A new term, two classes left: Material Culture and Materiality

I'm in my final term of coursework. I have two directed studies, one on the material culture of the eighteenth century, the other on materiality and my own art practice. You may not first notice, but there is a lot of overlap, especially this week. Right now I am reading about what material culture studies is, what critical fashion studies should be, and a bit of deCerteau's Practices of Everyday Life thrown in for good measure.



Why do I do what I do? Why should it matter?



Jules David Prown, thought to be the father of Material Culture Theory, wrote about why the study of material culture is so important.

“Material culture is the study through artifacts of the beliefs – values, ideas, attitudes, and assumptions – of a particular community or society at a given time. The term material culture is also frequently used to refer to artifacts themselves, to the body of material available for such study. Material culture is singular as a mode of cultural investigation in its use of objects as primary data, but in its scholarly purposes it can be considered a branch of cultural history or cultural anthropology. But the material of material culture is too diverse to constitute a single field. In practice it consists of subfields investigated by specialists – cultural geographers or historians of art, architecture, decorative arts, science, and technology.

Material culture as a study is based upon the obvious fact that the existence of a man-made object is concrete evidence of the presence of a human intelligence operating at the time of fabrication” (Prown 1982, 1).

Prown gave us a classification of objects that we study under the heading of material culture. He also explained why the things left to us are often more important than the words, due to the simple fact that throughout human history, we have been predominantly illiterate. Not only does Prown remind us of how objects are viewed, their inherent value, he asks us to question those implications of value through examining why the objects have remained, either through collection or through their materiality. He tells us that by using our senses instead of our minds to examine objects (rather than words), we are able to "get into the skins of individuals who commissioned, made, used, or enjoyed these objects"(Prown 1982, 5).

Two things struck me, both made me understand better why it is that I do what I do...making historical reproduction clothing to wear and use...

“The methodology of material culture aspires to the objectivity of scientific method, afford a proceedure for overcoming the distortions, it makes visable the otherwise invisable, unconscious biases of our own cultural perspective. Awareness of what one normally takes for granted occurs only in the forced confrontation with another norm” (Prown 1982, 5).

And most importantly...

“Cultural expression is not limited to things. But the techniques of material culture should be part of the tool kit of the well-equipped cultural scholar” (Prown 1982, 5).

A more recent article, written by Michael Yonan goes back to the roots of Prown's work to give us a better understanding of where material culture studies is today. Yonan still questions why the discipline of art history fights against techniques of material culture study, holding on to old notions of 'high' art, and 'craft', or 'low' art. Many feel this dichotomy is outdated. Yonan informs us

“Today material culture studies resists simple disciplinary classification; it exists instead as an interdisciplinary space within and among multiple academic categories, transcending even the larger academic division between humanities and the social sciences.

The result is a true transdiscipline in which a great diversity of objects, paired with a wide selection of interpretive modes, results in seemingly limitless potential for understanding things and what they might mean or have meant for different communities and individuals in specific settings” (Yonan 2011, 233).

This idea has certainly informed my own practice throughout my career. I have gone from thinking very discipline centric, in that I constructed clothing for the theater, using modern techniques, to quickly understanding that I needed a background in art history as well as fashion construction/theatre studies. Little did I realize at the end of the 1980s that there were others who sought out a more interdisciplinary approach. I looked at archaeological finds, the sociology of immigration and trade, religion, and also art history, all things that Joanne Entwistle would have us examine as fashion historians. When I realized that the techniques I was using to create clothing were not ones that would have been used in other historical time periods, I wanted to learn more. Construction methods, drafting methods, and then the study of cloth production were all important to my interdisciplinary approach.

Recently, I have begun to consider the agency of the things around me. The tools in my studio, what they allow me to create, but also the reproductions themselves. Am I using these objects in the manner they would have been used in the period I am studying? How would they have been regarded? Were they simply mundane, everyday objects, or did they hold value? How much value can we ascribe to a utilitarian object...if it wasn't there, how much would I miss it? I am also considering the motions I go through, throughout my day, throughout the yearly cycle. What do I need to help me live a better, easier life? What would my historical counterpart have needed?

These are questions I hope to have an answer to by the end of the semester. I'll be posting about breeches construction, shirt construction, and the like, but I will also be writing about the materiality of my practice. I hope I don't bore you all too much.

Bibliography



deCerteau, Michel. 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

Entwistle, Joanne. 2000. The Fashioned Body: Fashion, Dress and Modern Social Theory. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.

Prown, Jules David. 1982. "Mind in Matter: An Introduction to Material Culture Theory and Method." Winterthur Portfolio 1-19.

Yonan, Michael. 2011. "Toward a Fusion of Art History and Material Culture Studies." West 86th: A Journal of Decorative Arts, Design History, and Material Culture 232-248.

breeches, day two, part the second

Here we are again, finishing up for the day, as It's getting dark, and I don't sew after dark. This first photo is me pressing under the long 'slash' edge of the quarter circles, 1/2" seam allowance. I press each edge at a time, then a final press in its flat form.

Sandwiching the slashed edge between the layers of the quarter circle, I pin everything nicely ensuring that for most of this seam, the slashed edge has 1/2" seam allowance. The quarter circle's cut edge lines up with the top edge of your breeches and will be caught in the waistband later. The bottom will hang down below the slash, that's ok, it'll hang out inside the breeches front so much better once the Fall plackets are stitched in place. With the two layers of the quarter circle, and the slashed layer all sandwiched nicely, I use that felling stitch again to sew all layers at once. YES, at once! Work from the front side, not the lining, and use the fingers on your non dominant hand to feel when the needle is going through the back side. Try. If you find you don't catch the backside, that's ok, once you get to the bottom, just go back up the backside with little stitches until everything is stitched in place.

Once the inside fall's quarter circles are stitched in place, I lay everything flat and nicely on the table and then pin the bottom points of the placket in place.  Then using small stitches, I sew around the point and finally using a running back stitch, across the bottom point, catching everything underneath, including the quarter circles a bit.  Remember you've pinned everything flat, so once you sew, everything should be nicely in place and nailed down.

You could stop here and move on to the waistband and back sections of the breeches, but I'm a glutton for punishment ;-) and am going to make dog-ear pockets on these ones.  Tomorrow. Now, it is officially too dark, and I am out of brain.

breeches, day two, part the first

I realized that I'll have to break up today's sewing into a couple of posts so that I don't overwhelm you, and so that I don't get too far ahead of myself in trying to explain things.

Today I am starting by basting the Fall lining to the Fall itself so that it doesn't move around as I'm sewing.  You could pin it in place, but I really hate being stabbed multiple times as I'm trying to sew, so, I baste. It's the tailor in me I guess. I've also stitched down the Fall plackets to the front fall edges so that I know where to slash, how deep to slash, and also how high to stitch down the lining through the crotch.

Baste down the Centre Front (CF) seam, then the outside edges.

Here you can see that I've just sewn down to the point but not through it to the end of the piece.  This will help later as I press and turn the placket.

Once that first step of stitching down the placket is done, turn your work to the inside and stitch down the Fall lining through the crotch.  I turn under a 1/4" fold, pin, and then stitch with a little felling stitch again. Use a small needle, a single thread, and make your stitches about 1/8-1/4" long, picking up just the fold of the lining when you come through to this side. You can feel with your finger on the underside how big your stitches are.  Small and even is key.

Here is the inside stitched down, and the crotch folded up so you can see the stitches on the outside.  You 'could' machine this, if you're working on a pair for theatre, but for living history, take the couple of minutes extra and do this by hand. Trust me, you'll appreciate it later when you are trying to meet dress regs for your unit.

Here is when I slash into the fronts to make the Fall actually 'Fall'. The slash is straight, following my seam line and only going as far as the end of the seam for the placket, no further.

Now is where I deal with the Placket. Turn down the top edge and press, turn up the first part of the point, nearest the seam, and press, press up the remaining point and across the bottom edge. Then press the placket away from the front Fall.

Turn your work to the inside, and press the placket in place, folding and pressing that last long edge.  Pin everything in place.  I start sewing the top edge of the placket together, then down the long inside edge, then the bottom flat edge to the point. Stop there. You don't want to sew the point to the breeches front until you get the next steps done.

Using the slash as a guide, I now cut the front flaps that hang out inside the Fall. They are sometimes quarter circles, sometimes they are highly shaped little dudes.  For our purposes, I'm just cutting quarter circles. you can see on the quarter circle above, my line for the slash. I've given myself a full inch seam allowance, which I will break up between the top and bottom edge as needed. Better to be a bit big, than too small in this instance.

Using a 1/2" seam allowance, I've sewn the outside curve of the quarter circle. Don't forget to anchor your stitching, in my case, with machine, I'm just using a backstitch.  If by hand, don't forget to knot your thread!

Once the seam is sewn, you will want to grade your seam allowances, or this curve will never lay flat. I'm NOT a fan of clipping, as it doesn't take care of the bulk, and leaves you with a whole lot of cut stress points just begging to tear open and make a mess. Grade by cutting one seam allowance at a time, the first go 1/8" from the seam, holding your scissors flat like they are in the photo...my hand isn't there because it's taking a photo, but you get the drift. The next seam allowance is cut slightly wider, and you can hold your scissors upright, like normal.

You may hate me by the end of this, but really, I am showing you some inside tricks to make things easier. Basting again...invest in some cheap white poly cotton thread, you'll use it a lot with me.

I'm turning these quarter circles now to the right side and pressing them. To get the seam to lay right on the edge, roll the seam between your thumb and forefinger until it's right on the edge and then baste. Each stitch, I roll, and baste, roll and baste, roll and baste, until the whole seam is lovely. This photo shows the quarter circles as they will sit on the body, it also gives you an idea of what the front and back of the diagonal basting stitch looks like, little horizontal stitches on the back, long diagonal on the top. Then Press!

Pressing and basting are key to making lovely clothes. I've run out of photos, so I'm back to sewing...and more coffee.  Some seamsters run on tea, I run on coffee.

Breeches, day one

This week, I have to construct a pair of breeches and a shirt for a near-by potter friend.  I'm going to be posting how I construct breeches in hopes that it may make the experience easier on others who are up for the task, but also to help people understand the lengthy process it takes to make this garment for the everyman of the eighteenth century.

I am using both machine and hand sewing and finishing in order to speed up the process a bit, and also to hopefully allow for a bit more durability, as my potter friend will be machine washing and drying the clothes after every wear. He creates historical pottery in these clothes, so if he didn't launder regularly, they would become pottery themselves.

First up, I pressed my pattern and cloth so that they were both very flat, and then I cut out the parts for making the breeches.  Here you can see from the left, pocket bags and front facings (I am making dog ear pockets at the side fronts), the Fall facings and plackets (bottom), the breeches fronts, and the waistbands. The breeches backs are just out of frame.

The front curve of both the Fall facings and the breeches fronts are the first seams to be sewn. Right sides together, a half inch seam allowance. I sewed the seam by machine, but more progressive folks will want to do that by hand, using a running back stitch. Don't forget to anchor the start and finish of your stitching, either by back stitching if by machine, or knotting your thread and backstitching if by hand. This seam will get a bit of strain, being in the crotch area.

The first picture in this bunch shows the seam sewn. You have to look carefully, I used rust coloured thread. The second pic shows the seams pressed open. Yes, you will need an iron for this project.  Your pressing tools are the most important tools in your sewing room, apart from your thimble and scissors. The third photo shows the turning down and pressing of the top edge of the Fall and Fall facing. These seams are then placed wrong sides together, with all the raw edges tucked in  and then the top edge is stitched together using a felling stitch.

I made a bit of a film of it, but it's difficult to see, Here's a video from Burnley and Trowbridge that shows exactly what I am doing.

The last photo shows the top edge stitched, with the little 'top' stitching from the felling stitch, and the inside showing that I'm just picking up the edge of the fold of the facing/lining as I sew.

Now, I would have kept going, but it was getting dark, I don't sew after dark. That and stopping to take photos and write about each step slows stuff down. Hopefully you all can now get caught up with me, and we can start again later today. First up though, I need coffee.

Materiality

We have been discussing materiality a lot in the fibres cluster this year.  This term, the second level fibres class was asked what materiality means to them, to be expressed through the projects they would complete for the class. I've also been thinking about my up-coming comprehensive exams next Summer and Fall and what I would produce as far as work is concerned for the fibres exam.

I will be working through an extensive book and article list with my primary advisor over the Winter term on the material culture of the eighteenth-century. I will be writing that first comprehensive in the beginning of the summer months, probably discussing the goods that were available to the colonies during and after the Revolution. It seems appropriate that my fibres exam will be next. Over the past few years I have been thinking a great deal on the artifacts that make up a life, the things I need in my living history programs that are very much a part of me, who I am as a living historian. Going to Fort Ticonderoga this summer made me realize how much modernity we still take with us to living history events. Then going to Saint-Jean in August, I wanted more to be more fully immersed in the historical period, but it didn't quite work. When talking with my friend Vicki about a WWI era event she went to, where they even had historical nightclothes, it got me thinking even more.

Buying historical goods is difficult. There are very few suppliers, and some of the things offered for sale, still aren't quite right. Sometimes, like with my glasses frames, you have to deal with modernity to have lenses put in, and the modern labs don't know how to deal with your historical piece and they break them. What do you do? Much of what we need, we have to make ourselves. This isn't really all that different from our historical counterparts. But what do I need to live my life as a historical person? What are the things that make me, me? I will be working through these things as I continue to create the artifacts that will make up my historical self. For my fibres exam, I will be writing a paper on these items, and presenting them to my committee as my work of art. Over the Christmas break, possibly Pierre can help me begin this project. I will need a sea chest to hold everything. made by hand, using period techniques.

Yes. I know. I'm crazy. But isn't that what a PhD in Fine Arts is all about? Being a little crazy?

Sensory Overload: a Living Historian Steps back in Time

My timing was off on the way to class this evening. I entered the metro just as the wall of end of day travellers hit the top of the stairs. I stopped next to the wall and waited for them to pass, but it was too late, I was already feeling the effects. The grey was closing in. I’m getting a migraine.

It’s early morning, the day is cool so far, and really bright.  The harbour smells fresh, so the tide must have just come in. The waterfront is quiet, people walking to work, walking their dogs. I go into the locker-room and get dressed for the day. I am working in the Robertson’s Store, Ship Chandlery for the day. It will be quiet too, separated from the museum and yet an integral piece of the history of the waterfront. It actually existed, closed in the early twentieth-century, and fully donated to the museum. I am wearing the clothing of the early Great War. My corset is snug, but not constricting. It is not what is annoying about the outfit, not what is oppressive about the period. It gives my body a smooth appearance and supports my clothing, that is all. I have to take baby steps when I am dressed in this period’s clothes. My stride is restricted, I am wearing a hobbled skirt.  The hem at my ankles is very narrow, I have no kick pleat. I prepare for my day. I take the hand crank out and lower the awning on the front of the store so that it stays somewhat cool inside on this August day. I am careful not to raise my hands too far over my head, so that I’m not having to readjust my blouse when I am finished. Take my time. At the end of the day, Pierre notes that my eau du rope cologne is especially strong, that I must have been working in the store. He loves the scent of hemp rope and floor oil that permeates my skin and hair on a warm day. He is a sailor after all.

It has been a long day. It is September 11^th, and all hands are in costume. We have several cruise ships in the harbour. One of the boys runs down the demi-ditch and skids to a halt just shy of my door. He runs back in, feather bonnet askew. Have you heard, he yells. The Trade centre has been bombed. And just as quickly, he disappears out my door again. I’m not usually in costume, just special events and in the off season. At the Citadel, I am in charge of looking after about a hundred other people in historical dress.  Today though, I was dressed in the half hour and on the parade square. Dressing so quickly, my stays aren’t quite sitting right, I think I missed an eyelet or something. Ugh, I’ll deal. These tourists don’t know yet, what has happened to their country. I grab the box of tissues and bring it upstairs. In Victorian dress, I am large and imposing. Much like the soldiers, we stand out in the crowd of tourists pouring through the sally port.

Again, early morning. I lay in bed listening to the fog horn in the distance. The guys have the fire started, despite the damp, and are making coffee. I am going to learn how to make lace today. We are in my favourite place on earth, Louisbourg. I get up and slowly get dressed. My stays are a bit more constricting in the eighteenth-century than they are in other time periods, they hug a bit tighter. I have full range of movement in my eighteenth-century clothing though, and I stand in ballet’s first position. I am straight, my shoulder blades are slightly pulled back, my arms rest on my side hoops, palms up. My hoops have a sprung reed though, and its point digs into my leg when I wear them. I must remember to put my extra petticoat on first, to keep that point from nagging me. I have to concentrate today.

This time of year is sometimes lonely for a living historian. We need to deal with modern life far too much. Museum work is often seasonal, living history in the summer, for the tourists, mending and research in the winter months to prepare for new programing next summer. Little things will take you back to the moments of history, Le Fumoir at the grocery store, smoking hams for the customers, stitching eyelets on your new waistcoat, thinking of Christmas presents that you really should get started on so that they are finished in time to mail out. Living history, for me, is all about the senses. The smell of wood smoke, the scuff of hobnailed shoes on gravel streets. The click, clack of the loom as it creates the cloth, the young man practicing tin whistle outside the window, the sound of the noon gun, or hourly chime of the bells at the church. The senses are an intimate part of how I understand history, the way my body moves in the different period’s clothing, how what is first expected, is not the oppressive thing about what I’m wearing. When I am stressed in my modern life, it helps to imagine those fragments of sense to get me through the day. It really is too bad that someone hasn’t actually made Eau du Rope, or Eau du Woodsmoke perfume, I bet it would be a hit amoungst living historians

You can’t afford to shop anywhere but Walmart. I ask if we, As a Society, can truly afford Walmart?

I am often asked why I don’t ‘go into business’ selling my clothes.  These questions arise more often just after I have finished a collection for a school project, or have completed a new historical outfit.  They are often prefaced by the compliment that my work is so good, I could make good money at it.  Then I ask what people would pay for the skirt I’m wearing, and inevitably they come up short.

So let’s break down the cost of the skirt I am wearing right this moment.  It was designed as part of my MA thesis collection and is based on research on Vivienne Westwood’s Bondage wear, an integral part of the early Punk scene in the UK. The denim fabric cost 15$/metre, and there is about a metre in the skirt, if I cut very carefully. Then there is about another 20$ worth of notions; the buckles, vintage buttons, waistband tape, zipper, hem tape, thread. The skirt itself took two days to sew. If I was to charge just 10$/hour, that’s 160$. So the skirt cost, at minimum, almost 200$.  Questions arise in my mind when I lay out the figures like this. First one is that I am worth far more than just 10$/hour. I have a Master’s degree and almost 30 years of experience. And so I ask how much money the person asking for this skirt makes in their job? How about their Dad? What should a person earn who has a Master’s degree and 30 years’ experience?

And then, what would Walmart charge for a denim skirt?

Cotton is one of the most expensive fibres to process, both financially, but also expensive for the environment. The amount of pesticides used on cotton fields would make any hipster vomit at the idea. It is often produced in Third World countries where environmental concerns are non-existent, so who cares about the environment, or the farmer? Farmers of cotton live with this every day, and they only earn pennies for the cotton crops they produce. Yes, pennies. The cotton crop is then sent to another Third World country for processing. Indigo in its natural form is too expensive, so synthetic indigo is used for dying cotton denim.  The excess dye is often dumped into the local water source to be taken ‘away’. The processors are also often only paid pennies for the cloth they have produced. That processing includes scrubbers, dyers, weavers, and finishers, before the fabric is ready to be cut into pieces to be made into clothing. The finished fabric is then sent to Bangladesh to be made into jeans and other denim clothes. The film we are currently watching, The Last Train, is an older film.  Manufacturers are now sending contracts to Bangladesh because the work can be done even cheaper, and yes, the labour and environmental laws are non-existent. The machine operators who construct our clothes are paid by the piece, usually fractions of cents per seam.  They sit at sewing machines all day and sew one seam of the garment, often for years, one. Seam. This works out to roughly 10$/month in salary. Then when the cost of their meals and housing is deducted from that wage, you get the drift. Garment workers in Bangladesh cannot afford the clothes they create, they don’t earn enough money. All the clothes they make are sent to western markets, where we buy them at Walmart, Forever 21, H&M, for rock bottom prices. And I am not even going to dig into how little sales associates are paid to work in those stores and sell you those clothes.

The clothes we buy are what is known as ‘Fast Fashion’. High turnover of styles in stores feeds an appetite for more. Our clothes are only supposed to last 10 weeks before we are expected to throw them away because they have become too worn out, or too out of fashion. Often times, North Americans will only wear an item of clothing once before it goes into the trash, or sent to the second hand market. Fashion is the second dirtiest industry in the world, second only to oil. Think about that for a second.

There is an internet full of articles on the subject of fast fashion, I’ll give you a quick link to a good one here http://jcooper.co.uk/fast-fashion-toxic-facts/ to start you off. There are far too many reasons to dwell on why I don’t ‘go into business’ and sell my clothes, but the main reason is that we’ve been conditioned to think we can only afford fast fashion, and so, you cannot afford me.

And then I ask again, can we really afford Walmart?