BIAS

CONTRIBUTORS

We asked our contributors: What is so important about texture ?

arie Taillefer

M

30,000 women are estimated to have joined the processions across the UK in June, that marked the 100th anniversary of some women winning the right to vote in 1918. Their continuing political message was disseminated via the many beautiful banners on display. It is no surprise that these women chose sewing as a medium through which to communicate their

message and to make social connections. After all cloth, far from being neutral, carries more connotations than any other material. This of course is no new phenomenon: one can find examples as far back as the Bayeux Tapestry. Again and again textiles are chosen as a means of commemorating historic events, making political comment and bringing communities together. It therefore seems logical that to commemorate the world cup – a levelling event that unites the population – the BBC chose an embroidered tapestry for their World Cup campaign.

Nicola Donovan P87

What is it about thread that is so appealing? Within contemporary society there is a hunger for sensual experiences that can only be satisfied by handle and texture. We are surrounded by smooth surfaces, from screens to kitchen counters, floors and cars. Clothing is increasingly constructed from a narrow range of nylon and cotton fibre – while appealing to the eye, these leave the hand starved of stimulus. In this issue we celebrate surface in all its forms; from Anni Albers’ textural weaving, Jane and Mary Parminter’s shell gallery, to Liciê Hunsche’s work with the fleece of Karakul sheep. Claudy Jongstra’s spongy felts, Hildur Bjarnadóttir’s delicate sheers, Mari Meen Halsøy’s textured tapestry and the vintage satin and lace Julia Craig fashions into contemporary garments, are all able to satisfy the hand as well as the eye.

Corinne Julius P26

Polly Leonard, Founder

Tanya Goodwin P48

The first item I really, properly bought for myself was an old Sea Island cotton man’s shirt from a vintage shop in Falmouth. I was 14, it was the seventies, I wanted it badly and it cost three weeks of Saturday job money. This shirt felt like cornflour, cool and creamy; but it was the sound of the fabric that really got me, a sort of heavy, rolling noise. Visually, I like a misted sheen on textiles, the decadent kind that you get from cashmere, battered silk, ancient satin, chalky cotton and exquisitely wrecked velvet.

We are all so obsessed with the visual, touch has taken a back seat. Touch is perceived as only relating to sexuality. But we are hardwired to understand the world through touch and my fingers are never still. They are always stroking surfaces, feeling the difference between the top and underside of my wooden desk, fiddling with the silky pocket of my shirt, or I’m running my thumb over the suede-like surface of my chair. As I type, my feet are investigating the thick pile of my carpet. Texture helps me understand the world.

I view texture now through the eyes of my ten year-old daughter who has the heightened sensory awareness that often comes with autism. When a rough fabric can seem to tear the skin, or a raised seam causes fury, I gain a new appreciation of garment design and of how we experience the sensation of the texture of the cloth covering our skin. Together we seek out the gentleness of natural materials, soft cotton T-shirts, my mother’s merino wool hand-knits, and I’ve come to newly appreciate, even delight in, the cocooning comfort a gentle jumper brings to such sensitive skin.

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