synergies: yeohlee teng and andrew hague

During the shows in New York, London, Milan and Paris I was annoyed with style.com for omitting so many worthy designers from their coverage, for whatever reason. With some of the labels they bother to write a runway review for... Anyway, one established designer style.com ignores season after season is Yeohlee Teng, whose approach is beautifully showcased in Yeohlee: Work
 - visually better than in some of the essays, if I may say so. As I've complained before, describing a designer's practice as an artistic and/or art practice can unintentionally keep hidden the nitty-gritties of the practice itself - and I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to know about it. The book is somewhat vague as to how Teng went about resolving some of her ideas. It's not that the creative facets of practice aren't important - I passionately believe they are, but they shouldn't overwhelm the more mundane, practical aspects of practice. (Actually, I'm not convinced the two should or can be treated separately from each other in a critical account of practice; it's just that much of the literature shies away from the bits that get hands dirty.) And please, let met clarify; I may be critical of certain decisions regarding the scope of the book, but I am very much a fan of Teng, one of the less-waste pioneers. And very jealous of Mark Liu who recently got to meet her. But, without further ado, some images from Teng's latest collection are here. I hope so in any case - after six foreheads had loaded the page froze on my computer.

And here is the beauty of the message I got from Andrew Hague earlier today: a clear, concise description of what he did to arrive at the shirt in Fletcher's book (p. 153 - for copyright reasons I won't post the image here). I am posting Andrew's description here unedited - practice-led researchers every where, sit up and listen:

"The project was given as a class assignment by my instructor, Lynda Grose, and she was so impressed with it that she sent it along to her colleague, Kate.

The idea was germinated years ago when I saw an exhibit by Yeohlee Teng at the museum at FIT, where they had copies of her actual patterns on the wall. Her interest in fabric conservation was admittedly financially motivated, but I guess the idea stuck. I wanted to reassess traditional design protocol in service to "green design," instead of simply replacing one carbon intensive product with one with a smaller eco-footprint, if you will.

So I found an image of a traditional shirt pattern on the web and pulled it into a vector-based platform (Illustrator, but almost any will work). From there, I manipulated the pattern almost arbitrarily to fill out all the holes which would leave wastage. I paid special attention to the armholes, but that's about it. I let the shirt become what it wanted to be. Most importantly, I neither added, nor subtracted pattern pieces, so when I sat down to the sewing machine, I sewed the shirt the way I had been trained as a tailor's apprentice.

The result is a decidedly Kawakubo effect, but the purpose and rationale are what makes it special."

I see similarities in Andrew's approach (for example, the parameters; "I neither added, nor subtracted pattern pieces") to some of my own experiment briefs. One reads as follows:

"Use the sketch and pattern of an existing design, and test various ways of placing the pattern pieces on a particular fabric width. When the least wasteful way of cutting the garment has been discovered, look at the gaps between the pattern pieces (fabric waste) and begin to redesign the garment by incorporating these gaps into it. Use sketching, informed by what is happening on pattern, to explore different possibilities of incorporating the wasted fabric into the design. Modify the patterns until waste has been eliminated. "

Confession time. At this point, 67945 years into my PhD, this is one of very few of the experiments I've yet to do, and for the others there are good logistical reasons for not having done them yet. But, the collection is lacking 'good' jackets (=any I'm happy with) and there is a jacket I did for my label back in 2003 that has much potential; it will most likely provide me with the existing design.

I would like to thank Andrew for sharing, and I dare you to try it out. It's how it can begin. Andrew's account hopefully shows that no-waste can be as creative as you allow it to be. Finally, if you are unfamiliar with Lynda Grose, she's as pioneering and inspiring (I think) as Kate Fletcher.

the designer genius

A while back I commented on Kathleen Fasanella's blog that I sometimes fantasise of there being some legal protection for the term 'fashion designer'. It was mainly an emotional response after two recent requests for work, from people that were utterly clueless. Once upon a time I was not very choosy at all as to who I worked for, but now I simply say no to anyone that needs to have fusing explained, not to mention the notches on patterns, why it's ideal to follow the grainline I've drawn on the pattern, etc.

Reading Kate Fletcher's book on the flight today, I discovered a very different view, carefully considered (not that I'd expect anything else from the author), and found myself learning and agreeing. The final chapter, 'User Maker', is critical of how "the industry controls and 'professionalizes' the practice of designing and making clothes" (p. 187). According to Fletcher, this results in "passive fashion" and deskilled consumers reluctant to customise, repair and transform the increasingly homogenised clothes on offer (I will rewrite the paper I presented at Dressing Rooms in Oslo last year, after I've finished with the book). Fletcher is critical of the myth-building by the industry - the designer as a creative genius - and this is where my pulse went up; it's an issue that has annoyed me for years. Read almost any article or book about a fashion designer (Colin McDowell's books on Galliano and Gaultier come to mind first) and there you see it: the designer presented as a creative artist. You see, in the early phases of the project I was trying to find out how fashion designers actually work, so I could eventually perhaps understand how fashion designers might work in a zero-waste situation. There isn't much out there, that isn't dressed up in the mythology of fashion design. One might as well watch The Bold and the Beautiful. I tried to categorise fashion design and patternmaking practices at Nordes, and whilst I see holes in the thinking of that paper, it is something I will take further as the project progresses.

But back to Fletcher's ideas. I certainly love the idea of a garment that is not finished when the designer thinks it is, in the sense that it may later transform into something more special in the hands of the consumer. Cameron Tonkinwise has written about this in Design Philosophy Papers (Issue 3, 2004), about design that is not finished, about things that can keep on keeping, I think he put it. It's a beautiful paper - read it.

I'd go on but the internet cafe in Melbourne doubles as a sauna, apparently - I'm literally dripping. Tomorrow, for the papers!

Fashion design and making (part 1 of countless to come, no doubt)

I suppose that underlying questions in my research are 'What is fashion design?' and 'What role, if any, does making play in fashion design?' Increasingly, with the moving of clothing production off-shore, a fashion designer draws up a garment on the computer, specifies the dimensions of that garment through a set of measurements and emails these off to a manufacturer. A week or so later a sample garment arrives. After a fitting, any required changes are communicated to the manufacturer, usually again as a series of measurements (e.g. raise underarm 1cm; shorten sleeve 2.5cm, etc.), until a sample garment is approved for production. It is now possible to 'design' and acquire a finished sample garment without any direct contact with a patternmaker, or a cutter, machinist, etc.

A particular book comes to mind, titled 'Couture, the great fashion designers' (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1985). The author, Caroline Rennolds Milbank, covers significant fashion designers from Charles Worth (late ninenteenth century) onwards. I don't have the book with me now, but from memory, the book was in categories suchs as 'The Realists', 'The Architects', 'The Artists' and so forth. I'm not suggesting these categories are necessarily the right ones if one is to categorise different types of fashion designing, but the fact that the author has attempted to categorise these designers at least partly based on the way they work (again, I'm working from memory here) is really interesting. I also recall someone once writing that fashion designers could be divided into 'architects' and 'decorators'; while I don't necessarily agree in such a simplistic dichotomy (why couldn't a designer be both?), the labels are once again suggestive of how the designers work.

How does this relate to my research? To eliminate waste, the designer needs to be aware what the garment looks like when its components are separate and laid flat. I know from personal experience that some designers do not, and don't care. To others, the making of the pattern is absolutely integral to their design process, not because of waste, but... actually, I'm not sure why. For me, patternmaking is important because I know (most of the time) how the two-dimensional shapes will turn out in a three-dimensional garment. Now, of course, pattern is also important for me because it's key to eliminating fabric waste.

I'll get my hands on the Rennolds Milbank book at home, to see what the actual categories are, and which designers are under each.