Showing posts with label design. Show all posts
Showing posts with label design. Show all posts

Saturday, 19 May 2012

Fashion: Jason Cheriyan ~ Textile craft

Jason Cheriyan: 'Design is dialogue'

(This article appeared in 2002)


IT'S THE invitation that gets me at first touch. Single threads of red and pink, violet and orange that meander across a black swatch as it flaps atop a card. It announces the collection by Jason Cheriyan to mark the third anniversary of the trendy Cinnamon Bangalore store. The tactile magic proves irresistible. It reminds me of the fine allure of chikankari when fashioned with imagination. Or the feel of Gujarati self-coloured applique, the edged surfaces that tantalise caressing fingertips. And so, though fashion is not my metier, I'm seduced by the call of texture, touch, and colour. I succumb.

 Jason's outfits offer texture imbued with subdued personality. Draped fabrics, whether patterned as skirts with long slits for sleek legs to flash through or kurtas with streamlined cuts suggest a second skin.
With each, it's the call of the skein that prevails. Whether seemingly random off-white strands that trellis a sleek white top. Or the gaze-stopping blues and purples that summon up an evening at midday, subtly marbled through with embroidery. Or the spontaneous pleat-effects on waistcoat-short kurtas.

What's distinctive about Jason's Workshop Line? "It is essentially the short kurta which is easy to slip into and out of, which is played with and cut in various proportions to lend itself in such a way that the wearer has a feeling of ease and luxury," expounds a backgrounder from Cinnamon's Radhika Poddar, referring to the racks laden with garments that range from cream-hued weaves to knobbly blacks, from luxurious cottons to purest silks in a non-traditional palette. Whether stoles or tailored garments, whether evening bags or saris, each has an invisible label attached - crafted with pride.

Can this be a designer to whom craft is a paradigm for fashion? In conversation with Jason, I find that's true to a deeper extent than I had imagined. "It's a very tactile profession, I'd say. You've got to touch and feel the fabric, work with people, weave it, embroider it, tailor it. There's never an end," explains gentle-eyed Jason, at his Workshop studio. "It's exciting because there's always something of the unknown. If you have a mindset where you've created the end, you probably won't enjoy fashion design."

Mulling over the element of the hand, I seek insights into his design overview. Jason, who also does the ready-to-wear Splash Line for the Lifestyle Store chain, offers: "I just do what I do. I hope it reflects what I am, maybe not consciously. Yes, I definitely do explore craft and the hand. Even a machine run by hand, as opposed to a power machine. That's probably the only common factor that I explore. Textures, they're important to me, as of now. But I'm not saying that's what I'll do all my life."


Jason, who did a course in textiles at the Government College of Arts and Crafts, Chennai before he signed up for an early batch at the National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), New Delhi, (where Ritu Beri, who's making waves in Paris, was a classmate), delineates an interconnection between his personality and his designs, "Basically, I like interacting with people and communicating. It's always nice to see people wearing your clothes. Our opportunities are very market-driven, but that doesn't mean ours has to be an industrial product."

What sets Jason's designs - which are available at Ogaan in New Delhi, little boutiques in Spain, the Livingstone Studio in London, besides Cinnamon - apart? It could be that he once worked with a Buddhist monk, a former designer, from a settlement outside Ooty to create a line that sold at Saks on New York's Fifth Avenue and Neiman-Marcus.

Or with another Japanese designer. Or that his label has morphed its away through Jason Cheriyan, and just Jason, to its present avatar as Workshop.

What are the intrinsic elements of a Jason Cheriyan design, which a viewer described as timeless, even verging on the classic? "Sometimes I feel design is dialogue. I seldom sketch. Most times, I talk design. Or it could be just a swatch," he replies with animation. "I think the biggest investment is people, ideas and your own motivation. Then, money. If it comes in that order, it'll work out."

Watching the transformed swathes of purple and pink sway past, the magical infusion of navy with black, the barely-there embroidery that catches one by surprise midway up a garment, or the incandescent, unpredictable turns of thread , it's easy to believe Jason. And even to subscribe to his future dream. "Asia, to me, is the most exciting continent. I think the new directions, the new trends, the new excitement is going to happen here," says Jason with fervour, then adds an individual take on the global village. "I've been working with Indian crafts. But I have a fantasy. In the future, maybe I can work with craftspeople in Africa or Latin America. I'm interested in craft, that's it."

But to return to the beginning. The brilliant invitation card, which one invitee wanted to frame, happened by accident, insists Jason. As his designs grow from swatch to rack, perhaps accidents will add to their unique texture.

It's an enticement that's hard to resist, when fashioned by Jason Cheriyan.

(The Hindu Metroplus Bangalore, 2002)

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Travel: Weimar ~ The legend of the Bauhaus



The first inkling of an art historical revelation arrives in November 2000 as a letter from the current director of the Bauhaus museum at Weimar in Germany: 'Did you know that the first Bauhas exhibition outside Germany took place in Calcutta in 1922 under the leadership of Abanindranath Tagore?'

The news is electrifying, considering that the Bauhas, the fount of industrial design in Europe, came into being only in 1919. A follow-up missive adds details to the news break: "This exhibition was organised by the Indian Society of Oriental Art. It included 250 graphic works, 35 drawings and woodcuts from Lionel Feininger, 23 drawings and woodcuts from Johannes Itten, four drawings by Wassily Kadinsky, nine water colours by Paul Klee, 29 woodcuts from Gerhard Marcks, nine graphics from Georg Muche, 83 watercolours and woodcuts by Lothar Schreyer, 57 works by Margit Tery, 49 works from the courses of Johannes Itten and two watercolours by a student named Susanne Korner".

But the best was yet to follow: "You could buy the works for just £ 5 to £ 15". That is how Herr Michael Siebenbrodt concludes his letter.

The letter contains photocopies of the correspondence between the Bauhas and the society in Calcutta. One, dated October 22, 1922, from its assistant secretary, reads: "I am directed to inform you that the pictures sent to Dr. Abanindranath Tagore for exhibition in the Indian Society of Oriental Art have reached this city, but as a very heavy customs duty is being charged, delivery cannot be taken. The packets are with the Customs and the government has been moved for orders for delivery of the packets free of duty. We shall not receive them till the decision of the government is arrived at. Kindly let us know how long the pictures may be kept here?"

Did any of the now historic Bauhaus works find a market in Calcutta? The society's letter dated March 3, 1923, lists one: Korner's work sold for all of £ 3.

Though further details of the exhibition are hard to come by, either at the Max Mueller Bhavan libraries or through contacts with an art historian in Calcutta, the Bauhaus news transports me back to Weimar in the autumn of 1999, then designated the year's European City of Culture.

The aesthetics of Bauhaus design


My first stop is a room that is purest Bauhaus. I know it from the instant I step into it. The frosty-domed lamp, with its electric cable visible within the glass shaft, harmonises function with aesthetics. Since it was first made in 1923-34, it has become a milestone of modern industrial form.

It is placed on a functional table of dark wood, adjacent to right-angled shelves in wood-and-glass. The lighting overhead extends the theme of right-angles, each tube of light slotting into the other at black T-points.

The sofa is a bright canary yellow, extending the geometric resonances. The carpet is a wondrous pattern of rusts, mustards and blues; each slanted plane fusing harmoniously into the adjacent one. The tapestry on the door extends the colour scheme, its textured surface knobby. The large glass window in the room overlooks a rustling pattern of autumn foliage.

This could pass for an unusual German office room, except that it is the recreated and restored office of Walter Gropius, legendary director of the original Bauhaus, when it was founded at Weimar, 278 km southwest of Berlin, in 1919. It was re-opened to the public on December 3, 1999.

I conjure up Gropius, intense and dapper, in my mind's eye - and the visionary architect fits perfectly into the ambience of the room. As we continue our Bauhaus trip, footnotes to the movement are provided by Bauhaus University's public relations officer Reiner Bensch.

For the Bauhaus movement was, of course, a pathbreaking attempt to overcome the results of the Industrial Revolution in Europe, to erase the boundaries between the artist and the artisan, and to realise a lifestyle that respects the creative worker.

Its large, airy building, replete with zigzag staircases, features sweeping passageways, which welcome daily gusts of fresh air. And new ideas, design revolutions in their wake.

The Bauhaus was the very first German art school reformed after World War I, to teach in the Weimar Republic constituted in 1919. Its 150 initial "apprentices" rallied around the essence of the Bauhaus Manifesto framed by Gropius: "The ultimate aim of all creative activity is the building." They were to erect a Utopian "building to which all would contribute through craftsmanship".

Bensch emphasises that the Bauhaus faculty was drawn from the most brilliant creative spirits of its time, starring the painter Feininger, the sculptor Maracks, Expressionist painter Muche, avant-garde genius Klee and Kandinsky of the Munich-based Blue Rider group.

He adds, "Johannes Itten, painter and art theoretician originally based in Vienna, became a role model. With his shaved head and round eye-glasses, dressed in a special Bauhaus uniform of his own design - funnel-shaped trousers, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom, with a high-necked jacket fastened by a belt of the same material - he superscribed to the Mazdaznan sect, with its precepts of vegetarianism, fasting, disciplined breathing, and sexual discipline. Soon, many of his students began to dress like Itten, and even to think like him."

Once, Itten showed his 1920 class the weeping Mary Magdalene from the Grunewald Altar. They try to extract its basic elements from the complex maze. Itten looks at their efforts and storms out of class. He feels if they were sensitive enough, they would have burst into tears themselves.

Breakaway. Non-conformist. Radical. These adjectives are appropriate for the Bauhaus of the early 20th Century. If its teaching methods were unorthodox, including workshops on bookbinding, graphic printing and weaving, so was its campus life. Bensch narrates: "The young men and women often had wild parties with jazz music in the nearby Ilm Park, best known in the context of Goethe. The conservative inhabitants of Weimar were so shocked by their behaviour that, when a child was naughty, the parents would threaten it: Behave yourself, or will send you to the Bauhaus."

Celebrations apart, the Bauhaus was distinctive because it admitted equal numbers of men and women, the result of the 1919 Weimar constitution that allowed women the unrestricted right to study. But the women were sent directly to the weaving workshop, where they made the acquaintance of the weft and the warp by trial and error. None was admitted to the architecture course. Was it then considered a male preserve?
Today, the Bauhaus is a hothouse of youthful energy. Students from all over Europe converge on its historic premises to plunge into courses from architecture to online design. Its faculty hopes for students from more distant climes, but with little success - mainly due to the recent resurgence of the skinhead phenomenon in eastern Germany.

A special exhibition of the fruit of the early workshop looms is on when I visited the Bauhaus museum. The walls are draped in an array of richly-textured, autumn-hued tapestries. Rusts merge into browns, veering into patches of burnt gold on one. A kite- bright carpet for a children's room, made in 1923 by Benita Koch- Otte, adorns another wall. It is a visual feast, an invitation to touch - immediately denied by the custodians of the sacred cloth.

In a room nearby stands a pot-bellied Gropius teapot with its distinctive spout, now a classic prized by European families, despite its tendency to spill while pouring. Marianne Brandt's 1923 tea essence container, squat and rotund with an unusual handle, calls for attention. Close by is Marcks and Max Krehan's round-bellied 1921 jug with abstract patterns. Peter Keler's design catches the eye, an unusual kinderwiege or cradle in bright cotton with a metal frame. Their unorthodox contours made Bauhaus products stand out in the market even then. And spawned imitations by the dozen in later years. Soon, variants on the theme became the norm in global design circles.

But, to return to the core of the first major Bauhaus experiment - the building. The initial energies of the Bauhaus were directed towards a major exhibition in 1923 (partially due to the stipulation of a government loan), including a fully furnished house, named after its site beyond the Ilm Park - the Haus Am Horn.
The house, designed by painter Muche and executed by Adolf Meyer, is now regarded as an architectural classic. Its exterior resembles a white concrete block, unrelieved by landscaped greenery beyond. Its corridor-less interior - with all the functional rooms grouped around the central living room - is a challenge to conventional lifestyles. The original model features pictureless walls in the living room, with the horizontal- vertical planed furniture of Marcel Breuer juxtaposed against a geometricised carpet by Martha Erps-Breuer.

In the starkly functional Frau's room, constructivist forms dominate the furniture, besides a round mirror on a flexi-frame. The chair facing it has an angled backrest, enhancing the contrasts of light rosewood and dark walnut. The man's chamber has equestrian-style seats that require unusual balance, while the WC is tucked into a discreet corner, with standing room only.

The kitchen at the Haus Am Horn is the first ultra-modern one of its kind. Its workshop extends in front of the window, while its chairs fit under the table. It features technical innovations like a hot-water boiler in the kitchen and a laundry in the cellar. As for the children's room, it has large wooden blocks and walls to scribble on.

Today, the Haus Am Horn is infused by the humane story of its recent dwellers. According to Bensch, the head of the Gronwald family, who lived there since 1971, was an architect with a faculty position at the local University of Construction. He brought the Bauhaus back into focus in former East Germany through an exhibition of its history. Even Muche visited them, most recently in 1983. But with the reunification of Germany, the disillusioned architect hanged himself, unable to adapt to the new reality.

During the reconstruction of Germany, Frau Gronwald and her two sons continued to live in the Haus Am Horn, treating it as an inhabited museum. But with mounting costs, she found the upkeep of the house impossible. That is when the "friends of the university" took over the historic house.

'Monument to the March Dead': sculpture by Walter Gropius


The spirit of the original Bauhaus has grown, brick by brick. Despite its relocation to Dessau in 1924 after the National Socialist victory in the Thuringian elections, and then to Berlin until its dissolution in 1933 under Nazi pressure, it remains a touchstone for movements that revolutionise lifestyles. Even today, the legend of the Bauhaus continues to thrive, from Weimar to Calcutta and beyond.