unravelling unravel

Last week I went to the Barbican to see ‘Unravel: The Power and Politics of Textiles in Art’. (I’ve just read this properly while typing it out and now I’m wondering what does the ‘Textiles in Art’ bit even mean?) I know, I know, it’s all in the title, and I should not have been surprised, but I came away depressed and miserable. So miserable, I had to have a slice of millionaire’s shortbread with a cup of tea in the cafe overlooking the Barbican water gardens to restore my equanimity.

[Yee I-Lan’s work in the exhibition, with her explanation of why she chose not to withdraw her work]

Some people reading this might be surprised or even shocked that I didn’t enjoy the exhibition. It’s an important one for textiles but, my goodness, for me it was joyless. I’m aware that joy was definitely not top of the priority list for the curators - I couldn’t even go into the room where there was a piece which used the blood-soaked garment of a seventeen year old who’d been shot - and that’s fine, but when you emerge feeling deflated and baffled that something you associate with many positives has been apparently commandeered and overlaid with negative associations of pain, violence, and suffering, it’s hard not to question it all. There’s also the additional issue of quite a number of pieces having been withdrawn in protest, so there are empty walls and spaces and statement (but no images of the missing items). Overall, I got the impression that this medium which I love can become so ‘contested’, as they say, in some quarters that it’s become a bit of a battleground. And don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware of textiles’ potential for telling all sorts of stories and embodying different narratives (curator-speak there), so I was open to persuasion.

[where it all began]

I’ve always regarded textiles as something of a safe-haven. I come at it from a craft angle, with no pretensions to great meaning in what I make. Instead, when I was very young I knew I could rely on textiles for infinite possibilities of fun and creativity. I turned to fabric, sewing, glue, sequins, clothes for dolls and trolls, then moved onto making soft toys, smock-tops, knitting, macrame, tie-dyeing, as escapes from stuff I couldn’t control or make better. It’s the very simple, calm pleasures of the processes, together with the delight when something turns out well, or can be worn, used or enjoyed that have always appealed. In current parlance, it’s a safe-space, and I am very defensive about it. As you can tell. I’m not wanting or aiming to silently scream or protest with textiles, if anything I just want to protect them. I like all the gentle aspects, which of course are not the stuff of headlines.

(‘Large Expensive Abstract Painting’ by Grayson Perry (2019)]

So let’s get back to joy. And humour, and wit, and pleasure, and beauty. Which can all be deeply serious, too. To quote Grayson Perry, “There's a thing in culture where they think the opposite of seriousness is humour. It's not. The opposite of seriousness is triviality. Comedy is very rarely trivial. It's a profound and important part of being human..Humour…confounds people who have thought too much and have got too much knowledge, and I think that's why humour often gets sidelined”.

[Magna Carta (An Embroidery) by Cornelia Parker (2015)]

Cornelia Parker, too, can be deadly serious, but with her dry, deadpan wit and healthy levels of irreverence, she is more likely to persuade and move me than any amount of overt messages couched in depressing, hectoring political and campaigning jargon. Like Grayson Perry, she does not submit to the widely taught and accepted hierarchy of art values which says that seriousness is automatically better and more meaningful.

[‘4 Hammocks’ (1999-2003), Solange Pessoa, Barbican]

I’m not saying that textiles like those shown in ‘Unravel’ are worthless or wrong or anything like that. It’s up to each visitor to decide on their own reaction. Nevertheless, I am astounded by the number of extravagantly positive reviews in the press which contrast with the reactions of people I know who’ve seen the exhibition. Even the person working in the Barbican shop was very guarded when I asked her what visitors were saying and instead switched the subject to what the reviewers have said.

[‘Seville Still Life 1911’, Henri Matisse]

Over the years, I’ve come to realise that being deeply serious about your art, craft, or any creative endeavour does not preclude a lightness of touch - just look at Matisse with his fascinating textile background and interests, and how he effected change and revolution in the art world by means of glorious colour and extravagant pattern, not by sermons in oil. I think that very often those who appear less serious, irreverent or even cynical about life, have often experienced trauma and sadness and tragedy, and that textiles can be a wonderful way back into life.

I recently read Carolyn Denham’s story and how she found solace and pleasure in making clothes after a period of depression and, even more wonderfully, set up Merchant & Mills after a brain haemorrhage. (Hats off to her for being so open about her experiences.)

[‘The Comfort of Wool’, Julie Arkell]

As well as being a huge fan of M&M, I’ve also known and loved Julie Arkell’s work for years. At first glance it may appear quirky (dread word), whimsical, and magical, but delve a little deeper, and it’s also stranger and darker. As Sara Roberts writes in Away, Julie is ‘commenting on the human world with a light touch’ and she talks about ‘knitting herself out of grief’ after the death of her mother. I think many people will understand that.

[‘Away’ (2014), Julie Arkell - this can be read here or bought from Loop]

It seems to me that art textiles - almost inevitably - usurp and trump domestic textiles when it comes to the critics and journalists. But I honestly believe that they are vastly outnumbered by millions of people who enjoy all sorts of far less provocative, attention-grabbing, deliberately abject textile creativity. Of course the two can co-exist. I just wish domestic textiles could get more credit and recognition - happy memories of the stunning V&A quilts exhibition in 2010, any number of exhibitions at the Fashion and Textile Museum and, of course, the vastly popular shows of work by Kaffe Fassett.

Because even serious slogans work better with humour and colour.

[two rag rugs by Lu Mason, 2024]

Happy Sunday!