Hunter Gatherer: Form

Whenever I visit London, I am almost overwhelmed by how much there is to see. It is such a welcome assault on the senses and a mecca of inspiration.

On my last visit, I chose to focus on architecture to the exclusion of all else. As always, I was mostly drawn to detail rather than the whole.

I feel re-invigorated after each visit and cannot wait to go back. I had hoped to catch up with friends at the V&A Reading Rooms tomorrow but, alas, encroaching deadlines beckon. I do hope, however, that they provide written reports in excruciating detail and lots of photos!

My weekend will be a curious mix of hive-like activity in the studio and moments of langour. Something tells me that there will be a lot more of one than the other!

The Séeberger Brothers

A photograph from a previous post  reminded me of a book that had been on my must-have list for quite some time. Elegance: The Séeberger Brothers and the Birth of Fashion Photography is a collection of images that pioneered street style photography as we know it today. Jules, Louis and Henri started out as postcard photographers but eventually came to be courted by magazine editors and Hollywood movie moguls for their refreshing take on fashion in particular and Parisian life in general.

 

The English version of this book is out of print and now has collector's item status, selling for a lot more than I can spare. I bought a French copy with an unspoken vow to finally pick up where I had left off with my lessons.

The brothers each shot very simply and with no styling on their part - merely capturing whatever the subject exuded. They frequented the haunts of the elite of the day and were thus able to immortalize some of the most elaborate confections (and unusual pets!) that money could buy.

Rather amusingly, fashion designers began to send models (posing as socialites) dressed in their latest creations to the very same locations. A Séeberger photo in a magazine was worth its weight in gold and, frankly, too good an advertising opportunity to pass up. I had tremendous fun trying to spot the impostors, I can tell you!

I like to think that absolutely everyone was this glamorous way back when. The ensembles photographed on the beach resorts are some of my personal favourites. I am a firm believer that one should put as much effort into their beach attire as any other so I thoroughly enjoyed a peek into a few poolside wardrobes, so to speak.

Above all, I love the the sense of irreverence and playfulness that pervaded the era. Fashion is always at its best when it does not take itself too seriously, n'est-ce pas?

Now where did I put my Gruneberg CD-ROMs?

Everything Must Go

Prompted by a Saturday night tweet, I hopped on a train bound for London first thing the next morning. I had decided (quite on the spur of the moment) to see the Everything Must Go exhibition curated by Lucy Norris and Clare Patey. The online flyer had mentioned that it would shed light on the true scale of global waste and it certainly did not disappoint.

 

On the ground floor, I was greeted by a larger-than-life pile of donated clothing. Everyone had been encouraged to bring something unwanted and they were only too happy to oblige. Tickets (stating why they had done so and their perceived value) were attached before adding the clothes to the pile.

Everywhere I looked there were posters tracing the journey and fate of our rejected garments. I found, to my complete surprise, that most of them are neither clothing the needy in the Third World nor those on home soil. Instead they are shipped to recycling plants (which are often dusty and debtrimental to their underpaid employees' health) in Northern India and North Africa to be converted into yarn. This yarn is then turned into blankets and clothing, some of which are (somewhat ironically) sold back to us.

 

A couple of creative alternatives had been thoughtfully provided, however. In one of the many rooms, a few of the volunteers gave me a crash course in rag rug making. It is a great way to use up fabric scraps and old clothing and is incredibly easy to do, not to mention a thoroughly pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning!

We chatted away as we threaded strips of fabric through the burlap base which proved to be incredibly therapeutic. Visitors who passed by were also encouraged to join in. They reminisced over how their mothers and grandmothers had made rugs in this way as they each worked on little sections of the burlap. The overall effect was vibrant and tactile and I was so proud of my modest contribution that I took a few photographs. Can you guess which little tuft is mine?

I was told that the finished piece may be sent off for an exhibition organised by The Waste Of The World and it felt good to know that I would, perhaps, be making history in my own teensy way.

In another room, a makeshift studio had been set up by ReMade in Leeds in which they offered workshops on how to upcycle clothing. Visitors could buy pieces from the extensive selection on the ground floor at whatever price they saw fit. Upstairs, they were then taught (through demonstration and participation) how to revamp them or turn them into something completely new.

ReMade in Leeds also stocks a collection of vintage and revamped clothing and accessories. These are made by their in-house brand, Antiform, and other local designers.

This was all put into context in a documentary entitled Unravel which featured Reshma, a woman who worked in a recycling plant in northern India. I laughed as her co-workers tried to imagine how Western women  put their outfits together with such "unusual" pieces; was filled with shame when they tried to understand how we could be so wasteful and touched when Reshma shared her dream of one day visiting America - a place she imagined to be truly magical and totally devoid of poverty.

/Film still from Soul Rebel Films/

I came away feeling enriched and inspired by the experience and not at all miffed that I'd had to give up my lazy Sunday morning.

P.S. I would like to thank the wonderful people who organized the event for letting me take photographs and the lovely girls - big and small! - (whose names I sadly cannot remember) for teaching me the edifying art of rag rug making.

Hunter Gatherer: Yellow

Even on the dreariest of days, it is comforting to know that colour is everywhere. It is my favourite pick-me-up in the cold, dark months and I simply cannot imagine a winter totally devoid of it in my wardrobe, surroundings or the great outdoors.

Lately, yellow has taken me by the hand and led me skipping off into distant (albeit imaginary) meadows. It makes the mundane look decidedly cheerful ...

... and it is a wonderful playmate for other colours. When placed in close proximity to them, something extraordinary happens.

Grouping it with various shades and motifs, enhances its vibrance.

Yellow is invigorating and fun. I cannot help but feel a frisson of joy whenever I see it. Reader, I think I'm in love.

R. Buckminster Fuller

"... Almost anybody can learn to think or believe or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself ..."

The above is an excerpt from a poem that changed the life of R. Buckminster Fuller forever. Aged thirty-two, he made the bold decision to reject everything that he had been taught to believe. He decided that he would, henceforth, reason and act solely on what he had gleaned from his own personal experiences. 

/Image courtesy of R. Buckminster Fuller Estate/

I must admit that (until a few days ago) I had never heard of this remarkable man, nor of his ground-breaking philosophies. My husband borrowed Critical Path (possibly one of his last major works) from our local library and was so effusive in his praise of Bucky, as he preferred to be called, that I devoured it greedily whenever he happened to put it down.

From the age of twelve, Bucky had painstakingly kept a record of his activities in a book he later named his Chronofile. Years later, (looking back over his letters, programs and doodles) he discovered that he was most positively effective when his own success came at no cost or disadvantage to anyone else. 

The loss of an infant daughter, bankruptcy and the birth of another, forced Bucky to rethink his role as a player in the Game of Life. He embarked upon an experiment, using himself as a guinea pig, to see what he could achieve by dedicating his life to the selfless service of all humanity.

Critical Path is, by no means, an easy read. Bucky has a unique and convoluted turn of phrase but in persevering with it, I have unlocked doors in my psyche that may never be closed.

Bucky was a man who possessed incredible foresight. In addition to being one of the 20th century's greatest thinkers, he was also a multi-disciplinary doer. He was probably one of the first practitioners of thinking globally and acting locally. Long before it became part and parcel of everyday living, he advocated sustainability and "doing more with less".

I cannot help but be inspired by him as I toil away in my studio at the bottom of my garden. My sincere hope is that I can, in my own small way, improve on what has gone before and stand out from my peers.

One of the many things that struck me about this book was the notion that ideas, much like all systems in nature, have their own unique and intrinsic gestation rates.

According to Bucky, providing that one has created (and lived by) their own rules for The Game of Life, one can become attuned to shifts in trends and, therefore, provide anticipatory solutions to a host of problems - a theory he proved himself several times over.

/Image courtesy of Time Magazine/

We, each and every one of us, are capable of providing perfectly timed solutions to the needs of society. Imagine - just for a second, if you will - the possibilities! I feel giddy just thinking about it.

This, of course, requires immensely dogged self-belief and tunnel-vision, regardless of what the rest of the world is doing. In this age of digital and sensory overload, it can often feel as though nothing is new under the sun. Bucky, without doubt, makes me feel otherwise.

 

" ... To be nobody-but-yourself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting ..."

/Quotes by E. E. Cummings/