I decided to use my blog: www.bonesboudoir.com to keep a virtual scrapbook about what I learned and wanted to expand upon from class. You can click on the links below to see more.
-Carolyn J Cei
I decided to use my blog: www.bonesboudoir.com to keep a virtual scrapbook about what I learned and wanted to expand upon from class. You can click on the links below to see more.
-Carolyn J Cei
French philosopher Albert Camus said, “Without culture, and the relative freedom it implies, society, even when perfect, is but a jungle. This is why any authentic creation is a gift to the future” (Rabalais). On April 23, 2014, my grandmother Joan Ellen Brown-Breen had gone from alive, to being a memory. So, I think of that gentle woman, dressed in a classic Land’s End blue gauge cardigan and bright white tights sitting across from the many meals we endured. I picture her making sure her lipstick stayed on after her sip of hot coffee and fidgeting with a handkerchief tucked under the white collared sleeve of her button-down shirt. And what is embedded in my grandmother’s demeanor is a part of a culture, a history, and a materiality of that handkerchief that marks a memory. If Camus believes in culture bringing about a future, my grandmother has set up a gift for me, and the magic of cloth and dress behind those we have lost can set a philosophy of not only remembrance, but fashion living beyond the person in death; in that sense, there is a death in fashion.
The past life of cloth does not end, as a person’s life does and in that death, the cloth remains as a symbol. Umberto Eco and Peter Stallybrass capture how clothes go beyond the idea of objects to become symbols of past and present motions. To start, we must understand how these symbols are interpreted in a broader sense. Eco’s “Social Life as a System”, shows a clear emphasis on fashion being used as codes, messages and symbols that are acted through gestures and demeanor. He states: “I am speaking through my clothes…Obviously, fashion codes are less articulate, more subject to historical fluctuations than linguistic codes” (Eco 144). His comparison of semiotics in clothing are interpreted just as easily and frequently as our movement is; as well, the history of fashion changes our interpretation of how we decode these symbols. Fashion symbolizes class and economic standards. It divides us in social boundaries, but somehow is our common thread, as well. To understand these linguistics, Eco states: “The task of semiotics is to isolate different systems of signification, each of them ruled by specific norms, and to demonstrate that there is signification and that there are norms” (Eco 145). Using these norms as a starting point of comparison can help us in decoding each other’s symbols and signs. Just as Eco also echoes in “Lumbar Thought”, a pair of jeans transformed his demeanor and he developed a new set of symbols embodied in his physical movement.
Stallybrass’ analyzes the grief in clothing of those who have passed away in how even when the human movement is gone, there is still something; there is something almost magical, moving around in the fabric. That is what is called the imprint. When speaking of the death of his friend Allon White, he states: “For Jen, the question was whether and how to reorder the house, what to do with Allon’s books and with all the ways in which he had occupied space” (Stallybrass 35). By his use of literary language, Stallybrass is emphasizing that the signs of remembrance, like Allon’s books, still existed around them; his signs stayed even though his physical body had left. Stallybrass talks of memories as the imprint of a person and the power in processing that memory comes from within in us.
When my grandmother, on my mother’s side, passed away, there was this spree and excitement for my aunts to gather as much of her personal items as quickly as possible. The stampede to her home in Waterbury empathized a true fetishism in my grandmother’s belongings. The pearls she bought after my grandfather returned from war, the sapphire rings she collected, and the many cashmere sweaters she wore during the seasons seemed to be a commodity, as Karl Marx would see it; these items were so valued for their price that the memory of my grandmother faded. My mother, however, started fidgeting with the fake diamond pins she seemed to snag out of the items that were taken. They were my grandmother’s, and when I asked my mother why she wore them, she said she could feel my grandmother’s presence with her. Here is where I saw my mother’s power in imprinting my grandmother’s memory. She didn’t need the most expensive item to feel her own mother’s love; she needed something that reminded that she had strength from the ones who passed away in her life. My mother sat in a hospital for two months watching my grandmother withering away while my aunts sat in their homes, far away from the horror, and all they wanted was stuff. To them, all they saw was stuff, so it remained stuff.
The true reason why clothing becomes a memory is by the senses of the body, and the magic that makes you feel somehow secure knowing that that pin sat on someone else’s shoulders for a long time. It’s as if the pins, gathered on my mother, would be like having little imaginary former lives of memory helping her make decisions in the present. The magic of those moments, and the symbolism of some cheap Macy’s pin, as I believe Stallybrass would agree, gathered meaning because some wore it.
Clothing is different because it touches the body; it has direct connection to that person’s movement, the environments they both enter, and the way they live on that person and in return, the clothing becomes the life. It can be frightening in experience and this terror is captured by Vladimir Nabokov as he states: “Her dresses now wear their own selves, her books leaf through their own pages. We suffocate in the tightening circle of those monsters that are misplaced and misshapen because she is not there to tend them” (Stallybrass 40). And maybe that’s the point: we need to keep this cyclic motion going of tending to these items so that they continue their own path of life along ours. The personification of cloth is what keeps the mystery, but also creates a sense of fear that the person who has passed, may still be around in that object. Clothing truly haunts us and that adds comfort, along with some mystery or terror, to how clothing is truly grieved. It becomes so grieved, we started to follow an understood and organized interpretation of what to wear to mourn those we have lost; we have created fashion, alongside the fashion that lives from those who have died.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art had an exhibition, reviewed by Glenda Tomi, called “Death Becomes Her: A Century of Mourning Attire” which examined the Victorian Era. “Her”, which personified the actual attire that the person mourning was wearing, became a part of the textile industry after the Industrial Revolution; mourning attire, thus, became a staple in the fashion industry (Toma). Between 1815 and 1915, death in fashion has certain symbols and codes as an homage to Eco statements about coding, as Toma states:
“And while black does have a muting effect, it cannot hide careful attention to cut, detail and trim. One outfit, dated 1861 and displayed from behind, has thin threads of gray woven throughout the skirt, as if someone started sketching gardenias in charcoal. Lace is delicately draped around the shoulders, just sheer enough that the dress’s black beads still manage to peek through” (Toma).
The question for present day mourning, amongst Stallybrass’ and Toma’s analysis of death, comes back to my grandmother’s handkerchiefs; for that, the personal narrative from my mother explains the history behind why the magic of what could be a forgotten, a 1900’s folded embroidered piece of cloth, becomes meaningful in remembrance and memory. My grandmother had her own fashion inspiration from Jackie Kennedy and Chanel, which why she loved carrying scarves or handkerchiefs. From my mother, also named Joan, there is further insight into my grandmother’s, who we called “Mama Joan” history of style:
“Mama Joan grew up in the depression, then married Papa Frank who was very frugal, so money was always tight. On top of that, Mama Joan went to Catholic school and always wore a uniform. And her mother was English, and wore very simple clothes. I always thought her Mom looked like a nun. So, what’s a girl to do? I think Mama Joan used scarves as her fashion statement piece. They were economical and she could change up her basic clothes to look new and different. She always wore short scarves around her neck. She didn’t have money for jewelry, so scarves were her accessory”.
That culture of wearing scarves and handkerchiefs during the 1940’s and 1950’s spread to my mother, who also accessories with scarves based on the influence of my grandmother. In a way, other than actual funeral attire we all wear, those scarves my mother creates a new definition of “mourning clothing”. My mother is what Stallybrass would call giving “tribute” to my grandmother. Stallybrass believes in obligations to cloth in mourning as he states: “The particular power of cloth…is closely associated with two almost contradictory aspects of its materiality; it’s ability to permeated and transformed be maker and wearer alike; its ability to endure over time…cloth is a kind of memory” (Stallybrass 38). More so, cloth is more human than we ever imagine it to be, and can endure its own death in a way. Cloth endures time just as we do as humans, it just dies differently; he decays differently. The one common ideal is that cloth and humans share is having a soul, which is how cloth is personified. Cloth only lasts longer than the human body, but it wears marks of time and it captures the memory of the human life.
Ironically, the future of our culture lies in the death of the past, in terms of cloth; we mourn clothes left behind while create an industry based on the death of others to fuel another capitalist perspective of the industry. Eco and Stallybrass understand the physicality and materiality of an object whether it’s in how we move as people when wearing clothes, or the physical texture of clothing that imprints a person even after the person is gone. This is seen in the visual collections of photographs of the left behind, but still very alive, handkerchiefs of my grandmother. Beyond capitalism and fetishism, which do exist in the fashion industry, symbolic meaning of clothing is a long last influence, and is preserved by us as people, after the death of the person. Whether alive or not, the codes of a person are embedded in their clothing, truly shaped into it, so that their presence cannot leave. The materiality of clothing by sharing and reusing clothes, shows that clothing is also a sign of a long journey, collecting memories as if they item can be personified forever. The magic then, is accepting the movement of the present and how movement continues in the past to provide a real mystery to the definitions of life and death in fashion.
Work Cited
Eco, Umberto. “A Theory of Semiotics.” Social Life as a Sign System (1976): 143-47. Web. 23 Sept. 2016.
Eco, Umberto. “Lumbar Thought.” Umberto Eco (n.d.): 315-17. Web. 3 Sept. 2016.
Rabalais, Kevin. “Create Dangerously: Albert Camus and His Quest for Meaning.” The Australian Arts. The Australian, 2 Nov. 2013. Web. 23 Nov. 2016.
Stallybrass, Peter. “Worn World.” Clothes, Mourning, and the Life of Things (n.d.): 35-50. Web. 23 Sept. 2016.
Toma, Glenda. “At The Met, ‘Death Becomes’ A History Lesson Of The Fashion Variety.” Forbes.Com (2014): 1. Business Source Complete. Web. 23 Nov. 2016.
Last week, our class had the pleasure of having Tabitha of Tabii Just (a zero-waste, sustainable fashion brand) in house as we all embarked on a mission to conceive garments out of fabric scraps. Luckily, having Tabitha with us meant that she was able to guide us with her expertise knowledge and assist us at the sewing machine if some of us (like myself) had little to no sewing experience. We proved that novices like ourselves could create thoughtful pieces while also remaining conscious of the importance of not wasting fabric–and we didn’t! A special thanks to Tabitha & Eugenia for organizing this workshop. Enjoy the photos below!
The Whitney Museum of American Art, colloquially known as “The Whitney”, is an art museum, as the name suggests. Once located in East Village, the museum has since been moved to ritzy Lower Manhattan, in the Meatpacking District. Surrounded by rustic store fronts and a surprising number of restaurants, the Whitney seems to be exclusively patronized by socialites, hipsters, the well-dressed, and the occasional tourist.
I had visited recently with some friends who needed to examine an exhibit for a school assignment. We had not expected the museum to be quite so fancy, so of course we stuck out like sore thumbs. The only piece of clothing we had remotely like what the other patrons were wearing was my newsboy cap. However, because of the stark contrast between our outfits and theirs, I was easily able to notice the fashions present.
The most obvious thing about the others patrons’ outfits was the surprising lack of color. Many of the other museum goers’ outfits consisted of black, white, or grey. The majority of the men and women present also wore similar clothing. Corduroy jackets and woolen overcoats seemed to be the order of the day, because you couldn’t wave your arms without hitting someone bundled up tight in those coats. The jackets reminded me of something I’d see in a commercial for a high-end clothing store, certainly nothing the average citizen would have on hand for an average cold day. Many of the patrons were also neck deep in accessories like scarves and gloves, despite the fact that they were indoors. A surprising amount of people were wearing big sunglasses, oftentimes emblazoned with a brand one might associate with exorbitant prices, like Ray Ban’s. It was apparent that my friends and I were lacking in fanciness. We had showed up in brightly colored fleece jackets and blue jeans, looking like a bag of skittles in an otherwise monochromatic setting.
Luckily, we weren’t the only fish out of water. New York, being the popular travel destination that it is, always has a gaggle of tourists somewhere. The ones at the Whitney, much like my friends and I, didn’t quite fit in to the fashion scene of the museum. They appeared to be dressed more for function, rather than fashion. They wore thick coats with fur lined hoods, or fleece jackets designed to keep warmth in. The brands they were wearing were instantly recognizable, popular names like The North Face and L.L Bean. Oftentimes, they also had backpacks, likely because the Whitney would not be their only stop during the day.
Of course, it’s not to say that one group of patrons looked any better or worse than another group of patrons. The most interesting contrast to me was that the most common demographic present at the Whitney was wealthy, younger people with a similar fashion sense. I can’t deny that they really did dress nicely though. Were it within my power, I would probably wear nothing but soft wool coats too. I did not take any pictures of the patrons because taking pictures of anything in a museum is largely frowned upon. Compared to my neighborhood, however, Lower Manhattan certainly dresses to impress.
In reference to last week’s class, I was compelled by the discussion on digital work, technology, and machinery in relation to hand-made items. Then there is the idea of using technology as fashion, mixing the two together rather than seeing them as enemies, as seen in top image of this blog. This is a Disney collaboration with Richard Nicoli to create a fiber optic dress that is inspired by Tinkerbell (get full details here). Before I tackle anything, I immediately related to the idea of authenticity, again, because of a class I took at FIDM many years ago. I remember the library was filled with students on the computer creating digital flat patterns, and as a freshman I was confused. I was confused because I didn’t understand how digital flat pattern making can be as important as free hand drawing. I spent almost 45 hours a week, not allowed to trace, but to draw fashion figures by hand using only a ruler and a pencil. I did this in repetition so that I could draw faster and draw professionally. But, my very first drawing teacher, also a freelance fashion design sketcher, always said that one day all these hand skills wouldn’t matter because of technology.
It seem tragic, if you ask me, that a computer could replace the way a person can draw through talent and hard work. I don’t think technology is necessarily a bad thing in the fashion industry, either, but why does one have to isolate or eliminate the other? Can’t we have both? As we talked about in our class, some hand skills are impossible to replicate in digital form: that is why it is a skill. By definition, a skill is: competent excellence in performance; expertness; dexterity” (click here). And in another thought, computers did not fall from the sky, right? They are engineered by human beings so human beings can never be taken out of the equation of creation. And with hand craft,there is tradition in using tools in this process of labor. With machines, the game does change, but does not eliminate the human hand completely.
In”Abstracting Craft: The Practiced Digital Hand” by Malcolm McCullough, he states:
People ‘craft’ everything from business memos to good stout beer. In digital production, craft refers to the condition where people apply standard technological means to unanticipated or indescribable ends. Works of computer animation, geometric modeling, and spatial databases get “crafted” when experts use limited software capacities resourcefully, imaginatively, and in compensation for inadequacies of prepackaged, hard-coded operations (311).
The hand may not be actually touching the item to be crafted, but by using digital production, they are creating the technology that will perform the crafting process. So, the act of crafting is never lost. And as McCullough puts so wisely: “To craft is to care” (311) which emulates the idea that the act of creating something from imagination to the tangible has to be done carefully, and almost emotionally in a way. The amount of time that comes from crafting says a lot about how much a person cares about what they are crafting.
There is always going to be a balance between functionality and aesthetic, but I think that also is a part of the imaginative process that comes with digital crafting. But, where we must be careful in how we keep digital technology alive without losing what is important. Karl Marx’s “Capital” states:
The special skill of each individual insignificant factory operative vanishes as an infinitesimal quantity before the science, the gigantic physical forces, and the mass of labour that are embodied in the factory mechanism and, together with that mechanism, constitute the power of the ‘master’. This ‘master’, therefore, in whose brain the machinery and his monopoly of it are inseparably united, whatever he falls out with his ‘hands’… (76).
The machinery, and the industrial revolution in general, helped to advance fashion while also replacing hand-made work and the laborers need to carry those tasks out. Machinery creates a border in fashion between human and product, human and craft, etc. Mass production and machinery leaves the worker useless and in less interest to producing craft; there is too much freedom and time. There is a unique relationship, as talked about with Marx before, between the craftsman and the crafted product. So, if skills are not going anywhere, and technology is only going to advance, let our hands only help to combine the two binaries to keep making fashion alive and new. My question at the end of the day, and maybe I’m being greedy, is why can’t we have both?
My original post can be found here: http://www.bonesboudoir.com/fabric-of-cultures-virtual-scrapbook-vi/