SENSING SPACES

Architects, generally speaking, are a right pain in the proverbial. Let one into your home and they won't leave without telling you to build up, down, sideways, or knock though. I should know because not only do I have friends of this profession persuasion but I also grew up with one and were surrounded by them. From an early age I knew my perpendiculars from my gothic revivals having been dragged around every building of note.

So why would I want to visit an exhibition devoted to Architecture? Well despite, or maybe because of, all of the above I love structure, and the qualities of space, light and pattern that structure creates. 'Sensing Spaces-Architecture Re-imagined' at the Royal Academy explores all those aspects by commissioning a range of global practitioners, such as Kere Architecture and Kengol Kuma and Associates, to create site specific instillations adhering to the brief of inhabiting space in a way that transcends the visitors traditional notions of what Architecture constitutes. This exhibition is interactive and sensory, inviting the viewer to experience the exhibits not only through sight but touch, smell, and actual participation in a growing construction- to become part of, and form shape within, spaces that have already shaped the space within the actual galleries.
At the end is a wonderful film where all the exhibitors talk about their approach and considerations to the process of designing buildings. A common consensus was that it could have been made into a series of six films about each architect as it was so engaging and interesting.

Above and below
Pezo von Ellrichshausen's raw wooden platform on four columns housing spiral staircases.

Below, a normally ignored gilded angel near the roof of the gallery is given a chance to shine through a viewing opening in this pine castle.

A re-enforced concrete arch by Eduardo Souto de Moura that mirrors the original gallery wooden door frame.

Above and below,

Diebedo Francis Kere's continually evolving plastic straw tunnel.

The Human Loom led by Eleanor Pritchard, weaving plastic straws.

Kengo Kuma's delicate calming sent-infused wave entwined bamboo growing from embedded floor tea lights.

 

Another concrete arch by Souta de Moura. This time mirroring an original marble arch

Li Xiaodong's maze with walls of rough thick twigs and surreal moon floor

Above and below,
Shafts of misty light add atmosphere to inky sepia space by Grafton Architects.

The result is a highly stimulating creative journey through light, shade, void and form which also challenges one to reflect on the wider issues of architecture that we should all be concerned about- what we build, where we build and how we build. 
Shelter is one of our most basic requirements and as the London* population rises and property prices force most of us out of the city leaving wealthy enclaves, and divisions between rich and poor grow even wider, how do we accommodate all. We all moan when another homogenous building is erected but one has to remember  architects working in the public sector can only be as creative as his/her client and budget will allow, but not forget that cautionary tale from the 50's-70's where the town planners and architects, left to their own devices, dictated a post war vision of Utopia which turned into a living hell. We also have a government whose agenda seems to be more about privilege rather than provision so maybe it's time we take a more active role in how we house. We now have to consider issues of sustainability, affordability and with an ever increasing population how we use space. The creativity on show at the Royal Academy can give us all hope that architecture can be inclusive and engaging for us commoners.
On a very personal note this exhibition also reminds one of the pure joy of making. As a child I constantly made and constructed- toys, clothes etc. I built a whole village in my bedroom for my collection of felt mice. Shoe and chocolate boxes became houses, flats,schools. I was Toytown planner extraordinare. Incidentally, by way of tangent, it was a matriarchal society led by Granny Mouse by virtue of the fact she the biggest mouse and had little wire glasses, although she was aided by her purple frock coated son, Pierre, so named after Pierre from War and Peace [I wasn't a particularly precocious child in that I was reading Tolstoy at the age of seven. There was, at this time, a BBC dramatisation of War and Peace staring Anthony Hopkins].
Sensing Spaces is on until 6 April and I would highly recommend it. 

*As a Londoner I can only really comment on what's happening in my own city.

MR PEARL

I was going though a box of bits the other day and I found a tiny beaded sample. The sample was for the bodice of the last gown of Christian Lacroix's 1996 Spring/Summer haute couture collection. This was the very first thing I ever made for Mr Pearl on a cold dank day in January 1996, sitting at an ironing board for a desk in a cramped Arnold Circus flat kitchen, off Shoreditch High Street. It was the beginning of a working relationship that endured for the next 10 years. 

This was the second time I'd encountered Mr Pearl. A result from a call, on his behalf, from jewellery designer, Scott Wilson, asking if I would be interested in working on a piece for the upcoming couture collections. I jumped at the chance. 

I had first met him in an attic in St John's Street, Clerkenwell in 1994. This was Erickson Beamon's workshop where I was employed at the time making and designing fashion jewellery. There were nine of us[one of whom was the above Scott] squeezed into a room of Lilliputian proportions, where all wall space was lined from floor to ceiling with box after box stuffed with beads- sparkling Swarovski crystal beads, glass beads, vintage beads, plastic beads, metal beads, opaque, clear, frosted, smooth, faceted, every size, shape and hue.
One day a slight man appeared in the doorway of this chaotic cave. He was impeccably tailored and immaculately groomed, scented by Floris, with his waist clinched by a tan leather waspie that accentuated it's 18" circumference. He came to where I was working and, looking over my shoulder at the crystal earrings I was constructing, breathlessly breathed 'How Exquisite'. This man was Mr Pearl.

CHRISTIAN LACROIX HAUTE COUTURE             

There's a tale about a bitter rivalry between two Belle Epoque Parisian courtesans, who on hearing they would both be dining at the same restaurant one evening, decided to try and out do one another. The first made her entrance wearing every jewel she owned to gasps of her fellow diners- the second made a later ingress, not only adorned head-to-toe in jewels but was followed by her maid carrying the rest. This story and a Lacroix scribble were the inspiration for what went on to be a couture bestseller- we ended up making five [including the original] unheard of for such an expensive gown.
I made what Mr Pearl referred to as sweets, encrusted jewels assembled from a myriad of Swarovski stones and beads and seed beads. Around three hundred of varying sizes. I then strung half into opulent swags, adding hanging teardrop crystals, to adorn the front, shoulders and hips, petering out at the back. The rest were sewn onto the bodice so the effect was that of a jewel box being thrown over the wearers head and landing randomly. 
This bodice sat above a thirty metre hand-woven silk/metallic cloud of a skirt and was shown to much acclaim. It was a reply to the appointment of John Galliano at Givenchy, that the old-skool couturiers could still cut it, and ushered in a period of renewed interest and creativity in haute couture.
The orders for this gown were from the world's wealthy. Private individuals for personal occasions, weddings,anniversaries etc.The last one we made was for an Arabian princess in 2002, by which point Mr Pearl had relocated to Paris. I made the sweets in my mothers music room in her house in Camden, where I conversing after a serious illness. I then went to Paris to work them onto the bodice.

It was May, and thinking I would skip around Paris in my summer finest hadn't bothered to bring a coat. It turned out to be as cold as a penguin's bottom so Mr Pearl leant me a beautifully tailored tweed overcoat that had once belonged to Bunny Roger. So there I was in a lawn dress swamped by a massive coat and ,due to a broken toe, limping in battered aged Adidas Gazelles two sizes too big. I must have looked like some bizarre emirgre.
By day I sat beading in Mr Pearls workshop, a stones throw away from his beautiful 16th century apartment behind Notre Dame -the bells, the bells, they were so close that every time they tolled one's spine would rearrange it's self. At night I would have either a picnic in my hotel room on the Left Bank, that mainly consisted of patisserie and wine, or I would eat out on the allowance that Pearl had so generously given me where I would be plied with free Calvados from over attentive proprietors.
We went on to create other opulent pieces for Lacroix like the black bodice below. I made spidery, spinally jet bead and crystal flowers with tiny drops like tar tears, which were attached to the decolletarge. 

STARS ON SPRINGS

In Mr Pearl's new location of Leroy House on the Balls Pond Road we had been discussing 'En Tremblant', an early 19th century trend for setting jewels on tiny springs, especially on diadems, so when the wearer moved the precious stones would quiver and sparkle seductively. Pearl was very keen to do a piece that incorporated this and some metal star shaped sieves he'd found in Paris. On his return from a meeting with John Galliano about the designers Spring/Summer 97 Circus Collection and armed with an still of Gina Lolobrigida from the film Trapeze for inspiration [one of my favourite films...incidentally] I saw the opportunity and turned to Pearl and said 'What about stars on springs'.

The Showgirl Corset for John Galliano 97.

I spent two weeks with the help of Scott Wilson beading diamante stones onto star shapes set on springs, in an array of sizes. These were sewn onto a midnight blue satin corset. It was so intense that two days before the deadline I slipped a disc and was rendered completely immobile. I felt so bad I'd let the side down that I burst into tears on the phone to Pearl. His reposte was that 'a bit of tight lacing would sort my back out'.

The Circus Collection

In 2004 we were commissioned to make another star corset. This time for Kylie Minogue's 2005 Showgirl tour, which was later seen in an exhibition at the Victoria and Albert museum. This piece differed from the original as it was a deep royal blue satin and the stars were sewn flat against the fabric

Above, Kylie on stage.
Below, a detail of the corset showing the beading and some of the stars I made,

THIERRY MUGLER HAUTE COUTURE 98-2000

I had missed a couple of seasons and on my return found that Mr Pearls atelier had grown from 3-5 employees to 20-25 doing a roster of day and night shifts. His coterie included seamstresses and cutters from theatre, opera and fashion, beaders, embroiderers and a menagerie of extraordinary personalities. During this period I met people like Johanne Mills and Ali Brown who I went on to work with at later dates.

At this time most of the commissions were for perhaps the most extreme intense couturier, Thierry Mugler, with his exaggerated female forms and no expense spared. Mr Pearl had met Mugler in New York some years previously and had worked with him many times, most notably on the designers 'Insect' collection where Mr Pearl had created a gown based on butterflies wings for Jerry Hall.
Mr Pearl brought me in to work on the Autumn/Winter 98 collection where one of the gowns was a beaded tweed sheaf dress with matching scarf and a Donegal tweed coat. I was to make some kind of tassel to edge the scarf. I constructed beaded spiral tubes from seed beads and tiny 3mm crystals which were finished at the ends with a large zeppelin shaped crystal.

Mugler Winter 98/99. 

20:47 is when the beaded tweed comes up and you get a lovely view of the tassels when the model turns around.

Worth watching the whole way through if only for the Cyd Charisse finale.

If there is example that sums up what Haute Couture is about it would be the gown we made for the Mugler Spring/Summer 1999 collection. Black cobweb lace edged nude chiffon in a dress that looked so fragile that if you touched it it would turn to wisps of cloud but belied the amount of labour that went into it's construction and the quality of craftsmanship.

At this point I'm going to start raving about Sally's* chiffon seams. Anyone who has ever sewn this fabric knows what a contrary creature it is. It slips, slides and snags but Sally's French seams were beauty incarnate to behold, unseen flawlessness as they were on the inside of the garment.

The black lace edging was beaded but also had beaded lace inserts made by my good self and a little team Mr Pearl and I had assembled. I developed a method of freehand beading so any shape, however abstract, could be made. We would get paper patterns of the cutouts from the lace and would have to reproduce the shapes exactly to size.

The lace panels were sewn, with upmost care as to not bruise the silk, onto the chiffon gown by white-gloved hands, and connected by black beaded lines. 50 5mm jet crystals acted as buttons down the back opening, each accompanied by their own hand fashioned silk loop fastener.

I also constructed a tiny trim made purely from bugle beads and jet crystals that edged a matching mask that was stuck to the model's face.

It is this attention to detail and craftsmanship that is the true essence of haute couture. Perfection , inside and out, from the fabric- often hand-woven, always hand-embroidered/beaded- to the fit to the making and all hand-finished- hems to button holes- with the aim to create a garment that is unique every time. No sticking crystal stones on with a glue gun on to a garment as the model is just about to hit the catwalk [I have seen this happen].

*I must apologise for not being able to remember Sally's surname. She was the most incredible seamstress and came from working with Deborah Milner.

Back detail of lace chiffon gown

Iman in Mugler.

Some bead lace samples. We also made a wedding dress using this technique entirely for the bodice.

The next Mugler couture was the last one we worked on [and unbeknown to us was also to be the last Thierry Mugler couture collection ever]. The mood was much subdued. Mr Pearl had decided to move to Paris so was shutting down his London studio. We knew we would, as a group, never work together again.

ISABELLA BLOW GOWN.

In between the couture collections there were other commissions with Mr Pearl from a wedding dress for a Rothschild to jewelled papal robes for pickled puppies for an art exhibition in Paris, but the most opulent and phenomenal was a gown for Isabella Blow.

An under dress of the palest lilac ombre dyed to deep lavender silk chiffon was topped with a seed bead encrusted external skeletal cage from which numerous peal-strung Swarovski strands swagged around the hips or hung in tassel clusters to the ankle. The beadwork mirrored the graduated colour of the fabric going from crystal to silver to light amethyst to deep violet. There were also Swarovski swags draped off the shoulders.

Above, the late Isabella Blow in her Mr Pearl gown.

I also made her necklace, cuffs and the dragonfly that's in her mouth.

THE LAST CORSET.

The last piece I worked on was a corset for Swarovski Runway Rocks, shown in Mumbai and London in 2008. It was inspired by those wonderful photographs of Indian Maharajas bedecked in their specially commissioned Cartier jewels. Mr Pearl arrived for a meeting at my flat with a beautiful delicate, detailed, pencil drawing of what he was envisaging, boxes of Swarovski, and a bottle of gin. I set to work creating a very ornate necklace, amulets, chocker and hip-swags as well as four crystal tassels. 

POSTSCRIPT

I feel very privileged to, not only have worked in couture during this exciting inspired period [I look back on this extraordinary body of work with amazement], but more importantly to have been able to have worked with Mr Pearl. He was incredibly generous to me and trusted me to go off and just create. At the start of every job Mr Pearl would say 'Jessie, is it possible to.....?', and I'd think lordy what has he got in store this time- it was always challenging,  especially as Mr Pearl would go for beads smaller than grains of sand that no human made thread would go through. I always had to use my brain and the more difficult the request the more rewarding it was when I cracked it [although the orchards made from seed beads from the last Lacroix job nearly finished me off]. Perfectionists aren't the most insouciant to work with [sometimes when things got a little too pressured I would pop down to a pub on Essex Road for a quick gin to steady my nerves} but I learnt a huge amount about aesthetic placement and that execution is just as important as concept. As Mr Pearl once said to me 'You know, Jessie, everything has it's perfect place and you keep going till you find it, do you see?'

I've only talked about the commissions that I worked on, a part of Mr Pearls phenomenal body of work. I hope that one day a curator has the foresight to exhibit his work all together because what ever your taste is there is no denying, especially when we are becoming more and more homogenised and less interested in originality [I'm amazed at the amount of appropriation that's going on in design at the moment], that Mr Pearl has a unique vision.

ALL THAT GLITTERS

Whenever I teach a workshop I always say one can construct a tassel from any material and to prove my point here are some tassels made from various metals , mainly brass, but some painted iron or plated tin.

A brass drawer pull

More brass drawer pulls

Copper tassels

This tassel forms the base of a table

Painted iron tassels adorning a staircase

My favourite earrings, 1980's Butler and Wilson

LONDON DESIGN FESTIVAL 2013

Jessica Light Trims and Tassels, having shown at The London Design Festival for the last five years, decided we deserved a well earned breather and this year became spectator rather than performer. So here is our meander through the shows and some of our personal highlights.
Leading the pack was Wrong For Hey. A design collaboration between Danish brand Hey and London designer Sebastian Wrong which resulted in a collection of furniture, textiles, lighting and accessories all showcased in an exquisitely restored Georgian town house in St James Park.

What I adored here was the juxtaposition of modernist aesthetics within a historical context and how well the two styles either bounced off or completely married with each other, so on occasion it was difficult to tell what was what, what?
There was a rational to this show- the evolution of design while recognising it's heritage. Those Georgians knew a thing or two about harmony of space and proportion. With their clean line of spatial symmetry, muted hues and quiet interiors [although they weren't adverse to the odd splash of decoration as seen in the Chinoiserie craze]it could be argued that they were the first to venture into minimalism [unless you wanted to be really pedantic and bring up the classical influence on 18th century design]. It could also be said that they invented the discipline of design as we know it today with this period seeing some of our greatest designers in action- Adam, Chippendale and Gibbs. So using this backdrop to show this new very contemporary collection seemed entirely natural but at the same time quite brave.
I sometimes feel that certain sections of the design community tend to want to compartmentalise everything - You do that so you belong over there and your style is this so you have to go there [snore]- and the never the twain shall meet- but it's the mixing of concepts, ideas and movements that can sometimes produce the most exciting visual experience, and this is what happened at Wrong For Hay.
Chomping at the bit were one of my favourite brands, Front. Having first come across their exquisitely made silk carpets at Decorex two years ago I was instantly smitten. Then they were showing muted Turkish inspired designs that were purposely worn and faded in places. A look I've since noticed elsewhere in rugs and wallpaper [could Front have instigated the new dip-dye?].
So what do you do when everyone starts jumping on your wagon of bands? You do what Front do and move on visually. Fronts new collection, based on Eastern European folk textiles were bold, bright and helped along with what looked like splashes of bleach or dye, but were actually part of the patterns.

Above, Front who showed both at Superbrands and Decorex

Tortus covetable ceramics

Frolicking in the paddocks was one of the main colour stories I noticed, a, dare I say dirty, mix of odd colours with a teeth squeaking acid yellow, grubby lavender,flat smoke blue and Germolene pink at it's core. These tones were very much in evidence in the beautiful fragile ceramics of Copenhagen company, Tortus, who were at Tent London and some of Farrow and Ball's new paint colours at Design Junction.

Below, Farrow and Ball's new paint colours.

More off colour schemes could be seen on the Wovenground, the one-stop rug source, stand at Design Junction. This company stocks another of my favourite textile brands, Gan Rugs.

Oddball colours on the Wovenground stand

Spanish company Gan Rugs, born in 1941, make not only rugs but co-ordinating modules. Giant knits, oversized unfinished cross-stitch and magnified plaits are used to create pattern and texture while creative use of colour combinations imbues mood and atmosphere. Their impressive roll call of designers include Patricia Urquiola.

Above and below, the wonderful Gan products.

In fine fettle were the new upholstery fabrics from Eleanor Prichard seen below.

Designed and sampled in Eleanor's Deptford studio and woven in Scotland on the Isle of Bute, these wool reversible geometrics, in a colour palate of neutral navy, grey and chalk with a dash of blood orange, are a wholly British affair [Hurrah!]

In the first instance these highly considered cloths will be probably be banded into the Mid-Century genre [more boxation], but they have much more depth and versatility than that. I was reminded of traditional timeless Scandinavian Rep weaves, a sturdy structure, that goes back centuries which resulted in tough textiles used for rugs, runners and seating. 
I think Prichard's new fabric designs have a timeless longevity, and would work well in many different stylistic settings and I believe Eleanor has plans for some exciting furniture collaborations.

Ceramic eyes at Squint

On a more quirky note were the carefully arranged clusters of surreal, almost cartoonesque, eyes from ceramic artist Myung Nam An at Squint, that observed you with wry humour and an anemone charm. I was also reigned into the artists interesting use of colour.

Daniel Heath, who showed at Tent London, produces detailed, delicate images inspired by nature that adorn bespoke printed wallpapers and material surfaces such as mirror and glass. I was particularly drawn to his etched reclaimed Welsh slate tiles that provoked an ethereal lyrical nostalgia -Dylan Thomas gently canters the country lanes with the Bauer brothers.

 

Daniel Heath's etched slate.

LeD's stand at Decorex was a weavers delight and it was fascinating to meet and talk to the designer behind this exciting textile company, Luc Durez.

Durez's weaves are sampled by him on his hand loom and then Jacquard woven in his native Belgium. Abstract, textual and some with such large repeats that they look like unique single panels, these shimmering weaves were all constructed out of man-made fibres woven into metal warps. 

An LeD weave

As stated at the beginning we didn't show this year but that wasn't entirely true and we trotted onto the Curiousa stand at Decorex.

As for next year? We'll be back with a new high-luxe thoroughbred collection of passementerie and a new [budget permitting] exciting product launch. What and where? Well keep an eye on our stable door.