Urte Kat
A steady rain falls as the sky blackens. The clouds dance like they were smoke, curling and wafting as if they could burn. They look for ash and traces of ember, emptying themselves, implicated by their innocence, they cry and become small; how often do we confuse desire for fulfillment? The land is wet and remembers. It holds out its hands to catch the sky as it falls yet again, at this point it's a trust exercise. Fall and I will catch you, heart shaped puddles surface in their memory; and it begins all over again.
Urte Kat, the Lithuanian designer, has watched this phenomenon from her window for as long as she can remember. The gloom becomes an external emotion and lingers like a shadow of the country’s past that it wishes to forget, following it around, tethered, exhaling hot air onto its neck. The country, which once boasted a powerful empire in the 14-16th centuries, experienced only fleeting periods of independence. It was occupied by Russia beginning in 1795, controlled by Germany during parts of World War II and later was incorporated into the U.S.S.R. in 1944 as one of its constituent republics. Lithuania’s rich Baltic and folkloric culture was put under wraps and Urte shares the lingering sense of insecurity that plagues its people to this day; citing the fact that many look only to the country’s recent events to define their patriotism. And yet, the same rain still falls.
It would be easy to say that Urte represents a new generation of Lithuanian creatives but that would be contrived. As our eyes glaze over penciled prints that swirl and writhe on skirts, hats and ties, they unearth a kind of quiet magic known to lost fairytales. Using lapsed symbols innate to Lithuanian mythology, Urte unearths the past, seemingly bringing to light an entirely new set of references unrecognizable to her peers but familiar to generations past. While many of her creative peers struggle with vacillation because of the lack of a linear cultural foundation to rest upon, Urte is instead building bridges, fostering new junctures by tapping into the source energy of her identity. By creating a synergetic network of native craftswomen, expanding her target demographic beyond city limits and being able to wrestle magic from secrets and shame, Urte Kat ironically presents a radical approach to modern design, edging on singularity. Coeval chats with Urte about the interiority of her world and the founding of her utopia in her first-ever interview.
You’re based in Lithuania and I can’t say I know anyone with that background. Can you tell us what it was like to grow up there especially in relation to feeling like you were a part of the creative community and the fashion industry as a whole?
Urte: Growing up here I haven’t really had a creative community experience, so I cannot speak a lot on that. I grew up in a small city and was quite insecure about my background for a long time. Lithuanians do tend to be perceived as quite insecure, cold and reserved. When I moved to London and met let's say New Yorkers, this became most apparent and I was astonished at how confident one could be, how loud and outspoken. I think the insecurity on our part is partly due to the fact that we were absorbed by the Soviet Union and had to adapt and it still lingers. I feel like most artists here take their work very seriously, which is not a bad thing, but it can get a bit grim at times. As for the fashion scene here, it is starting to really grow at the moment, we have lots of potential, and it seems that the younger designers no longer have an inferiority complex.
That’s interesting because as a generation, this idea of insecurity is pervasive and we have such skewed ideas of ourselves which then get magnified when we’re searching for pockets of culture in which we can express ourselves. I’m curious as to how you’re defining insecurity, especially in your own cultural context?
Urte: I think it's just about being from here and feeling like you don't have a lot of culture to feel confident about or seen in. We tend to avoid looking backwards towards our past and we only see culture from current events. We forget that we had this amazing culture before that and even I don't have a lot of knowledge about it. Lithuanian folklore and Baltic culture is very rich, but we are not educated enough on it. I'm trying to learn as much as I can, from my grandmother mostly but there’s so much to learn.
For your grandma for instance and her generation, I know sometimes there’s a lot of trauma related to the past and opting to forget is kind of an alternative but necessary form of healing. Are people willing to talk about the past or is there a hesitation towards it especially as you’re trying to learn more about it?
Urte: Both of my grandmother's talk about it a lot, they want us to know what they went through, how difficult it was, partly because they want us to be grateful for what we have now. We have the older generation artists here that do talk about it and they are really upset that the young have forgotten about them. Meanwhile, there's a lot of judgment against the older generation artists because they don’t have the grounds for political correctness and it's difficult for them. But these artists are definitely being rediscovered now, which is a great shift to see.
In choosing to listen, there’s a certain amount of courage that goes into that. I'm also from Hawaii so similarly, there’s sometimes a feeling of being stifled creatively when it comes to having to adopt or consider a communal mindset. A lot of the time if you are choosing to have different tastes or interests, you're kind of looked upon as an outsider sometimes. Do you ever feel pressured to assimilate?
Urte: I definitely felt that way at the beginning but I don't now. Something switched when I realized that I do not have to focus on the local market. Being part of the global market feels natural today, I do not take it for granted though and feel very lucky. I follow and support a lot of young global designers and try to only invest in young designer brands when I can, as I know how much every single order and every share on social media means. There is a really supportive community of young designers on Instagram and I find it very cool.
To take it back to the beginning, can you give us some backstory in terms of how you got your start making clothing, when you went to London, all of it.
Urte: I’ve been into clothing since I can remember. I lived in a small city and had a subscription to the Lithuanian L’Officiel Magazine which was the only international fashion magazine here. I have subscribed to it since I was 13. I would do challenges like opening an editorial and trying to name all of the designers without looking at the names at the bottom of the page.
Meanwhile, I was hiding the fact that I was into fashion from everybody else around me. I thought that I would grow up to be a painter and was embarrassed about my clothing obsession. I enjoyed having this fantasy world all for myself though and even had a fashion blog which had all of 0 subscribers.
When it was time to start applying to colleges, I was still very conflicted about my attraction to fashion and did not want to admit it to myself still. I was thinking of applying to a program in music production or acting. In a very last minute decision, I joined a design college upon an impulse. I did not have a portfolio, nor did I really know what that even was. I didn’t have any sewing skills or any knowledge about the application process let alone knowledge of the colleges themselves. Deciding to enroll at the local design college permitted me the opportunity to go to London and intern there.
London is where I learned just about everything that I know. During my time there I interned with Ashley Williams amongst other designers but Ashley was the one designer that I really enjoyed working with and learned a lot from. It was very difficult in London and I would find it really difficult to be a designer in a city like that.
What do you think makes it difficult?
Urte: Just the fact that you basically have to have a full time retail/hospitality job to pay the bills, on top of interning/studying. You also constantly run into people from the best fashion colleges who are doing the best internships and it is hard not to compare yourself to their measures of success and to stay optimistic and believe in yourself as a designer, especially when just starting out. London is very fast paced and a bit too much for me. I want to keep the balance of a simple stable life, and that wasn’t really possible in London. New York is even worse in this aspect from what I’ve heard.
It is definitely fast in New York and you also realize how small it is and I think people have a hard time expanding their own points of view when you’re a part of this network. There is a somewhat small town mentality even in this big city that dictates affinity and community etc.
Urte: I feel like it's a bit toxic. We’re lucky to come from places that ground us in different cultural settings. When I had to work with people who were originally from London or New York for example and I explained my life in Lithuania, they would try to relate but I saw that they couldn't because they have no idea how different it is here; and yet, they found the ‘Bohemia’ and the underprivileged life “cool” and they almost saw it as exotic and tried to emulate it.
Designers nowadays are always “inspired by” something but how often is that inspiration synonymous with appropriation? When something is truly representative of a culture, there's a certain emotionality that you can't replicate. They're doing research and looking at culture and trying to situate it in the context of their own design, but they can't because the whole point is that it’s about connection. I feel like they have to then tap into themselves and what they're doing but it's hard to do in a place like New York or London when everything is so external and a part of the larger community or fashion industry.
Urte: I remember meeting this designer in London who was from there and he was saying that he was going to go to Bali to get some inspiration for his collection. I remember I found that statement so weird. I couldn't understand it but so many designers do that at the bigger houses especially, but it feels strange to be constantly searching versus tuning into your own sense of self.
And as these ideas of luxury are changing, more people are now realizing that true luxury is more so about being able to be genuine with the story you’re trying to tell. I think that's really honestly refreshing to hear you say that because within our culture we're always looking at everyone else's work, we’re always comparing ourselves to each other, including people we don’t even know, and situating our individuality in the larger societal context. You’re not succumbing to the pressure of normative notions of success and what’s “required to make it” as a designer and there’s a lot of courage in that. I feel like this for you stems from your relationship to your home. It’s interesting because your customer base is elsewhere but you don’t want to leave.
Urte: I want to stay here mostly, yes, because it's my home, my family is here and my friends are here, but also the craftswomen that I work with are all here too and I don't think I could find this community anywhere else. It's really special that we have these women to work with. They work from home and set their own pricing and simply tell me how much it’ll cost to produce things, the relationship we have is very egalitarian. We speak Lithuanian, they understand what I want to reference, and they teach me a lot.
There's this cultural exchange that feels like something larger and really central to your brand. How did you meet these women and if you can kind of tell me a little bit about how you guys work together? I know a lot of your design ethos is also really rooted in this collaboration as well.
Urte: Our very first knit pieces were made by my boyfriend's mother, who really perfected them. I met our current knit ladies through the internet. We have this really old school site and I don't know how to translate it into English but basically it's for crafts people, all kinds of people who are making stuff from clay, knitting, sewing, everything. I found my first knit lady there and we started making some pieces and then I asked her if she had any friends who could help us. Then her friend joined, and then another and that’s how we got a bit bigger.
How have they expanded your perspective on how you see Lithuanian craftsmanship and the community that you're a part of there overall?
Urte: The community I want to be part of is where artisans and the craftswoman are part of the design team and their work is a major part in the creative process. They are recognized as the talent themselves, and the designer no longer is the sole arbiter of the creative vision, but a mediator, a talent scout, a link between the different talents he or she employs.
There are so many conversations in fashion right now surrounding slow fashion and sustainability and yet, you’re not necessarily tooting your own horn about the practices you have that are actually exemplary, you’re just doing what you do. Other brands are trying to carve this out for themselves now but for you, so much of it is about connection and the emotionality that's present in your work.
Urte: A lot of people ask me how my brand is sustainable and eco-friendly and it's difficult to give them an answer that I know they’d like to hear. It is more complicated than the buzzwords thrown around these days. But yes, the emotional ties that I have with these makers allow us to take it slow and we try to not waste anything. But it's not something that we read about and we want to replicate, we just do what we’re doing, because we have to do it this way. We cannot afford to have stock and that's how it is I guess.
Can you walk us through some of the prints you have that reflect the cultural nuances you’re communicating from your perspective? It’s one thing for consumers abroad to see them and think they’re cool but another thing entirely for you I’m sure.
Urte: The prints were developed with my really good friend Ruta Vebraite. I will let her talk about the prints as she was the one who spent the most time with them.
Ruta: There are two prints made - the hand drawn pencil print called “Emotional”, and the “Lover terrain” that has been created in 3D and then merged into a continuous print of the heart-shaped puddles in the mud. They both compliment each other and have a similar mysterious, dreamy, romantic and a bit melancholic energy.
While working on the pencil print, I was looking at the traditional Lithuanian folk motifs and remembering the mythological symbols from the pagan fairy tales. Urte and I are both fans of the Lithuanian anthropologist, Marija Gimbutiene, and her theory on the Goddess' culture which has definitely had an impact on the feminine and archaic symbolism in the drawings. The name “Emotional” comes from an ironic reference to feeling anxious and the Emo culture. So it is two very different and hardly comparable subjects merged into one thing. I like to see it almost as an invitation to look back at the folk tales and ancient myths for remembrance of where we come from. That’s something we’re aiming to do, replacing anxiety with feeling more grounded in the post-Internet age.
The “Lover Terrain” print certainly associates with the misty and grim autumn weather in Lithuania. Walking on the muddy roads in search of lost romance. But this should not sound so depressing, because if you take a closer look, there are heart shaped puddles everywhere in that dirt and the land is actually saying “I love you.”
Urte: You miss the rain when you leave because it's so natural, it’s like a part of you.
You're building this bridge between the duality of your cultural past and then of your own childhood as well. Again to draw parallels with Hawaii, I think for those of us who grew up there, we grew up with a very strong understanding of what our roots are and we strive to carry that on in our every day. Hawaiians are striving to reclaim that culture almost and for you Lithuanians, it’s quite the opposite. What does a modern Lithuania really look like and how are you defining your own personal utopia?
Urte: I have always wanted to build my own world in some way and fantasy plays a huge role in my life and in my work. The Collaborative work with the artist Gabriele Adomaityte that we presented last year was named ‘The Chronic Fairy Tale’. It was based on the ideas of habitual wish for escape, escapism into a self-made fairy-tale, and the necessity for folklore in this era of Anthropocene. My utopia has a lot to do with the old world, the world before Christianity, old Gods and Goddesses. I try to incorporate some family traditions into my life, things that I learned from my grandmother, like hair braiding or folk singing (when I’m alone lol) and mix it with my teenage hobbies. I just hope we can remember our roots.
Teenagehood was the worst and the best at the same time. I was a very wild teenager and a bad student. There’s a lot of resentment tied to the teenage experiences I had but nevertheless, it was a time of many formative experiences. My big brother was a huge inspiration for me. He would be emo one day and a skinhead the next, and I would absorb his every stylistic choice very closely and try to replicate them. I would get bullied badly at school for these inconsistencies [laughs] I continue to reference this time of my life, because it has such strong, impactful visuals and sounds. It feels like nothing can have quite as big of an impact on me now, but hopefully I am wrong.
There's a certain spirituality that also seems to come through your clothes and the presentation of them as well. So often we imbue material objects with higher meaning and I’m wondering how you relate materiality to spirituality?
Urte: I think it's very related, like this Spiral knit top that we have,I was taken aback at the response that we received after we released it. The Spiral motive is a strong symbol and I didn't know that people would respond to it so openly. That was the most successful item that we made and we created it with our knit lady named Snieguole. People were messaging me about it, telling me how much they loved wearing it and how it made them feel. That was really special to me, as it showed that a lot of us have these symbols ingrained in our brains and we respond to it really strongly and almost innately.
Right, visuals have an almost unspoken visual power. How do you define power? We relate it to these notions of control but I think there's also something a little bit softer to it too.
Urte: I feel powerful when I'm confident and a lot of my confidence comes from my work.
I don't know if that's really healthy and people have different thoughts as to whether this should be an external or internal matter but for me, it mostly comes from my work. Every time I work on a new piece it feels like I'm working on myself. I feel like I'm growing with every piece of work that I do and that's really what makes me confident, that's how I feel powerful.
interview LINDSEY OKUBO
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