|
Cloth & Culture
NOW
the artists - Krista Leesi, Estonia
Krista Leesi
John Cage (“Silence: Lectures and Writings”) wrote:
I have nothing to say and I say it. It seems indeed, that there’s
nothing more complicated than writing about oneself or one’s
art!
The significance of Estonian culture in
my work… …I
don’t usually think about it, but avoiding cultural influences
altogether appears to be impossible. The significance of Estonian
culture in textile art suggests first and foremost ethnographic
influences. During my studies at the State Art Institute of Estonia,
we practiced quite a lot of ethnographic textile design. Even too
much, it seemed at the time. Quite soon I began to feel how some
of the unwritten rules about using ethnographic material could
be a hindrance. There is, however, much more to culture than just
ethnography.
When I think about it, my work is even a little
too Esto-centric. Many of the pieces exhibited in the show, “The Last Word
in Textile Art", with Aune Taamal, are examples of this. In
some cases, the translation of the titles of the works became rather
problematic. In fact, while writing this text, I am aware that
it too is going to be translated, and I find myself confronted
with the same problems. All kinds of puns, deconstructions of compound
words into their constituent parts, and literal interpretations… …they
might not work in translation. Or else, prolonged explanations
might be necessary of what this or that means in Estonian and so
on. That’s why I compiled a book of some of my works with
explanations and attempted translations.
Take for example the title of the book – "tekkSTIILIkunsti
SÕNAraamat" (Dictionary of Textile art). The cultural
environment of the Estonian language has allowed quite a lot of
room for playing around with words. The word tekstiilikunst means
textile art, but if we deconstruct it into its constituent parts
it becomes blanket (tekk), style (style) and
art (kunst).
An acquaintance of mine, a student of philosophy,
told me that at one seminar they had a discussion about how some
textile designer, Krista Leesi, had created a work entitled "Dress Fabric". "Dress
fabric" is a colloquial Estonian word for the cloth used for
making dresses. Yet in my work, it is the other way round –– it
is a fabric made of dresses, Barbie doll dresses, to be more precise.
Some of them were bought, others made or received as gifts from
friends and acquaintances. The piece also includes mini replicas
of particular dresses, for example Geri Halliwell's Union Jack
dress and a dress owned by my former teacher and present colleague,
the rector of the Estonian Academy of Arts, Signe Kivi. She wore
the dress to the Independence Day Presidential Reception when she
was the minister of culture. It is a simple sporty dress, the top
of which shows not the words "Adidas" or "Nike",
but an embroidered "Eesti" (Estonia). In order to notice
this, you need to be well acquainted with Estonian social life,
and to know that Signe has always stood out for the dresses she
wears to Presidential receptions.
Or then again, "The Cat’s Cradle" – a children’s
game using yarn, but the word-for-word translation of its Estonian
equivalent, kassikangas, is "cat’s fabric".
To be able to comprehend this work of art, one has to recognize
the face of the Estonian born supermodel Carmen Kass (her last
name meaning "cat"), and since the piece pays homage
to Andy, knowledge of Andy Warhol's work is also advisable. So,
there are influences from other cultures as well.
The piece "Sauna towel" (saunalina)
presupposes an intimate knowledge of sauna culture. I haven’t even begun
to think about how widespread a phenomenon it is, especially the
way we beat ourselves with a bunch of birch twigs know as a viht.
The Estonian word "lina" signifies both, the material
(linen) and a textile object of a certain size, such as a table
cloth, bed sheet or, in my case, a towel-sized installation made
of these bunches of birch twigs.
One might also mention the work "Atlas(s)pesu". "Atlass" in
Estonian signifies satin and "atlas" denotes a collection
of geographical maps, permitting the play on words that I have
made use of in this work –– I took pages from a school
atlas and sewed them together to make lingerie (one of the meanings
of the word pesu in Estonian is underwear). Since I used
the Soviet atlases from my own school years, this work says more
to those who had to study the geography of the Soviet Union. Needless
to say, I got my lowest grades in that subject.
The work “Spidersilk” should present no problems.
The Estonian “ämblikuvõrk” doesn’t
sound half as nice as “spider silk” in English. This
work is a piece of crocheted lace made of thin fishing line.
The pattern supplements found in women's magazines
are apparently a time-honoured and widespread phenomenon. It would
be interesting to conduct a study of when they were first printed
and how widely they were spread. In my Brezhnev era childhood,
the only Estonian women’s magazine was Nõukogude Naine (Soviet
Woman), which included a few pages of fashion drawings, small photos
from Western fashion magazines, and naturally, pattern supplements.
I printed a series of fabrics using one of these supplements. It
included Estonian traditional patterns as well as the patterns
then fashionable on sweaters, various embroideries and crocheted
laces all together on this one sheet. The result is a series of
fabrics with a nostalgic tinge that remind people of different
generations and different periods from their childhood.
At about the same time, I also printed fabrics
with patterns made up of the symbols used on garment care labels
(wash temperature, how to dry, iron) only magnified several times.
These “Textile
Care” fabrics should be unambiguous enough to be understood
regardless of cultural background.
This, however, might not hold true in works
where I have used picture messages from mobile phones. At the time
these picture messages came into use, they were reproduced in many
publications, where their similarity with patterns for mittens
or cross-stitch needlework caught my attention. Now, I have used
picture messages of various sizes in printed fabric patterns, in
crocheted lace, on knitted mittens and –– on a very large scale –– on
cross-stitched cushions. At first, I was worried whether I would
be able to exhibit these before the picture messages lost their
topicality as newer and more complex phones with different pictures
and messages were being launched. So far, they are still in use
and shall probably remain significant as symbols of the time. It
would be rather interesting to find out what kinds of messages
are circulated in different cultures and whether the use of these
symbols is international or only local. At one time, I picked up
advertisements from different countries, whenever I happened upon
them. What I did with them afterwards, the techniques I transposed
them into, speaks of my cultural background. Knitting them into
mittens appears to be especially Estonian, and this tradition still
exists here. Grandmothers knit mittens for their grandchildren
and children are taught to knit at school.
In “Embroidered messages from 1066”, I took a digital
print of the Bayeaux Tapestry and added various little contemporary
picture messages in cross-stitch that seemed to tie in thematically.
For example, a tank, Lenin, three Russian heroes, an aeroplane,
James Bond –– all well known symbols. Thus, I combined
the single largest known tapestry of embroidered messages with
modern embroidered messages –– a crossing of cultures
and eras in order to create new meaning.
Perhaps it is just modesty, but I don’t believe that the
textile art of a small country like Estonia could have any impact
culturally on other countries. In any case, I couldn’t point
to any specific influences. At the same time, it is probably difficult
to rule out mutual cultural influences altogether. On the one hand,
being up to date with what's going on in the world, might give
you the feeling that that’s it –– everything
has already been accomplished. This is particularly true of where
design and textile art come together. On the other hand, it provides
us with an opportunity to translate international tendencies for
the Estonian cultural system or to play them in tune with our own
ideas.
In summary, it could probably be said that my work is in many
ways toying with different cultural influences and mixing different
textile techniques.
So as you can see, I don't have much to say… …and
I said it.
Krista Leesi
30.11 2006
|
