Tenant Of Culture

Tenant Of Culture

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) series, 2019 Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) series, 2019 Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) series, 2019 Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture develops her sculptural practice by articulating a critical perspective on the social and political history of single garments, following their production and distribution to examine how they function and move in the world. However, her methodology works backwards. Starting at the end of the production cycle – the finished product – she looks into the complexities of the un-transparent labour system that is the fashion industry. Tenant of Culture refuses to embrace the environmentally friendly rhetoric that surrounds the term ‘recycling’; instead, she frames her interest as an analysis that addresses the use of products philosophically, and problematizes fashion’s monetization of ideology. By shifting the focus to the hierarchical relationship that connects producer and consumer, her work proposes an inquiry into the strategies and contradictions inherent in fashion’s contingent nature, and interrogates the performative aspects and status marking gestures that inscribe one’s participation in fashion under capitalism.

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) series, 2019 Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) series, 2019 Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) installation view at Nicoletti Contemporary, London, 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London.  Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) installation view at Nicoletti Contemporary, London, 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Your work considers concepts like recycling and upcycling. Can you speak about how you relate to them, and how you source and deconstruct your pieces?

Recycling is important for me on many levels. It started as a necessity measure; being enrolled in an expensive masters course in an expensive city a few years ago I had to find ways to source materials. I became obsessed with the charity shops in London, they don't exist in this capacity anywhere else. From there I started to become very interested in the history of a single garment; its methods of production, intended strategies of distribution and its movement through the world. But also what does a certain fabric choice, colour or button say about what a garment needs to communicate, and what is its social and political history? In Das Capital Marx uses his own linen coat to analyse the fashion industry and the role it plays in the development of capitalism. I find this methodology of working backwards from the end of the production cycle much more interesting than beginning from scratch. When a garment is already designed, produced, distributed, used and thrown away there is a lot more to discover. As a fashion practitioner you are part of a system that is extremely un-transparent. The division of labour is so complex that it is impossible to keep track of the production process of a garment. If you go to fashion school and continue to work as a designer for a large company there are so many aspects of the process of producing a garment that remain invisible. The process they teach you in fashion school is, in chronological order: mood board, drawing, toiling, final collection, show. I'm still very interested in all those aspects of the fashion process but l apply, deconstruct and visualise them differently. 

Tenant of Culture, Eclogues (an apology for actors) installation view at Nicoletti Contemporary, London, 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Nicoletti Contemporary, London. Wiggs by Franziska Presche. Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Sample Sale installation view at Paris Internationale, Paris 2018. Hosted by 650 mAh. Courtesy: the artist and 650 mAh Photo: Veli-Matti Hoikka

The name of my practice Tenant of Culture also relates to this; the allegory of the tenant in The Practice of Everyday Life by Michel de Certeau is used to look differently at the hierarchical relationship between producer and consumer. The way we often see it is that the producer dictates what the consumer buys trough elaborate strategies of staging; staging window displays, fashion shows, and creating imagery that ‘contextualise’ the garments on sale. By designing clothes into carefully curated sub-sections and themes. And we tend not to see anything other than that. That’s what we talk about and analyse. But what Michel de Certeau elaborates upon in this context is the social relations that appear in the production and utilisation of the product. In that scenario the consumer becomes an active agent in the life cycle of the garment and I find that so much more interesting. The way I understand this is that this all articulates the process of ‘recycling’ in a much more interesting way than focussing solely on the environmental aspects of recycling. I hesitate to describe my practice in terms of environmentally friendly because this rhetoric has come to be a virtue signifier in the fashion industry. It is a term that is abused and monetised so frequently that I want to explain the utilisation of existing product by addressing it in a more complex way, as a philosophy, to problematize the monetization of ideology in fashion.

Tenant of Culture, Sample Sale installation view at Paris Internationale, Paris 2018. Hosted by 650 mAh, Hove. Courtesy: the artist and 650 mAh, Hove Photo: Veli-Matti Hoikka

Tenant of Culture, Sample Sale (series), 2019 installation view at Soft Opening, London 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Soft Opening, London Photo: Theo Christelis

Tenant of Culture, Sample Sale (series), 2019 installation view at Soft Opening, London 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Soft Opening, London Photo: Theo Christelis

The presence of functional details and of certain elements of display – such as steel structures that evoke rigging, or the hooks and ropes reminiscent of sports equipment – seems to be recurrent throughout your work. Sometimes it lends the exhibition space an almost architectural feeling, creating a sense of place where waste and rubble mix with newly built structures. Where does your interest in these components stem from?

The rigging structures I use are derived in part from set design and structures used in the theatrical environment and special effects. They also incorporate bungee cord and climbing hooks, referencing luxury extreme sports or ‘athleisure’. This combination of display mechanisms is installed to support certain sculptures. It came from the idea of 'ornamental survivalism’, a trend that uses extremely utilitarian looking garments not for their functionality but for their aesthetic. Think Vibram barefoot experience shoes in a London tube carriage or a Regatta fleece in an air conditioned office. I love this contradiction that is so intrinsic to the contingent nature of fashion. When the aesthetic of leisure-survival becomes a status signifier.  A lot of these ideas are derived from Theory of the Leisure Class by Thorstein Veblen.

The theatrical element of choosing to wear such items, the idea of survivalist hiking gear in the urban environment to me is a performance. A performative gesture to communicate survivalist skills, to show fellow urban dwellers your attachment to nature and to imply that you would prosper in a rural setting. It is interesting to see this conspicuous utility trend now accelerate into a more apocalyptic one. With tactical vests and camouflage making a re-appearance. This is so telling of the sensibility of fashion. Even though the people who can afford to buy into this trend lead such comfortable lives, they still feel the need to participate. This ties back into the idea of the ‘staging’ of product that happens in fashion trough the use of elaborate set design and props that are utilised to contextualise products. The spatial elements that I use in those installations refer to this. The props are hollow and flimsy, have no apparent function but an aesthetical one, but are somehow convincing.

Tenant of Culture, Works and Days installation view at Outpost Gallery, Norwich, 2018. Courtesy: the artist and Outpost Gallery, Norwich Photo: Alec Game

Tenant of Culture, Works and Days series installation view at Gallery Gregor Staiger, Zurich, 2019. Courtesy: the artist and Gallery Gregor Staiger, Zurich

Tenant of Culture, Works and Days installation view at Outpost Gallery, Norwich, 2018. Courtesy: the artist and Outpost Gallery, Norwich Photo: Alec Game

I like how you bring into discussion the production of waste by focusing on its deeper cultural, moral and hierarchical implications. In your opinion, could fashion bring significant change in this regard? Or should we look for answers (and ask questions) elsewhere?

Waste is a part of the strategy of capitalism because everything, materials, nature, humans, animals are thought of in terms of profit. To categorise in that way means expulsion; moving people as well as materials to the periphery of existence free to be capitalised upon and used in ways that suit more profitable entities. The fashion industry is a prime example of this because the aforementioned extremely complex division of labour. Because it’s so un-transparent it is hard to point out who is responsible. The complete acceleration of the speed in which collections are produced by high street chain stores is unprecedented, the toll it takes on the environment is as well. Yet it seems hard to point the finger in the right direction. Fashion as a system will never be able to change this because fashion is the embodiment of change itself. As a fashion practitioner you have the ability to change your production methods but under capitalism your effort will not be rewarded in the form of profit, so you have to be willing to give that up or have other resources to sustain your initiative. A one liner solution such as H&M disclosing information on how their products are produced on their website is clownish and grotesque. It doesn’t even attempt to actually change its production methods and take responsibility. I guess the only solution would be to eradicate every form of industrial apparel production, but this would hurt the livelihoods of many people in countries that rely on the income of textile production, no matter how small. Change would require an economic system less anticipated on growth and progress.

Tenant of Culture, Works and Days installation view at Outpost Gallery, Norwich, 2018. Courtesy: the artist and Outpost Gallery, Norwich Photo: Alec Game

Tenant of Culture, Works and Days installation view at Outpost Gallery, Norwich, 2018. Courtesy: the artist and Outpost Gallery, Norwich Photo: Alec Game

 
 


interview VERONICA GISONDI 

 

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