Filmic Inspiration from Kew Gardens

Today's post is a collage of images taken from a recent visit to Kew Gardens. Strangely, for all the years I've lived in London, this was my first visit here, and for any other Londoners yet to go, it's definitely worth the trip on the District Line. I was particularly intrigued by the 'filmic' quality of the famous glass houses, particularly the older ones, with peeling paint, winding staircases and ornate urns. My 'fashion' eye, meanwhile, was also attuned to the multitude of textures of the plants, their colours, forms and shapes. In developing my research through film and the processes of film-making this visit to Kew was certainly a lesson in 'looking', not just with a casual glance, but with a more nuanced 'looking', thinking about framing of shots, positions and angles of the camera, and of course, lighting, the bug-bear of every film-maker or photographer, particularly noticeable on the day I visited, with pleasant, if changeable, weather. The practice of looking is certainly something I'll no doubt be developing further over the coming months.


Chinese Pagoda


Temperate House, Kew Gardens






Japanese Wood Carving




Cacti Closeup


Glasshouse Roof


Purple Petticoats



Resources:

Kew Gardens: www.kew.org

William Kentridge

As great as it is to have the opportunity to immerse yourself in a specific field of research, in my case fashion culture, it is still necessary, indeed, sometimes vital, to step outside of it. In part, this a way to 're-charge the batteries', so to speak, and on the other hand it also offers the opportunity to reflect on the research question(s). Yesterday's Q&A between artist William Kentridge and author Marina Warner, orgainised by the Amination Department, proved to be a case in point. It's always intriguing to hear about other people's working processes, and Kentridge proved to be a generous and enlightening guide into his own work, from scrappy, quick drawings, to polished animated film. Kentridge showed us both a finished film, his well-known Tide Table, as well as excerpts of film showing his working practices, including much in relation to his looking at how the body moves in motion through space. Much of this discussion provoked much 'food-for-thought' in relation to my own intial foray's into filmmaking, particularly Kentridge's explanation of working through 'accident'. Certainly much of my own recent experience of film-making has felt like that, feeling my way through the darkness. It seems that even for the seemingly very accomplished film-maker the 'accident' remains very much a part of their working process, leading to more intriguing possibilities, or the development of a body of work that might not already have happened. For a little insight into Kentridge's working process, and excerpts from Tide Table, see the short film above made by SF Moma.

Curating Design

Today I attended a cross-college seminar hosted by David Crowley from the Critical and Historical Studies Department on the subject of Design Exhibitions: What are they? And what might they be? The seminar consisted of a short presentation from several practitioners/curators in the field of design exhibitions including Claire Catterall of Somerset House, Daniel Charney an RCA tutor and curator at Aram Gallery, Nina Due of the Design Museum, and Gareth Willams, formally a curator at the V&A, and now a tutor at the RCA.

Each curator gave an insight into their own experiences and reflections on their approaches to curating design within the context of their own specialism and/or institution. Catterall gave perhaps the most personal perspective, reflecting on her experiences working in both formal institutional settings, such as the Design Museum and Somerset House, and also as a freelance curator, through her own set-up as part of Scarlet Projects. Due gave an interesting insight into the Design Museum’s current perspective of enhancing the visitor experience, where visitors are encouraged to engage and be inspired as much by the events the museum hosts as its static exhibitions. Charney, meanwhile, described his experiences of working in a not-for-profit curatorial space located within the confines of a commercial setting in the form of the Aram Gallery in the Aram shop in London’s Covent Garden. Finally Williams reflected on his experiences as a curator for both the permanent design and architecture collections at the V&A and also for temporary and topical exhibitions, such as the recent Telling Tales. Following on from this, a panel discussion was formed of each of the speakers, who were also joined by Mark Sladen, formally of the ICA, and moderated by Crowley.

My own interest in curating is as a research methodology, as in my own current project on Fashion Souvenirs, and while none of the speakers raised this, the seminar raised some intriguing points. One of key points made towards the end of the discussion was about the ‘ordinariness’ of design and design objects in everyday life. Yet by taking objects out of their intended context and placing them on a pedestal in a gallery space poses problems for curators who seek to engage in their audience in participating in design exhibitions, not merely as passive observers, but as active and fully absorbed participants. Many curators today are engaged not so much in putting on exhibitions per se, but ‘projects’, or perhaps ‘event making’ to create a dialogue and active awareness in exhibition visitors. This has particular implications for the curating of fashion and textiles, where the tactile nature of the objects on show is such an integral part. Yet for reasons of preservation and conservation touching in any form usually remains strictly forbidden. An interesting example where this can be circumnavigated comes in the form of the Centraal Museum’s recent retrospective on Alexander van Slobbe in Utrecht, where a whole room was set up as an atelier complete with sewing machines, cutting tables and an ironing board. In this space visitors were encouraged to make their own simple tunic-style dress supplied from a pattern of one of van Slobbe’s archetypal designs. While many UK museums such as the V&A and the FTM run practical workshops under supervision, it is difficult to imagine how any would locate such an apparent health and safety ‘risk’ directly in the gallery space itself.

Overall, this discussion was an insight into the diverse strands of curating design and the challenges and opportunities provoked by differing contexts in the curation of design objects. Design, taken generally as something commercial, has often had to fight its corner in being accepted into grand institutions. Yet, as was raised in this discussion, many design 'objects' are made specifically for exhibition, that is their 'usefulness' is not to be found in their practicality, but rather in the appreciation of their design as an end in itself. Yet, as I have found with my own curatorial project, Fashion Souvenirs, their remain many aspects of design that have yet to have their 'ordinariness' fully appraised or appreciated.

Souvenirs from Romania

As part of my continuing curatorial project into Fashion Souvenirs (visit www.fashion-souvenirs.com for more or click the link on the left) I have been asking various friends and relatives to collect anything interesting or typical of the places they visit. My youngest sister recently returned from a trip to Bucharest in Romania, where despite the countries recent entry to the EU and its intriguing history, it has yet to fully take off as a tourist destination. According to her observations the main thing seemed to be to take a visit to Transylvania, and Dracula's Castle, with many a gothic/dracula themed gift to be found. Overall, though, it was intriguing to hear there is a distinct dearth of souvenir shops or opportunities for souvenir hunters in general in Bucharest, which the examples my sister brought back probably attest to. The first is hand-woven book-mark in the Romanian colours, while the second a key-ring featuring landmarks from the open-air museum. Strangely, while abroad it is often the familiar, just as much as the exotic or strange that we seek out on our travels. My sister, for instance, cannot seem to get through the week without her Starbucks fix. Although it appears even that behemoth has already reached Bucharest, she was flummoxed as how to find a branch there, despite the evidence of seeing passers-by clutching Starbucks carrier bags. Instead, she found the local option to be just as satisfactory in stemming her desire for a cappuccino, which goes by the excellent name of Coffee Attack (here above are some souvenir sugar sachets). It is often intriguing to see how as native-English speaker, the global lingua franca is interpreted abroad, often to unintentional comical effect. In the case of the name Coffee Attack, they seem to have hit on an intriguing combination, implying how the need for a caffeine fix is also an attack both on the body (in an unhealthy sense) and on our desires (in a pleasurable sense).


Research is often a solitary occupation, yet in some instances it is necessary to seek the help of others in collating aspects of a research project. In seeking out such help, however, it poses interesting questions regarding how reliable others viewpoint or skills are in collating research. It sometimes also raises questions about ownership. In the case of the Fashion Souvenirs project many of my collaborators have been happy to help out, as a fun diversion to their main activity in visiting a place, and then it is up to me how I interpret or make use of the artefacts I bring back, so ultimately the decisions regarding the process and outcome of the research are down to me. Yet, as I now consider how it may be necessary to collaborate with others on my main research project here at the RCA, it brings about the continuing question of how 'wise' it is to collaborate with others on aspects of the research, and whether, ultimately, this is even strictly necessary. I am guessing only time will tell...

Mind Maps

Each week, the research students from the School Fashion and Textiles try and get together to participate in a workshop or ‘reading group’ session. The role of researcher can be a lonely task, so these sessions are good way of re-connecting with each other, and to catch up with happenings both inside and outside the college. Since I have been nervously preparing for my first interim exam (I haven’t had such a formal assessment for at least six years, it has been surprising to remember how daunting exams can be), I was wondering if it was such a wise use of time to attend last week’s session, but as it turned out, fortunately I did. Hosted by Harriet Edwards, a researcher in the college, we participated in a workshop on drawing and ‘mind mapping’. The theme of the workshop was ‘’intuition’’, and after a brief introduction by Harriet we were all asked to help ourselves to paper and drawing materials and to make a sketch about our thoughts on the process of intuition in our work. The image above is my own attempt this, using a biro pen on grey paper. After 10/15 minutes we were each asked to stop and to show our drawings to the rest of the group and explain a little about them in turn. Following this we asked to do some writing on the same theme, and again read out our efforts, if we wanted to, or to talk more generally about our thoughts. With our agreement, the session was partly recorded and documented by Harriet to use in her own current research study.

In many ways this was a useful very workshop for all of us, taking us away from our normal everyday routine, and re-connecting us to the possibilities of different processes that can be used for research. In general I do not view my work as that of someone who is a ‘maker’ or ‘producer’ so it was interesting to be asked to express something through the act of drawing, as opposed to writing. And yet, going through my own notebooks I notice how many rough sketches and strange doodles are included, seemingly unconnected to the words, and yet the words wouldn’t be relevant without them. In working through the process of research, this workshop was also revealing to me in realising how much of what I do is connected or derived from ‘intuition’ or the ‘intuitive’. Often an idea or concept for a piece of work, whether written or practical, begins in a state of flux, and from that initial components of the core idea are composed. From this I’ll perhaps attempt to see how they fit together or can be ordered in some way, sometimes finding quite disparate things fit very well, while seemingly logical things do not fit in at all. After this; putting everything into some kind of concrete whole appears possible, but even after careful ordering and composition some things still do not quite fit, and so remain outside the work or concept. Yet sometimes those ‘discarded’ bits are the most interesting, and turn out not to be so useless after all, opening up the possibility for new ideas, concepts and projects.