Divergently Sennett presents craftsmanship as a practice of ‘the good life’ which stands in marked contrast to the values that are predominant in our world today. Most specifically, ‘craftsmanship names an enduring, basic human impulse, namely the desire to do a job well for its own sake‘ (my italics). Inherently (wo)man strives for quality: it’s an instinctive aspiration which generates genuine satisfaction. This is what Peter Korn, a reflective furniture craftsman, values when he explores ‘why we make things and why it matters’.korn As anyone knows who practices craft in any form, it brings about awareness and patience, it engages deeply and allows hope for progress. In short, it energizes to the point of creating flow as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has defined it. This is an ‘optimal experience’ of deep enjoyment and creativity, flowof total involvement in and connection with life. This is also what transforms our experience of time and which the Dutch philosopher Joke Hermsen identifies with the Greek god Kairos: sharpened by craftlike talents such as awareness and concentration,kairos it is precisely the quality of the moment which releases otherwise hidden possibilities. Time then feels benevolent because it’s fuller and more engaging. It also opens new perspectives of renewal and growth. 

Yet in reality people mostly experience the tyranny of time – which closes the potential of authenticity and creativity. And utility rules, which implies that for most people the consequences of their work are outside the work: their activity is merely a means to an end – which they may find difficult to connect with. There is a lot of talk about ‘workable work’, yet so many suffer from poor psychological health including burn-out. This then is what I consider to be the import of the renewed attention to crafts: if the recent re-interpretation includes, as it should, reflection upon the good life, we may indeed hope for ‘innovation’ whereby practices from the past can activate their powers to transform for the better our contemporary lives.

The Enlightenment believed that everyone possesses the ability to do good work of some kind, that there is an intelligent crafts(wo)man in most of us. Sennett argues that that faith still makes sense – if we so choose. As an Enlightenment historian I find this argument very compelling. And I do experience flow and kairos in the making of the earlier mentioned box installations. To close the circle of this post, I hope to illustrate all this with an installation which includes lace. The matter of the installation is the result of craft practice, its ‘mind’ aims to focus attention towards one of the ingredients of the good life. 

teder 1

The ‘theme’ of this box installation is tenderness, with the quote reading:

teder 8
An appeal to be delicate & gentle.

 

It’s in your self-interest

to find a way to be very tender.

I made the installation at a time when I was not experiencing too much tenderness in my own life. Hence I wondered what that meant to me, which characteristics did I associate with tenderness, what would it look like if visualised? This required my ‘opening up’ to the dismal thought that perhaps it was present but I simply couldn’t see it? Hence I included the braille. Or was I myself being too prickly – hence the hazelnut husk-, therefore aloof to the power of tenderness? Further exploration revealed something distinctly fragile: tenderness exposes, it renders both the donor and the receiver vulnerable – which is a quality our world does not value very much. I visualized this with a beautiful porcelain schard which I found carelessly discarded in the street, the fragile skeleton of a Chinese lantern (Physalis alkekengi) and an intent little girl in between. The longing for tenderness may be a trap, as if it were a cage which promises comfort but actually means closure away from life. In the right dose though and with the right intentions tenderness is sweet – also, notice the texture of the sugar stick! And it’s worth aspiring to, because of its potential to empower the people involved. The pearl and cristal hanger refer to the richess that tenderness can add to our lives.

IMG_0573
It may require craftsmanship to see & feel the power of tenderness,
IMG_0561
to appropriate its fragility & vulnerability,
IMG_0568
and to be fully open to its sweetness, worth & richess.

 

 

 

 

 

Lastly, of course, tenderness is delicately soft, hence the central photo of a child’s lace dress. Obviously my visualisation is particular and not exhaustive: what would the intelligent crafts(wo)man in you add in the open space left in the middle?

teder 1IMG_9585

Clothes on Display

It happened naturally, almost without me noticing it.

Clothes are everywhere in my apartment. The photographs in a previous post already suggested a serious collection of fashion. And books and magazines related to textiles in the widest sense of the word are also present in significant numbers. But those are subjects for later posts. For now I want to suggest an alternative praxis which may find its way into your own home. With little effort, I promise!

IMG_0257
A friendly gatekeeper greets anyone who climbs the stairs.

 

To adapt a well-known expression to our current needs, all’s well that begins well.

So visitors to my home are ‘warned’ even before they enter:

 

This is the crux of the matter: I think (some) clothes are too beautiful to be hidden away in closets. So I let them out, literally, to do their thing – which is to give us joy, because of the happy amalgamation of colour, shape and style.

IMG_0260
A vintage kimono combined with the dress my godmother wore to my parents’ wedding attune beautifully with the oriental green house I painted in the upstairs’ corridor.

IMG_0297

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another great thing about decorating with clothes is that you can update your interior when and as often as takes your fancy, without having to think about new paints or wallwapers, let alone about finding time to do the decorating. Changing the jacket on a manekin (a word of Dutch origin by the way) doesn’t take valuable time away from, for instance, adapting that lovely dress you found for no money in a secondhand shop to your own measures and tastes. Speaking of which, since June 1 ecocheques can be used in Belgium to pay for secondhand clothes – which is a great way to promote the sharing economy.

Even the bathroom doesn't escape.
Even the bathroom doesn’t escape.

 With its focus on sustainability and social responsibility experts say this alternative has staying power, which I for one hope to be true. Without getting too highbrow about it, when we all contribute, we make it happen. So why not give it a try?Decorating with clothes is simple. It doesn’t require much time or effort. It adds personality to your home.

And it can be applied anywhere:

 

William Morris (1834-1896) already understood:

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful,      or believe to be beautiful.