The Crazy: It is Starting

How is it almost the end of the semester? I feel like I've just gotten started! Truth be told, part of me still thinks it is still late August back in Seattle and I am just on some kind of bizarre trip. But no. The end of the semester is coming, and I will soon immersed in the deluge of papers, presentations, and tests. There have been so many things I've wanted to share with you all, either through posts here or personal e-mails and calls, and I feel guilty about how little I have done, So, in anticipation of the end of the semester, I would just like to apologize in advance if I become even less communicative over the next month.

So, before I disappear, here is a little about what I am working on.

Most of the time when I post something on this blog, I sort of wish I had a accompanying picture. But then I go through the recent pics I have taken and most of them look like this:

Or this:

This latter is one of the unknown fibers I need to identify for one of my term projects. The fiber is encased in some sort of mysterious crust. Even my professor said "whoa! what IS that?" when I showed it to her.

In my History of Western Textiles course we have to write a paper about an object in a local public collection. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but when I was paging through a book in the library I fell in love with a 17th century embroidered bag that was made by a 10 year old (it is now in the MET). The book described the work as "amateur," but to me the skill seems remarkable. I guess that is what happens when you grow up with a corset instead of a television. I've been researching the motifs in the bag, and one of the most interesting are these figures referred to as "boxers."

Apparently the motif crops up in embroidery samplers all the time, but no one actually knows what is going on. They are always human figures, usually wearing either tight fitting clothes (which is why someone thought they were boxers) or are barely/debatably clothed, are holding a "trophy," and are standing next to some foliage. One source I found thinks that it started as a pattern from a book of "a lover offering a flower to his lady." The lady was apparently complicated to stitch, so over time she was simplified into a leafy bush. Another source was intrigued by the fact that these particular figures appear to be hairy. There might be some connection to the hairy people that sometimes show up in Medieval tapestry. They are said to represent wild people that are untouched by civilization. Here is a female example:

The project that I am currently the most excited about is my paper for Fashion History. Last year at MOHAI we discovered that there was an object in the collection that was supposedly a blood stained scarf worn by Mrs. Lincoln on that fateful night in Ford's Theater. Like good museum cynics, we all laughed at the possibility. But ever since then I couldn't help but wonder how ridiculous that claim really was. Does anyone actually know what she was wearing? U.S. Historians are nuts for Lincoln, it seems like someone must have looked into it. Right? I proposed the idea to my professor, and she liked it. So basically I am researching 1) If anyone does actually know what Mrs. Lincoln wore that night, 2) whether a scarf of that type makes sense for the time period and the setting, and 3) a little about Mary Lincoln and her fashion. It is all a bit morbid, but I am finding it FASCINATING. In essence, there is no reliable source about her clothing on the night of the assassination. The few references I've found contradict each other. The Chicago Historical Society has a bloody cape that has more provenance than the MOHAI scarf, but is far from a sure thing. If you are interested, they have a whole site devoted to a current project of research and lab tests for the cape: http://www.chicagohistory.org/wetwithblood/

I guess I am on a photo theme for this post, so here is Lady Lincoln in one of her controversial low-necked gowns:

What do you think? Do you feel like throwing a lacy scarf over that decolletage?

Karl Lagerfeld and the Magical World of Libraries

Just about a month ago, I finally landed myself a work-study gig at FIT. Like everyone else in my program I had applied right away for the two most coveted open jobs: collections assistant and conservation assistant in the museum. Besides getting to work with FIT’s magnificent, jaw-dropping collection of garments, such work would be great resume building experience. Unfortunately those jobs, along with several other back-ups, all went to other people. I was feeling sort of rejected and hopeless when I unexpectedly got an e-mail from someone at the library circulation desk. When I applied I thought it was checking books in and out (front desk! Like MOHAI!), but instead it turned out to be book re-shelving (oh…like Barnes & Noble). As dull as it sounded, I figured I might as well go in for the interview.

When the two supervisors looked at my resume and realized I wasn’t an undergrad, they took pity on me. They wondered if, instead of book shelving, I would have any interest in Special Collections. Special Collections is where all of the rare archives are kept. In terms of gaining good experience and working with amazing items, it is on par with the museum. I salivated accordingly. They weren’t sure if the department was looking for anyone, but they offered to make inquires. We agreed on the following arrangement: I would start with book shelving and they would work on getting me in to Special Collections.

Shelving books turned out to be grimmer than I expected. Besides the fact that numerically sorting books isn’t high on the list of invigorating activities, there were too many people hired for too little work. Often there were three or four of us working to re-shelve a few short piles. I would end up circling the aisles and study carousels waiting for someone to leave a book unattended so I could snap it up and return it to its proper place. [Side note: in order to learn the Library of Congress system I had to sit through a computer tutorial hosted by a wizard who told me he was going to take me on a magical journey through the world of libraries.]

One thing I did like about shelving though was that it gave me a deeper appreciation of the library and the people who use it. It is sometimes hard not to be cynical about the undergrad population, and while there are certainly those that are a few needles short of a full sewing kit, there are clearly some great creative minds here as well. They use the library as a space to get inspiration, work on sketches, finish paintings, and build 3-D diagrams on the computer. It is fascinating to walk through and sneak glances at all the work in progress. Earlier this week I saw two women painting what appeared to be a large metal doughnut. Appropriately, the library collection reflects the needs of the students. The European history section is a bit thin, but the shelves for photography, graphic design, art, architecture, textile history, and fashion stretch on and on. Printed text is all well and good, but sometimes it is wonderful just to get lost in a smorgasbord of gorgeous coffee table books.

Visual delights aside, I was thrilled to be mercifully plucked from shelving duties. The director of Special Collections was desperate for help, but had no budget approval for a work-study student. But, since the circulation desk didn’t actually need me, they were happy to keep paying me and lend me out to another department. So, late in the game and partially by chance, I ended up with one of the best work-study jobs on campus.

I felt at home in Special Collections right away. Like your average underfunded museum or library the department has a small staff with an overwhelming to-do list. That sounds like a bad thing, but it means that I was warmly embraced as much needed help and promptly trusted with an interesting assignment. I’m working on an inventory of personal papers from a woman who worked as a fashion journalist in the 1970s and 80s. The collection is organized by designer, and features mostly articles, photographs, and PR materials. That stuff is interesting on its own, but every so often I come across the archives holy grail: an original designer sketch. Of particular interest are those by Karl Lagerfeld, who if you don’t know, is a design legend who is the head designer for Chanel. He apparently destroys most of his sketches, so seeing originals of his is doubly rare. So maybe the tutorial wizard was right after all. Libraries are magical places.