I think the things that we put on our skins are political. The Slum Studio is allowing me to learn and relearn my relationship with dress and self-image
When I was commissioned to put words alongside these images, I first approached the 11 designers whose works are showcased here. I asked them to tell me more about the pieces that they had been invited to create for this project, and we spoke about what moves them, what triggers their imagination and consequently their creative process. What the big and overused word fashion means to them in this day and age – and of course the influence, the impact of their culture on their work, knowing that each one of them comes from a different part of the world. Parts of the world that, at first sight, nothing seems to connect. Parts of the world that are often and wrongfully under-represented. Parts of the world that are largely misunderstood, sometimes stigmatised and in which the mere act of creating clothes is a promise on its own. Palestine, Nigeria, Colombia, Ivory Coast, Ukraine, Honduras, Ghana, India and Lebanon (which happens to be my homeland and that of Emilie Kareh) collide here, in the pages of this issue of More Or Less.
At first, I couldn’t but think: what threads those worlds together, in times where our planet has never seemed so torn apart, studded by savageries and rivalries of which we have lost count? But the more I listened to the designers, the more the answer became clear. It was a detail in the email exchanges with Ukrainian designer Anton Belinskiy that made it all clear to me. Anton chose to collaborate for this project with another Ukrainian artist, Apollinaria Broche. Commissioned by him, she created a bunch of awesomely quirky pieces: a grey clay sword, as well as a crown from which fall two pendants, like reminiscences from a medieval tale.
“Princess Olga and love,” Anton wrote to me, when I inquired about his clothes. “My brand is about love and a fairy tale and self-irony.” Princess Olga of Kiev was her country’s first female saint. It was by avenging her husband, who had been murdered by members of the Drevlian tribe during a tax collection, that she inaugurated her regency. Princess Olga wore a similar crown and carried a similar sword to the ones reinvented by Apollinaria Broche.
In these images, I see this Princess Olga, or at least a modern representation of her. I see the fire; I see a fighter; I sense something profoundly political, but I also sense something deeply poetical. I see the love and I mostly see the fun, the latter being a main ingredient of the More Or Less recipe. That’s precisely what all of the designers showcased here manage to combine through their work. That’s what binds them, and binds their worlds together. And that’s what Harley and Emilie managed to portray so perfectly.
All of the designers draw on their origins, from which they defined their very personal language. Adrian Pepe grew up in Mesoamerica, “a region known as a global crossroads where local and foreign cultures clashed and integrated in the formation of the ‘New World’, including pre-Columbian societies, European settlers, African and Asian migrants.” Currently based in Beirut, he centred his textile work on fibrous material derived from plants or animals, while retracing processed and material histories, and reviving ancestral crafts to better understand today. He sees his medium as one that acts as a way “to reconnect to a sense of primalism, a return to the origins, revisiting an ancestral knowledge-based, reconnecting the viewer to processes in nature”. His traditional Levantine shepherd’s cloak is a testament to that; it is made of animal skin, but he inverted the lining to expose its fur and also braided the fibres.
Rym Beydoun, creative director of Super Yaya, also sees fashion as a vessel to translate her cultural belongings. “My brand allows me to study and highlight west African fashion and textiles by showcasing not just clothes but an environment and world that I always felt was poorly depicted,” she says. Her brand is a love letter from Abidjian and Beirut, her two cities.
All of the designers also feel a certain responsibility, an urge to fight the stigmas associated with their cultures. Cynthia Merhej, who through her brand Renaissance Renaissance is preserving the legacy of Palestinian women in textiles, thinks “it’s very important to fully embrace our culture, since we have been unconsciously taught – to the point that it gets sometimes engrained in us – that it has been ‘wrong’ for such a long time. Especially as Lebanese, it remains a constant question to understand and define our identity for a new era, and my work is a part of that exploration. Whether I want to or not, being from the Arab world and being unashamed and proud about it, our culture, the beauty of it – that’s a political act in and of itself.”
Her words chime with those of Omar and Shukri, the co-founders of Trashy Clothing: “The Palestinian cultural dress called a thobe features embroidery that represents the stories of each village – making storytelling an important aspect of Palestinian culture. Living under occupation, our culture is so important to us, as our existence is resistance. We document our identity through garments. We want people to capture the fight for representation the label is fighting for. By seeing unapologetic Arab stories, politics, kitsch pop and traditional culture embraced in our designs, castings, and campaigns.”
Despite being deeply entrenched in their cultures, these designers refuse to indulge in a candy-like nostalgia or in a desire to stay stuck in the past. This is the case with designer Supriya Lele, who was born in India and grew up in the UK. In her garments, she loves “to hybridise elements of my Indian heritage with my British upbringing to create a modern interpretation of India. It’s always been the foundation of my craft and is at the root of my brand identity. I would love people to recognise my brand for portraying a nuanced and modern approach to the idea of Indian and British culture.”
The same applies to the label Orange Culture, whose motto is to seek “new expressions of who a Nigerian man or woman can be, and the beauty that is a garment made in Nigeria.”
All of these designers definitely see fashion as a political tool. “I think the things that we put on our skins are political,” says Sel Kofiga, the founder and creative director of Slum Studio. “The Slum Studio is allowing me to learn and relearn my relationship with dress and self-image. So, yes, I would say it is a way of connecting cultures.” Cynthia Merhej of Renaissance Renaissance adds: “I’m not an Instagram activist; I never will be. I believe that art and culture are incredible political tools. Emotional connection is a powerful tool to create change, whether it’s high or lowbrow. A pop song by Nancy Ajram could be as powerful as – if not more powerful than – a couture dress.” And what is more powerful than the breakable, such as the ceramic heart and petals designed by Colombian ceramist Juan Montenegro? “These petals are my newest work and probably my most personal or true to myself. Despite their thin and delicate nature, they calm the physical force of my emotions. And in each one, I leave behind a part of me, visible through the faint outline of my fingerprints.”
What also brings all of these designers together is the pieces of themselves that they leave in each of their creations. Their garments tell their stories and the stories of where they come from. Masha Popova summarises it perfectly: “My work is largely influenced by my childhood memories of growing up in post-Soviet Ukraine. My work is a mix, the one I grew in and the one I’m in today. In Ukraine in the 1990s and 2000s I was surrounded by Eastern European glamour and knock-off fashion chic.” And against all odds, despite all the unspeakable violence that her country has been facing, she still wants the people she dresses to “feel carefree in my clothes. It’s clothing with attitude, celebrating raw beauty. It is a sexy dressing but sexy on its own terms.”
After all, by being as political as they are poetical, by honouring their roots while always looking forward, and mostly by allowing themselves to be carefree and to have fun, against all odds, what the 11 designers showcased on this pages give us here is a promise to never stop building bridges and connecting worlds.
Hair: Jawara at Art Partner. Make-up: Thomas de Kluyver at Art Partner. Nails: Julie Villanova at Artlist Paris. Set designer: Sati Leonne at Art Partner. Casting director: Julia Lange. Models: Pasha at Women Management. Nikita at IMG. Smilla at Women Management. Photo assistants: Margaux Jouanneau, Adrien Nicolay, Emil Kosuge. Digital operator: Antonio Paredes. Lighting technician: Alexa Horgan. Stylingassistants: Federica Battistino, Silke Holzschuher. Hair assistants: Selasie Ackuaku, Soukhaina Nochi Tela. Make-up assistants: Abbie Nourse, Josh Bart.