The Myth of Perfection

Ain’t nothin’ perfect.

Jackie’s got good points, and although I think they are slightly tangential to where I thought I was going on Monday, let’s pick them up.

Completely 1819 to represent 1819? My standard reply to pretty much every question is: It depends. Who are you, where are you, what are you doing? Middle class or higher bride? You are so 1819 it’s scary, from your skin out, head to toe. Lower class? You’ve altered your best dress, if not made a new one, and refreshed your accessories.

Look, folks: part of our problem is that we forget that the people in the past had the same covetous, jealous hearts that we have. They had wants and yearnings, for each other, for new bonnets, for velocipedes and overcoats. They were just as interested in impressing each other as we are, even if they sublimated desire into poetic images of greater obscurity than James Brown ever used.

I thought about this notion of mixed up times for clothing as I stood on a landing at work yesterday. Skin out, here’s what I wore on 1 September 2015:

  • Black Natori sports bra, purchased in Boston on January 10, 2014 (I saw my surgeon so I remember.)
  • White cotton tank top, label gone, acquired ca. 2013, possibly from Target
  • Blue and white striped cotton 3/4 sleeve J. Crew blouse, 2006
  • Black Nike undershorts, 2010
  • Lucky brand jeans, August, 2015
  • Red suede belt with brass buckle, ca. 2004
  • Red suede Naya oxfords, late winter, 2014

The oldest thing was the belt, followed by the blouse. The most stylistically determinate item is probably the jeans, since waistline height and cut of the legs fix trouser/jeans style. So, what could this mean for us, when we dress for the past?

Let’s start with dressing for the American Revolutionary War period, 1775-1783. What you wear depends of course on who and where you are; here I am in New England, wishing I was middling sorts.

Detail, Mrs Richard Skinner, oil on canvas by John Singleton Copley, 1772. MFA Boston, 06.2428
Detail, Mrs Richard Skinner, oil on canvas by John Singleton Copley, 1772. MFA Boston, 06.242

If I wear an open-front stomacher gown in 1775, will I still feel comfortable in that in 1783, when the ladies of means around me have switched to closed-front gowns? Or will I feel like I’m wearing bell bottoms and a macrame vest to high school, while the cool girls are wearing pegged Guess jeans and Fair Isle sweaters? (Not what happened to me, but you follow my point). Think how much American fashion changed between 1975 and 1983, and while you will surely see pieces carried over– watches, headbands, socks, Tretorn sneakers– they will be primarily small pieces, accessories, and not main garments.

Lady Williams and Child, oil on canvas by Ralph Earl, 1783. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 06.179
Lady Williams and Child, oil on canvas by Ralph Earl, 1783. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 06.17

That’s really want I think we want to get at: Yes, people mixed up clothes, wore favorite things, wore things out. But then as now, they wanted to be stylish. The more care you put into imagining yourself in the past, really being that person, the more convincing you’ll be. You won’t be perfect, and authenticity is as unachievable as objective truth, but you will be closer to real, and yes, even the public will know.

The Real Thing

Talking with a friend about authenticity and realness, I remembered the moment when I really understood the power of the real thing

Meret Oppenheim Object Paris, 1936 Museum of Modern Art, NY. 130.1946.a-c
Meret Oppenheim
Object
Paris, 1936
Museum of Modern Art, NY. 130.1946.a-c

Longer ago than I care to admit, I went to MoMA with my dad, and saw, up as close as you could get to a glass case, Meret Oppenheim’s fur lined tea cup, Object, or Luncheon in Fur

I’d seen slides, and illustrations in books, but only when I saw the object did I really understand what it was about. Unfortunately, even having seen Duchamp’s “Bride Stripped Bare” in person, I still don’t get that piece. Such is life.

So what is it about the fur-lined tea cup in person that makes it so different? What is it about Jacob Lawrence’s Migration series that makes it different? Or Pollock, for that matter? Why is the real thing so ineluctable?

 JACOB LAWRENCE (1917–2000) The Migration of the Negro, Panel no. 1, 1940-1941. The Phillips Collection, Acquired 1942 © The Estate of Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

JACOB LAWRENCE (1917–2000)
The Migration of the Negro, Panel no. 1, 1940-1941. The Phillips Collection, Acquired 1942 © The Estate of Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

I don’t know, really; what I do know is that it matters. I’ve held a transparency of The Migration of the Negro, Panel no. 1, in my hand before, and it’s not as good as seeing the marks Lawrence put down in gouache. I’ve held a Robert Capa print in my hand, marked on the back with publication notes from the 1940s and it still gives me goosebumps to think of it, to think of him in the water off Normandy on D-Day. Existential ambiguity of the wrecked emulsion be damned: those images, held in your hand, are more moving than you can imagine from seeing them published in Life or any monograph.

FRANCE. Normandy. June 6th, 1944. US troops assault Omaha Beach during the D-Day landings.
FRANCE. Normandy. June 6th, 1944. US troops assault Omaha Beach during the D-Day landings.BOB194404CW00003/ICP586(PAR121451)© Robert Capa © International Center of Photography/Magnum Photos

I’ve had people say to me recently that “it doesn’t matter,” that no body will know if they’re wearing 1774-1783 clothes at a 1790 event, and I disagree strongly and thoroughly. It does matter. The mattering is the whole reason museums exist. It’s why we go to see our favorite music performed instead of sitting home with Victrola or iPod listening to the crackle of Bessie Smith² or album-produced Billy Bragg. Listening at home puts us at a remove, polishes the roughness and steps back from immediacy.

To say that the image in the book or the not-really-right clothes are the same at the real thing does a disservice to ourselves and to the public. Are we really suggesting that audiences for art or history are that stupid? Or that we are so unmoved ourselves that it just doesn’t matter?

I’m too old for nihilism. Bring on the real. Let’s get it right, because it does matter. I know when it’s real, and so do you.

 

______________

¹Sadly, this goes through my head with the phrase “the real thing.” Curse you, Douglas Coupland, for capturing my generation’s fixation on pop references.
²Yes, I know she’s dead, go with me here.

Hobby Misogyny

What do you see and remember at events? At every event I go to, I see a range of impressions, or historic expressions.

unknown artist, 18th century, The Encampment in the Museum Garden, 1783, Aquatint, hand-colored, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
unknown artist, 18th century, The Encampment in the Museum Garden, 1783, Aquatint, hand-colored, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

There are Good things: a chintz bedgown that’s actually becoming; a checked suit I wish the kid would wear; the Ugly Dog Coat Mr S wants, the umbrella I want to make just for its lines.

The Bad and the Ugly are present, too.

Drawstring shift necks, makeup, infernal bodices, Birkenstocks, sofa-size prints… “light” troops with dining flies, tables, and tin roasters. Stores tents packed with plastic packaging. White “trews” baggy as painters pants, breeches reaching below the knee, haversacks as man-purses, tube socks, sneakers, peacock feathers on women’s hats, girls with undressed hair and no caps.

What is the meaning of these bodices and tube socks: are they the disease, or a symptom? I think they’re a symptom, telling us about a deeper problem.

If “authenticity” is a journey and not a destination, everyone starts this journey at a different point, and some people are more sophisticated consumers of knowledge than others. Hard as it is to fathom, some people—even with decades of time in this— don’t know any better. I’ve encountered half-correctly dressed wives of men who’ve been to Battle Road who didn’t even know workshops are available to help them with stays and gowns. The ignorance is not always willful, even if it seems that way.

Why are some women such a mish-mash of reasonably accurate jacket with acceptable petticoat worn without stays, a drawstring shift, an OK cap, modern glasses, and a purse?

Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, Washerwomen, between 1790 and 1805, Graphite and brown wash on moderately thick, cream, rough laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Paul Sandby RA, 1731–1809, British, Washerwomen, between 1790 and 1805, Graphite and brown wash on moderately thick, cream, rough laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Do they not see the return on investment for stays and a gown and shoes and a cap and glasses and no makeup? Perhaps they don’t feel pretty when they venture out of their normal realm, and they’re only visiting, anyway. Is this the reason for the half-baked costume approach?

Or could it be that the unit commanders have set no standards for the women? That they don’t consider the women to really be unit members? Or that the women don’t consider themselves members? That they don’t matter the way the muskets do?

Could some women’s lack of authenticity—and by “authenticity” here I mean “period appropriate clothing”—be rooted in the phallocentric/musket-centric culture of the hobby? In some units, men and women seem to engage in parallel play, like toddlers, where the men field in the foreground, and the women cook in the background (women on the field is an issue I will not take up here). The men are in charge, making the decisions: the women, and what they wear, appear not to matter, and are nearly invisible. I think this is rooted in basic misogyny and the riptide of the hobby’s boys-club attitude.

If misogyny is part of why women perpetuate inauthentic impressions, then having women invested in their units and roles, with more research and more care, might be threatening to men who want weekends for themselves and their ‘war games.’ But I believe that without a significant investment by women, and by units in women’s roles, this hobby won’t survive, and it’ll be a lot less fun and educational for everyone.

That means, of course, that I think units will have to allow women a voice, and develop standards for women as well as men. Those units with the farthest to “travel,” authenticity-wise, will need to build up stores of wearable, authentic women’s clothing to loan, or include women’s workshops in their schedules. If they don’t want women and/or families participating, then that has to be clear, too, and women who do want to participate will have create their own civilian units. (I don’t have solutions for all of these issues.)

attributed to Hubert-François Gravelot, 1699–1773, French, active in Britain (1733–1745), Matrimonial Fisticuffs, with a Portrait of the Pugilist John Broughton, in the Background, undated, Watercolor, pen and black ink and graphite on medium, slightly textured, beige laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
attributed to Hubert-François Gravelot, 1699–1773, French, active in Britain (1733–1745), Matrimonial Fisticuffs, with a Portrait of the Pugilist John Broughton, in the Background, undated, Watercolor, pen and black ink and graphite on medium, slightly textured, beige laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

When the men around them don’t value or encourage their participation, and when units do not have men and women as equal members with clear standards for both, I think you end up with poor impressions—particularly women—and camps full of crap. These are symptoms of a larger problem of misogyny and silence.

Anthony Highmore, 1719–1799, British, Group of Three Ladies, undated, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, blued white, moderately textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Anthony Highmore, 1719–1799, British, Group of Three Ladies, undated, Watercolor, pen and brown ink, and graphite on medium, blued white, moderately textured laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

In recent years there have been calls for greater attention to standards for women by unit commanders. But I think that we should go further, and call for greater participation of women in real leadership roles in the hobby. That’s when you will see real change, not just in clothing, but in presentations.

And that is where I think the future of this hobby lies: in recognizing that living history events are mobile museums, not just mobile monuments.

To get more complete, inclusive and, I think, authentic, experiences will take more inclusive leadership structures, from unit memberships to the boards of umbrella organizations. That would be one small step towards bringing leadership and management into line with the modern world and current best practices in management for cultural and historic organizations. Because that is what the umbrella organizations have become. The boys’ historic shooting clubs have grown up, and it’s time to let the girls play for real, and to value women’s roles past and present.

Mind the Gap, or, The Basket Case

I was in the midst of planning yet another maid’s dress (some of us have all the luck) when a friend alerted me to an online discussion that drew from my recent post on baskets. The comments — which I skimmed but twice– made me think about philosophy and intent.

Engraved by John Raphael Smith, 1752–1812, British, A Lady and Her Children Relieving a Cottager, 1784, Mezzotint and line engraving on medium, slightly textured, cream laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Engraved by John Raphael Smith, 1752–1812, British, A Lady and Her Children Relieving a Cottager, 1784, Mezzotint and line engraving on medium, slightly textured, cream laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

There are two approaches to developing a living history persona and appearance I’ll consider here: one prescriptive, and one not. The prescriptive, didactic approach tells you what to wear and carry. Some folks like that. It is completely correct in some cases: soldiers, for example. You want to fall in with a unit of Light Infantry in 1777, it’s generally more convincing if you don’t wear the 1781 coat. Not everyone cares: some people will keep on wearing the Brighty Whitey Hunting Frocks and 1780 coats at reenactments commemorating events of 1776. Those folks can no longer be reached by prescriptive standards, and my preferred approach probably won’t reach them either.

Joshua Cristall, 1768–1847, British, Young Woodcutter, 1818, Watercolor with scraping over graphite on moderately thick, slightly textured, beige wove paper, laid on thick, slightly textured, beige card, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Joshua Cristall, 1768–1847, British, Young Woodcutter, 1818, Watercolor with scraping over graphite on moderately thick, slightly textured, beige wove paper, laid on thick, slightly textured, beige card, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Mindful reenacting or living history sounds pretty nutty, but that’s what I would encourage. Thoughtfulness. Consideration. Not just the what, but the why. Why you wear or carry something can be as important and interesting as what you’re wearing and you’ll be all the more convincing for thinking it through. Thinking, not rationalizing. How appropriate is it to be in your best clothes carrying a basket also used to carry fire wood? You have to answer that for yourself, and if you’re doing it right, the answer will not always be the same– nor will the question!

Print made by James Bretherton, ca. 1730–1806, British, A Maid, 1774, Etching on moderately thick, rough, blued white laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection
Print made by James Bretherton, ca. 1730–1806, British, A Maid, 1774, Etching on moderately thick, rough, blued white laid paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

This isn’t the easiest way to go about anything, asking all these questions, but for some of us, the experiences make it worthwhile. You won’t always be able to do, carry, or wear what you want.* But the picture you create of the past will be more accurate and more engaging if you think more and justify less.

Look, I threw down about that floppy bird basket, but I have to provide food to troops this Saturday in Cambridge. What the heck will I carry it in? What will I take my sewing in?**

Probably a wallet and a bag, unless I can pack that floppy basket convincingly– it is entirely suitable to my lower sorts-stained gown impression– but if I can’t, I won’t take it. And that’s just one less thing to carry.

*I’m pretty much always the maid to make scenarios work, and while it doesn’t come naturally, art imitates life.

**Prays no one gets the bright idea to bring (shhh) tents to work on.