the textile blog

Illustration: Josef Maria Auchentaller. Pattern work, 1901.

A new designer to this site and a new designer to many I should imagine. Josef Maria Auchentaller was a trained fine artist and print maker who produced fine art paintings, illustrations, poster, textile and jewellery work. Although an Austrian and involved in the Vienna Secessionist movement as well as the more general Art Nouveau decorative style, he spent time in Munich as well as Vienna. However, a large section of his life was spent in Italy; he became an Italian citizen in 1919.

A fascinating and complex individual, Auchentaller certainly deserves a good biography of which there doesn't seem to be any, and even perhaps a gentle little film of his life living on the shores of the Adriatic. However, this article will deal with the small slice of his career when he produced these five pieces of design work, four being definitely textile designs, whilst the colour example being given the euphemistic title of 'pattern work', though this could well be a textile design as well.

Illustration: Josef Maria Auchentaller. Textile design, 1901.

All of the examples are from 1901 and while having certain similarities and shared experiences that can identify them with the Jugendstil/Art Nouveau movement, they are also very much a significant part of the creative experience that was Auchentaller's own character and individual skill. He was, as is evident, interested in and influenced by Japanese woodcuts. He had a degree of experience in book illustration as he was fairly heavily involved in producing illustrated work for the Ver Sacrum magazine, the official Viennese Secessionist vehicle. At some point in the future, I will produce an article showing some of the work that Auchentaller produced for Ver Sacrum.

Illustration: Josef Maria Auchentaller. Textile design, 1901.

These five examples of Auchentaller's design work are extraordinary, particularly considering that they were produced in 1901. They are so alive with vibrancy and an energy that could easily have placed them alongside some of the best of the textile design work produced in the 1960s and 1970s, more than half a century after they were initially produced. It is always interesting to come across a designer who is able, at times, to step outside of the constraints of their time period, to produce work that can charm and inspire future generations, those who have been untouched by the framework of working decorative movements and eras.

Illustration: Josef Maria Auchentaller. Textile design, 1901.

Auchentaller has managed to step outside these constraints with an ease and familiarity that shows a deep professionalism. His work does create a certain familiarity with the themes of the period, whether that be Japanese aesthetics or Art Nouveau draughtsmanship, but they also show an understanding of the importance that should be placed on individual creative freedom. This could well have developed from his fine art painting perspective, often a discipline that pays little attention to the everyday trials and limitations that are so much a part of the commercial design world.

Whether these five designs ever got past the drawing stage, is hard to tell. So much design work from this period had more to do with aesthetics and the projection of what was possible, rather than what was to be practically available. However, it would be wonderful to think that the European buying public of 1901 did have the chance to go out on a limb and purchase contemporary fabrics that were this vibrant and this adventurous.

Illustration: Josef Maria Auchentaller. Textile design, 1901.

It is certainly vital that design work produced by such talented individuals as Josef Maria Auchentaller, should be seen as both stand-alone moments of inspiration and creative talent, as well being seen as integral to the world of 1901. We should certainly be aware that not everything from that particular era was as heavily bolted down and suffocatingly stifling as we believe. It is often our contemporary world that projects our own viewpoint on to that of another era, and this can be a problem particularly if we are unaware of it. Often the historical era might well have not recognised itself from the perspective given it by future generations. Something to think about as the world we live in continually slips into the past, to be judged and reorganised and reidentified by future generations.

Further reading links:

Illustration: William Morris. Avon design, 1886.

I want to be able to address today the key point as to why I spend time producing this site along with its various aspects, whether that be articles, ebooks, imagery, or social networking. Some may only see looking back in time as a feature of indulgence, a misty-eyed nostalgia for a lifestyle that can never be ours, but that isn't the point of this site, nor is it the point when considering the past as a source of inspiration.

Looking back at the work and, perhaps more importantly, the working practices of previous generations, helps us to formulate new approaches to creativity in our own contemporary world. It is a poor generation that does not at least pay a nod of recognition, if not gratitude, to all of the previous generations that have allowed us to be where we are today. It is those generations that have helped to formulate, structure and energise our world, for better or worse, and it is we who will at least partially shape and structure the world to come. This is a heavy responsibility that the individual is rarely aware of, but it is there nonetheless.

By looking to the past for inspiration towards creativity and better working practises, it should be hoped that we can foster a better world outlook to hand over to future generations. One that values the balanced, harmonious and holistic, that sees the positive aspects of both the natural and artificial worlds, understands the values inherent in both hand and machine production, limits the quantity and quality of waste, and celebrates the diversity of human creativity.

Illustration: Transylvanian woven wall hanging.

I hope that sites such as Design Decoration Craft are not seen merely as nostalgia sites, encasing readers in a world of 'weren't things so much better in a non-specific olden time', they clearly weren't. However, the purpose of looking back, as far as this site is concerned, should be to learn from past creative worlds, to bring ideas and inspirations forward to the present in order to then face the future anew.

We should all be aware that our contemporary creative outpouring is a direct consequence of the building up of experience, innovation and understanding, layer after layer, the result of countless generations that have gone before us. That we will eventually be added to that reservoir of experience for future generations to use, is both humbling as well as satisfying. It is the continuity of experience that is the enduring legacy of our species and the creative process is such a large proportion of that experience.

So much can be learnt from those who went before us, whether it be a well-known figure such as William Morris, or an unknown peasant embroiderer or lace maker. Each has a story to tell, each has added to the vocabulary of creativity that we use in our everyday lives, and each has validity.

Illustration: Woollen tapestry bedcover from Jamtland, Sweden.

Although much of what I post on this site deals with aspects of historical creativity, it is a site that very much looks to the present, and indeed the future. In many respects, if we ignore the past then we impoverish our own present and eventually the future of others. By incorporating at least elements of those that have gone before, we enrich ourselves, as well as the world around us, and that surely is for the betterment of all.

Further reading links:

Another ebook has been launched today and I should imagine this one may well be suitable and helpful to many out there. The book is entirely devoted to the pattern work of William Morris and covers his work from the 1860s to the 1890s and beyond.

The book has a short introduction and a list of illustrations; the rest being dedicated to 105 images of 88 unique pieces of design work, each pattern has a separate page to itself, so there is no cluttering of multiple patterns on one page. All of the imagery is in full colour, with both completed pattern work as well as a number of drawings produced by Morris himself.

I think personally that although Morris is well known and much of the pattern work in this book will be familiar to many, it is still a good idea to collect together work that follows a particular theme, in this case, the paramount inspirational guide of nature, as well as following the career of a creative individual such as Morris. So much can be learned and so much can be of use inspirationally from designers of the past and to be able to take such pattern work forward into new avenues of creativity, is a must for all of us.

Whether you use this ebook for inspiration, guidance, reference, or just pure enjoyment, I hope that it proves a useful tool. I am thinking of producing some more books in this field and while I do have some ideas as to themes, if anyone has suggestions as to what they would like to see, I am more than happy to see what I can do.

As always, the book will be available from the ebook page, which can be found by pressing the Ebook tab at the top of the page. It can also be found by pressing the book cover photo on the right hand side of this site. The eight other book titles, including six written books and two reference guides, can also be bought on the ebook page.

Today, something a little different. I have decided to highlight some contemporary innovative expansion of the traditional Maori pattern work from New Zealand/Aotearoa. It is the work of Mitch Manuel and is based on both the Koru, the symbolic curl representing the fern, as well as the Kowhaiwhai. Some of you may remember I produced an article about Kowhaiwhai a while ago, the article can be found here.

Mitch Manuel takes the Maori decorative traditions, deconstructs them, and then reconstructs them again, producing a completely new pattern range, with seemingly infinite possibilities of the decorative formula. This is probably the best of decoration, taking tradition, understanding its formula and importance, and then reinterpreting it not only for the individual creative concerned, but for a new generation of consumers.

Decoration should always be seen as part of the contemporary world and not one only limited to the often locked world of past traditions. That we build upon the creative pathways of our ancestors should be a given fact, but we must also add our own unique footsteps to that journey. If we only pass down the traditions of the past, without adding any new innovations and creative reimaginings, then we become invisible and non-participants in the ongoing exploration of human decoration. Mitch Manuel is clearly part of that process, a process in which decoration is, and should be seen, as being as vital to the human condition as singing and storytelling, with as long a history and as long a potential future.

The following excerpt by Mitch Manuel explains in his own words some of the leading ideas behind his own personal interpretation of the Koru and Kowhaiwhai, as well as a wealth of inter-cultural influence and creative inspiration.

SACRED GEOMETRY

From nature, our Ancestors found sacred geometry in the most fundamental of patterns. Like the fern frond, the Koru in which it takes its shape, is an expression of life. It is also an expression of Sacred Geometry. That is, mathematical proportions throughout nature which Maori have been developing for hundreds of years.

The fern frond is the symbolic metaphysical principle, which shows our relationship to the whole. It is this totality that which is subversive in geometry, a reminder of our connectivity to nature, to each other and the whole, and is the foundation of all things in the Universe.

FIBONACCI

Koru has an innate relationship to one common mathematical belief. Introduced from the East to the Europeans in the thirteenth century and is recounted in the Fibonacci and Phi or what the Greeks called the Golden Mean ratio. The ratio being (1: 1.618). This is the basis for perfect geometry by dividing any of the Fibonacci numbers by the next previous number.

This ratio is the so-called Fibonacci series where each number is the sum of the preceding number: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89,144, 233, 377 and so on. The ratio of two successive numbers equals the Golden Mean. This creates a never-ending spiral from its core or its original point. From this point are a myriad of variations but the higher the sequence the closer are the two numbers to the Golden Mean.

Putting the mathematical equations aside, how does the basis of Fibonacci visually link to the Koru again? If you were to connect the bottom right corner of a golden rectangle and link up to each successive number sequence from each bottom corner you would create a Fibonacci Spiral. The Spiral and Koru are one and the same.

Leonardo Pisano or nicknamed Fibonacci lived from 1170 to 1240 AD and introduced these ancient principals to the West. He was considered 'the most talented mathematician in the middle ages'. In modern times Fibonacci has been used in film, art, literature, stock markets, music, knitting, mitosis, basket weaving and of course, nature. The list goes on and on.

FIBORU

Fiboru (pronounced fe-bow-roo) are Koru and kowhaiwhai patterns, which are based on the link between Fibonacci and Koru - Fiboru.

Designed using Adobe Illustrator 6, you will find little resemblance to traditional Kowhaiwhai patterns and instead you will see an often repetitive kaleidoscope simulation. I've taken the traditional patterns of kowhaiwhai and removed a variety of shapes and patterned new shapes to create a myriad of images weaving positive and negative spaces.

I don't believe for an instant that I have miraculously discovered a new link to the beginning of time or a divine principle in which to gage divine art and linked this to Koru, instead I have embraced a conceptual artistic geometric construct that will help me seek a divine method to my illustrations.

Ultimately, my goal is to continue to experiment and strive for shapes and patterns that hopefully illicit in the viewer a reaction, an emotion, a memory, and especially to think about and discuss the relevance and importance of a legacy, which our Tupuna have created and nurtured which continues to inspire those in the 21st Century.

Our Tupuna have always known this ancient link. Instinctively the Artist have always known this Golden Mean.

Ka mau te wehi.

Mitchell Manuel.

The work of Mitch Manuel can be found on a number of sites online including Toi Maori Aotearoa/Maori Arts New Zealand, Coroflot and Krop - Creative Database. Please be aware that the illustrations shown in this article, plus all those to be found on the links above are the creative property of Mitch Manuel and that they are therefore fully copyrighted.

Another ebook has been launched today and I should imagine this one may well be suitable and helpful to many out there. The book is entirely devoted to the pattern work of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, one of the main driving forces behind the Victorian Gothic Revival and to some, the godfather of the English Arts and Crafts movement.

The book has a short introduction and a list of illustrations; the rest being dedicated to full colour 100 images unique pieces of design work, each pattern has a separate page to itself, so there is no cluttering of multiple patterns on one page.

Much of the design pattern work that Pugin published in his lifetime was textile-based. Therefore, this book contains a large amount of pattern work that was originally intended for embroidery, although it does also contain work that would have equally been at home on printed and woven textiles, as well as wallpapers.

Pugin was a wonderful colourist with an avid and perceptive eye for a graphic quality that means that his work can be just as relevant today as it was over a century and a half ago.

Whether you use this ebook for inspiration, guidance, reference, or just pure enjoyment, I hope that it proves a useful tool. This is now the second book of its type on The Textile Blog, a title dedicated to William Morris was released a short while ago.

As always, the book will be available from the ebook page, which can be found by pressing the Ebook tab at the top of the page. It can also be found by pressing the book cover photo on the right hand side of this site. The nine other book titles, including six written books and two reference guides, can also be bought on the ebook page.

A large majority of the countless generations of decorative work that has been produced across the planet by numerous cultures, has been nature-based, and no more so than through flower and leaf. This can readily be seen of course in a number of ways, from the original appreciation and integration of nature into design work through the study of local flora by the designer, through to the incorporation of more complex ideas, such as the interconnectivity of nature, its biodiversity, its rhythms and its cycles. From there it is a short journey to the contemporary world of sustainability and localised sourcing, the holistic management of the human footprint no less.

However, as to the human dependence on flower and leaf, it runs across most decorative disciplines from textiles to paper, glass, wood, stone and metal and across all generations from the early decorative formats of hunter gatherers, to the complexity and sophistication of hand production, the industrial mass production of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, to our own innovations and beyond.

Illustration: Hans Eduard von Berlepsch-Valendas. Botanical illustration, 1897.

A good example of initial observational work can be seen in the examples shown in this article. They are the work of the Swiss architect and designer Hans Karl Eduard von Berlepsch-Valendas to give him his full name. They give a good indication as to what Berlepsch-Valendas was looking for in his initial observations of plant forms. It is immediately noticeable that structure seems to take a particularly important role in his immediate observations. The three-dimensional quality of the plant, how it placed itself in its immediate environment and how it managed the space around itself, seemed of particular interest and these points seem, if anything, over emphasised. However, if we take into account that Berlepsch-Valendas was first and foremost an architect and product designer before he was a decorative artist, then it makes obvious sense.

This means that in many ways nature is not a one point observational tool, all is in the eye of the beholder. Nothing can be counted on as standard as everyone has a unique perspective as to colour, tone, line and texture and that is without taking into consideration background training and specific interests. Could it be that the human interpretation of nature is as complex and multi-layered as nature itself?

Illustration: Hans Eduard von Berlepsch-Valendas. Botanical illustration, 1897.

It is hard sometimes to acknowledge our role in the complexity of nature. Many of us live lives whereby the natural world, at least in its form as plant life, is kept at bay. We may perhaps see some stunted trees in a plaza or flowers for sale in a supermarket and think nothing more than the fact that these are images of nature contained, controlled. Nothing could of course be further from the truth, but that is a slightly different issue and best saved for another day. However, the sheer weight of evidence to show that nature is one of the most important aspects within observational inspirations, at least in the role it plays in decoration, cannot be denied. Our emotional affinity with flower and leaf is an important part of who we are, it also shows us that, despite our efforts to the contrary, we are still part of the whole, part of the rich diversity of life that is the natural world. By expressing ourselves through our imitation of nature, and through that our creative individuality, we are constantly, through artists, designers and craftspeople, re-enacting the connections with the natural world and our position deep within its multi-layers. This constant realisation of human as nature is part of the expression to be found in textile work in particular, whether it be through printed, woven, tapestry, embroidery, quilting, knit, lace, macramé, and so on.

Illustration: Hans Eduard von Berlepsch-Valendas. Botanical illustration, 1897.

So, the next time you see flower or leaf expressed within a textile format, or indeed outside of that in paper, glass, wood, stone, or metal, see it as an affirmation of belonging, a form of connection with nature that is as old as our decorative history and probably as old as the human species itself.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Italian decorative lettering, 14th century.

Medieval decorative lettering has always been a big inspirational draw for generations of designers and decorators. The colour and line produced in these often small-scale pieces of European medieval work are perfectly suited, by their natural tendency towards flat, graphic styling, to become inspirational tools, or at least starting points for many of the textile arts including, printed, tapestry and embroidery.

William Morris was a fan throughout his career and owned a number of volumes that had been procured from various sources, many from France. That he found them inspirational for their connection with the near legendary portrayal of the medieval world, as envisioned by the Victorian creative would seem obvious. However, Morris was also drawn to their often lively portrayal of flora and fauna, the connection between the swirling and undulating floral reliefs from these medieval sources can readily be found in his textile work, whether printed, woven, or embroidered.

Illustration: Italian decorative lettering, 14th century.

The medieval world was often considered by Morris and his contemporaries as being so much closer to the natural world of everyday flora and fauna, much more so it was felt, than their nineteenth century industrial ancestors. To our own contemporary world, which appears if anything, remote enough from the natural connections of the Victorian world, let alone the medieval, these medieval decorative illustrations may at times seem as if they are speaking to us from a very long narrow tube, with the medieval individual being a small distant speck of light, indistinct, but still tantalising.

To a large extent our viewpoint of the medieval world is very much coloured by the Victorian interpretation. Medieval European culture was viewed by the average Victorian through a prism that reimagined the culture as one of order as interpreted by the complex rules of chivalry, beautifully wan, but largely placid women, heroic and therefore proactive men, and beautifully clad interiors full of the best and brightest in medieval creative work.

Illustration: Italian decorative lettering, 14th century.

The viewpoint of past generations by the present, always says much more about the cultural and social standards of the present than it does anything about the past, very much a mirror onto the present. The Victorian medieval worldview of active men, silent women and a placid and a rigidly structured society, perhaps tells us about Victorian ideas of what they saw as being the norm, or perhaps more importantly, what they hoped should be the norm.

Our own interpretation of the medieval world seems very much coloured by an excessive, almost visceral love of violence and one which often portrays life as being anarchic, brutal, short and little else. That this contemporary reimagining of the medieval world should also be seen as a mirror of ourselves, is disturbing and will only probably be truly objectified by future generations.

As to the medieval world itself, in many respects it could be violent, brutal and short. It could be seen as uneven, unrepresentative of the majority, and rigidly suffocating. However, it was also a world of singing and dancing, of bawdy jokes and sex in all its forms, in fact a zest for life that reflected the very blunt shortness that life could take, through regular bouts of war, famine and disease.

Illustration: Italian decorative lettering, 14th century.

Much of medieval life was by no means urban, towns were rare, small and often harbingers of disease and social unrest. Most of the population lived rurally and therefore there was always a close connection with the natural world that would have been both around each community, but more importantly, entwined within it, with each community depending on its connections with nature for its survival.

Seasons would have been vital as they would be for any agricultural-based community, and in that respect it was important to always be aware and conscious of the budding, flowering and dying away of the natural flora. These were signs and signals as to how the year was progressing, but also as to the potential value of the year, whether one of abundance or famine. Because life was often lived on a thin line between the two, the expression through decoration of the abundance of nature could perhaps be seen as one of wishful thinking on the one hand, or perhaps even pro-active superstition on the other.

Illustration: Italian decorative lettering, 14th century.

Whatever the trials and tribulations of Medieval life and its interpretation and reinterpretation over the intervening generations, it can be said that the decorative imagery handed down to us by our medieval ancestors, is one that passes on a genuine feeling of joy and zest for life in all its many forms. Decoration should be strident, vibrant, picking out the best of the world around us, allowing us to enjoy the complexity of colour, line and form that is such an enjoyable part of the natural world environment. It something our medieval ancestors clearly enjoyed and revelled in, can the same be said of us?

Further reading links:

Illustration: Herta Koch. Troubadour embroidery design, 1913.

Herta Koch produced a range of textile work, much of it during the early years of the twentieth century. Her embroidery work was particularly innovative and vibrant with a preponderance of stylised flora and fauna. In many respects, her work can be likened to English Jacobean embroidery as well as the floral inspired traditional embroidery work of Central and Eastern Europe. This perhaps gives us some indication as to the breadth of inspiration that one creative individual can engender.

Koch tended to deal in overly large flora and fauna, which obviously gave the impression of vibrancy, colour and luxuriance. In the first illustration 'Troubadour' the two human figures are completely surrounded by oversized vegetation and bird life. Although the largest figures they do not seem to overly dominate the composition and it cannot perhaps be a coincidence that they have a more than tenuous link with the Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden story.

Illustration: Herta Koch. Embroidery design, 1912.

Koch's work is consistent in its use of nature as a main ingredient to her compositions and in the use of overly large and somewhat stylised motif work. The same can be seen in much of her printed textile work, an article at a later date will be posted on this subject. By drawing inspiration from a number of origins, Koch was able to meld them together in order to arrive at a point where she was producing individualised creative work that no longer felt as if directly representative of that origin, which is the path that all creative people follow.

It is always interesting to see a creative individual take observational starting points, and then to see those points become folded in on themselves, repositioned, even reimagined and then projected back on to their own contemporary audience as new and vibrant pieces of work. Creativity has so many of these lines of inspiration, no more so than in embroidery. Generation after generation produce new reference points of inspiration, many of which have been influenced by the work of previous generations. This ongoing procedure has an accumulative affect, whereby, as the generations pass by, compositional pieces can be seen more as a complexity of past ideas and technical skills, all overlapping, and indeed underlapping each other.

Illustration: Herta Koch. Embroidery design, 1913.

It is rare, and you would have to conjecture, near impossible, for a creative individual not to be influenced on some level by those who went before them. It is in the nature of creativity to be generational, with each new generation adding something extra to the vocabulary of either singular or multi-disciplinary work. In some respects, without trying to sound too trite, the building up of the discipline of embroidery for example, is done by each individual at each generational level, producing one representative additional stitch at a time.

Work such as Koch's, which are lucky enough to be tagged with her name, as well as all of the countless unnamed embroideries produced over seemingly endless generations, which she would have used on an inspirational level, increase the availability of new inspirational points for our own generation. As we perhaps use her work as an available inspirational point, our own work will one day perhaps inspire future generations in which to use as available starting points for their own new and original work, and so it goes on.

Illustration: Herta Koch. Embroidery design, 1913.

This is always, for me, the beauty of creative work. It can by all means stand on its own as a unique focused point of one person's individuality and their unique perspective on the world they inhabit. However, it can also be one point in a continuing journey of a discipline, and their work can be a flavour and reflection of all those individuals who went before them and perhaps a foretaste of all those that will follow. As a creative individual, you are the accumulation of an endless parade of trial and error, experimentation and perseverance, acute observation and sometimes sheer luck, that you can pass that accumulated history on to the next generation is perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Further reading links:

Illustration: A. C. Pugin. Crockets from Bishop Wayneflete's monument, Winchester Cathedral.

Many plants, whether flowers or trees, have had a symbolic meaning across a number of cultures past and present. The tulip can be closely associated with Iran and Turkey, the chrysanthemum with Japan, the cedar with Lebanon, the shamrock with Ireland, the Laurel with the ancient classical world, to name just a few.

As far as England is concerned, whilst the rose is perhaps its most obvious political symbol, as in the white and red roses of the royal houses of York and Lancaster, or the subsequently pragmatic combination of the two roses under the Tudors, it is perhaps the oak tree that has had a deeper and more spiritual and cultural connection with the English. It is one that has had a deep relationship rising from the bottom of society, the masses, rather than one like the rose, which was largely imposed from the top down.

The oak is particularly symbolic to the English. In the popular imagination, it filled the forests of Robin Hood and Ivanhoe; a large oak seemed to dominate every village green, and it crops up consistently at symbolic events and episodes in English history, such as the saving of the young Charles Stuart (future Charles II) from capture by parliamentary forces.

Illustration: Living oak leaves photographed by the writer.

The oak is often seen as an example of robustness and continuity, much of the oak used in English construction and interiors for example, is still in place centuries after it was first installed. Even more so, the oak can be imbued with an element of class-consciousness, by its use or non-use by different elements of English society.

As England's mercantile empire expanded, it came into contact with a range of exotic goods that began to stream into the country, no more so than exotic woods such as mahogany. This dark wood originally imported from the West Indies, was expensive, and therefore became the wood of choice for those who could afford it. The wealthy began to differentiate themselves through their use of exotic woods such as mahogany, particularly in furniture, specifically stressing the exclusivity as compared to the more common and domestic oak.

It is no coincidence that in the nineteenth century the English Arts and Crafts movement turned their creative back on the exotic woods of the wealthy in favour of the English traditions so closely identified with the poorer and less cosmopolitan sections of the community. They favoured the use of traditional oak and the symbolic social and cultural connections that that inevitably brought with it.

Illustration: A. C. Pugin. Stone brackets or corbels, York Minster.

As far as many in the English Arts and Crafts movement were concerned, and it has to be remembered that the movement had a healthy slice of political reformers within its ranks ranging from benign paternalism to aggressive socialism, a statement was being specifically and publicly made. There was a concerted attempt to reconnect with the central role that the oak seemed to play in the medieval world, at least in the mind of the creative Victorian. It's role in the English Arts and Crafts movement was, if not an overtly political one, at least one that tried to address the imbalance between classes socially.

The use of foreign hard woods as opposed to domestic oak, and vice versa, became a focus in the disparity of the social and political divide, a means of demarking class boundaries. Class is a divisive phenomenon that has dogged the English for countless generations and continues to inflict its dysfunctional damage to this day, despite all outward appearances of contemporary egalitarianism for the benefit of the modern international audience. Class has fuelled the exaggeration of differences in so many fields of political, social, cultural and religious life of the English, from simple word pronunciation, political and religious affiliation, to the simple task of picking up the right or wrong knife and fork at dinner. Therefore, the use of mahogany or oak, for example, has deep connotations as to class and therefore social standing and power.

Illustration: A. C. Pugin. Stone ornaments, Fox's monument, Winchester Cathedral.

The medieval world was to some extent simplified, at least in the respect of mahogany versus oak. As mahogany was still an unknown material to the medieval English, oak was seen as both a standard worked material as well as being part of the fabric of the culture. Therefore, there are so many instances of the oak leaf, acorn and tree being represented in medieval decoration, that it is often difficult to find instances where it is missing. It was produced in wood, stone and metal, it was represented within the mediums of printed and woven textiles, tapestry and embroidery, as well as being painted on top of plaster and wood in churches as well as domestic settings. What is particularly interesting is the fact that the oak is represented right across the English decorative landscape from palace and cathedral, through to merchant house, and even the smallest of parish churches. Its universality is one of the points that has made it such an enduring element in English culture, particularly amongst the bulk of the population, those beneath the aristocracy.

Many of the medieval carved representations of oak leaves and acorns can still be found across England, particularly in parish churches. Although Victorians were keen to both augment the original medieval decorative work of churches, or even to introduce medieval styling where none had been available before, it is usually easy enough to spot the differences. There is an earthy connected quality to the medieval that tends to be missing from the Victorian. In other words, the medieval craftsman produced work that often reflected the ordinary and the everyday, the world that surrounded and intertwined the medieval English mind and body. The Victorian versions on the other hand, were more intellectually based creative projects. No matter how earnestly produced, they could only ever reflect an approximation of another period in time, one in which they had no real direct connection.

Illustration: A. C. Pugin. Stone stringcourse.

A century and more later, the English still have their emotional connection with the oak. It means something special to many, but few know really what that connection is. The medieval period is a distant memory, one that has been distorted by the dismissal of the renaissance, the sneering of the aristocracy, the sentimentalising of the Victorian and the fantasy-driven inaccuracies of the media through film, television and novel.

However, oaks still stand, despite the onward march of the shopping mall, factory, office and general housing, which eat up more and more of the rural landscape every year, despite assurances from politicians that all is safe with them. Perhaps more importantly, the oak is still represented in both parish church and cathedral. The representations, as shown here in the four examples drawn by Auguste Charles Pugin, A. W. N. Pugin's father, are still in place and will be in place long after we are gone. In fact they may well still be in place long after the shopping mall, factory, office and housing have crumbled away, or been swept away as redundant. Whether there will be any more oaks left at that stage, is another matter entirely. It would be a crime indeed to think that the only representation left of the English oak is from its medieval representatives.

Further reading links:

Time this week for another book review. This time around, it is the turn of Giorgio Riello's book Cotton: The Fabric that Made the Modern World. This book may at first appear to be a dry academic tome dealing with the economic history of cotton; it is after all published by Cambridge University Press. However, this should not really put you off, as the book is much more than a few hundred pages of statistics.

Riello, who has also published such diverse, but textile themed books as The Spinning World; How India Clothed the World; The Fashion History User; Global Design History and Shoes: A History from Sandals to Sneakers seems to understand that textiles cannot be understood as separate from the interaction of human desires and needs, whether through practicality or manipulated consumption. This new book does not deal specifically with cotton as a trading material, but cotton as a fashion staple, its perfection in India as a piece of creative work, as well as its mass industrialisation in Europe.

This is a book that does not particularly glorify or denigrate the story of cotton, but tells the story of its development as an increasingly powerful commodity across the last millennium. It is both a story that is grand, covering great sweeping changes in global history from the eighteenth century onwards in particular. It is, after all probably the one commodity that is so clearly defined as being responsible for, or at least perceived to be, the engine that powered the industrial revolution. However, Riello's book also recognises that the history of cotton is also one that is intimate, the story between an individual and their admiration of pattern, weave and colour.

It is the relationship between ourselves and cotton that really gives us the highs and lows of cotton. The humble cotton plant has a deep and significant role in the often-tortured history of humanity, but it is also one that can at the same time be both creative and painful. It includes the highs of complex artistic creativity in India where cotton weaving and printing reached such levels of sophistication and technical proficiency that they were never really to be improved upon, to the depths of cruelty and exploitation by Europeans through the degradation of one individual by another, through literal slavery in the Americas, to near slavery in European mills and factories. Today's degradation of the environment, through the mass exploitation of cotton growing and the pollution caused by mass-dyeing techniques are just the newest of problems in an industry littered with such.

Riello deals with global perspectives; he is after all a global historian. In that respect, it is fascinating to see the battle waged during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries between the seemingly unassailable position of India as the powerhouse of cotton cloth production, and that of Europe as mass importer, to one where the roles were completely reversed, with Europe becoming a powerhouse of cotton production and India becoming a mass importer. The roles of exporter and importer might well have been reversed, but unfortunately, for the world and cotton production in general, European creativity in cotton production was largely missing. Mass production in Europe meant exactly that, and in the respect of Britain, which held India as a captive market within the British Empire, inferior cotton goods were unloaded enmasse to India regardless of their history of fine creativity.

However, in one of those rare cases of seeming rebalance, India now dominates the world cotton market again, whilst the European cotton industry has faded away. Riello's book deals with all these aspects of cotton and does not shy away from the difficult questions of exploitation of trade, native populations and consumers. For anyone wanting to know more about the history of one of the fundamental pillars of the textile industry Cotton: The Fabric that Made the Modern World surely must be on their list of reference books.

There is an interesting interview with the author Giorgio Riello where he talks about his new book Cotton. It can be found by following the link to the Un-Making Things website.

Giorgio Riello's book can be found on Amazon by clicking on the link in the Further reading links section below.

Further reading links:

Illustration: A W N Pugin. Embroidered conventional forms of animals, 1844.

Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin the architect, designer and initial drive behind the Victorian Gothic Revival, was one of the greatest and most natural of decorative designers that England has ever produced. His work was prodigious, leaving a large and varied quantity of pattern work for someone who died at the early age of forty. His work was both medieval in inspiration, as well as being inspirational in its own right. He had a dynamic and bold sense of colour and line and wasn't afraid to outline pattern work when he felt it needed it. He used gold as an outliner with a degree of confidence that can be seen as bold to some, although excessive to others. However, it was always with a sense of self-trust, an inbuilt understanding of his own self-assurance, which allowed Pugin to produce work that made the statement in pattern work to his own satisfaction.

Pugin produced decorative detailed work for a range of disciplines including textiles, wallpaper, ceramics, metal, wood and stone. Interestingly, because the work he produced was of such a graphically strong nature much of the initial output for specific disciplines was subsequently ignored by those who used his work as both an inspiration and as a template. Embroiderers particularly found his decorative work sympathetic to their needs and for much of the rest of the nineteenth century Pugin's pattern work was used over and over again by embroiderers across England, for both ecclesiastical as well as domestic embroidery work.

Illustration: A W N Pugin. Embroidered cross for a frontal or vestment, 1844.

As can be seen form these few examples, which incidentally were originally intended by Pugin for embroidery work, the style of the designer lent itself perfectly to the craft of embroidery. Pugin himself was a great admirer of heraldry and often would find excuses in order to incorporate elements within his work, even to the extent of using his own coat of arms on domestic wallpaper in his home in Ramsgate, a home he designed himself from building framework to all the details of the interior. I think that it is important to remember that although a designer might well be influenced consciously by their ideas and ideals, they are also influenced and sometimes to a greater extent, by the subconscious, the seemingly fleeting, or childhood obsession. That Pugin might well have had a boyhood romance with chivalry and heraldry can be seen as being just as significant as the conscious efforts he used to promote ideas of a new medieval world. That heraldry, with its defined colour fields and bold graphic characteristics, seems such an obvious part of Pugin's decorative experience and output, perhaps says much about our own hidden enthusiasms, whether through childhood, or adult perspectives.

Illustration: A W N Pugin. Embroidered precious mitres, 1844.

Although Pugin was a firm believer that the medieval world had something fundamental to teach his own modern contemporary world of the nineteenth century, specifically the right way to live, he also believed that medieval decoration was a tool that could be used within a contemporary setting as well. Style should not necessarily be consigned to the oblivion of history, trapped within an historical era. Past eras had something to teach future generations, they also had something to pass on to those future generations, inspiration. Inspiration in its own right does not mean the wholesale copying of the past. After all, the Victorian Gothic Revival of which Pugin was one of the main instigators was not a copy of medieval England, not even a copy of medieval northern Europe. If you were to place the two styles side by side, the contrast would be stark, as designers such as Pugin were interested in inspirational development, building on the best of the past, but not necessarily with an interest in the wholesale reintroduction of the past as a decorative style.

Illustration: A W N Pugin. Embroidered cross for a frontal or vestment, 1844.

At any rate, for decades after the early death of Pugin in 1852, his work was still being used for a range of embroidery uses. Although many people today will be unfamiliar with his name, thankfully times are changing. Although Pugin himself has been dead for over a century and a half, that shouldn't really mean anything significant. There is no reason, for example, why Pugin's decorative work should not and could not be used as both inspiration and template for our own contemporary world. Pugin's work is bold, graphic and forthright. It celebrates colour, line and above all the human capacity and love of decoration and pattern, values that many hold as close to their heart today as they did in the middle of the nineteenth century and beyond.

Illustration: A W N Pugin. Embroidered conventional forms of animals, 1844.

For anyone interested in the decorative pattern work of A W N Pugin, there are two ebooks available on the ebook page, which are shown below, as well as a range of further articles about this remarkable decorative designer which can be found under the heading Pugin, on the Design Index page.

This title takes a look at A W N Pugin the pattern designer, rather than as is usual, the architect. Pugin was a consummate decorative artist with an intrinsic understanding of both colour and line. The book concentrates on two of Pugin's most popular and decoratively stunning titles, The Glossary of Ecclesiastical Ornament and Costume published in 1844, and Floriated Ornament which was published in 1849. Both titles give strong evidence as to the skill that Pugin directed towards his own personal textile, ceramic and wallpaper output, but also gives an indication as to how popular and influential his decorative work proved to be on the decorative arts during and after his lifetime.

The Pattern Work of A W N Pugin is an inspiration sourcebook, which is entirely devoted to image work. Therefore the book contains 100 images of unique Pugin designs, many of which were originally intended for embroidery. All are full colour, and while the book has a short introduction and index of the illustrations, the rest is left to the work of Pugin himself, which is as it should be.

Further reading links:

Illustration: The New York Crystal Palace, 1853.

In 1853 a mere two years after the Great Exhibition had been held in London, New York held its own international exhibition entitled Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations. The actual building that was to hold the international venue was known as New York's Crystal Palace and was directly inspired by the London Crystal Palace that had been erected in Hyde Park in 1851.

The New York Crystal Palace Exhibition as it was commonly known, had over four thousand exhibitors, and covered very similar ground to the London exhibition. There was a selection of products that were a strange mixture of the endeavours of contemporary technology, fine art work, as well as curiosities including mineral deposits, a fully functioning locomotive and a captured crocodile.

Illustration: The New York Crystal Palace, interior view, 1853.

Textiles were of course well represented at the New York exhibition as it had been at the earlier London. It has to be remembered that textiles were seen in the nineteenth century as one of the leading technological innovators of the time. There was a constant fascination at trade fairs, both at the national and international level, with the development of mass production technology within the textile industry, that this was often competitively driven either by singular companies or on a national scale, was part of the underlying competitiveness between individual nation states within Europe and North America. That most wanted to catch up and to ideally overtake Britain, which had made itself rich from the export of cheap mass produced printed cottons, was the main goal for many in the mid-nineteenth century.

Illustration: Templeton and Co carpet design, 1853.

The major European powers were well represented at the New York exhibition, whether they were representing the best in mass production, or indeed hand production. Many saw the potential of the huge North American market for European goods, whilst North American companies saw the equally enticing European market for American goods. Most of the exhibitions held in Europe and North America in latter half of the nineteenth century should not really be seen as anything more than glorified trade fairs. Although the public tended to enjoy themselves at the various events and tourism was an element of these exhibitions, New York itself gained the revenue from over a million visitors while the exhibition was open, it was really advance orders, or at least interest in specific company portfolios that were of paramount importance.

Many of the companies that were represented at the London Great Exhibition of 1851 were also represented at the 1853 New York Exhibition, as they were in the following Paris Exhibition of 1855. The illustrations shown in this article give some impression of those represented, including carpet work from the Scottish Templeton company, the English textile company of Craven and Harrop, as well as the English ceramic tile producers Minton and Co.

Illustration: Craven and Harrop textile designs, 1853.

Although the London Exhibition made a reasonable profit, which fuelled a number of future educational projects at South Kensington ranging from the Royal Albert Hall to the Victorian and Albert Museum, the New York Exhibition made a loss. It does go to show that many of these Exhibition projects, particularly the international ones, travelled a thin line between optimistic financial profit and pessimistic loss. However, the figures would not have included any money accrued through potential sales orders from the American domestic companies involved in the exhibition.

Strangely, the New York Crystal Palace shared the same fate as London's Crystal Palace, as the entire building burnt to the ground in 1858, seventy-eight years later in 1936, the London Crystal Palace also burnt to the ground. Whether there was foul play in both events is unknown, but perhaps as both buildings were only ever meant to have been temporary structures it was asking too much to expect them to last the test of time, a purpose for which they had never been originally intended.

Illustration: Minton and Co ceramic tile design, 1853.

However, whether exhibitions made a profit or loss, whether they filled their intended purpose or not, they often fired the public imagination, were great fun for those who managed to get to see them, and perhaps more importantly, they are a slice of design and decorative history. These events give us a frozen snapshot of the tastes styles and developments in design and decorative history during set periods of time. Most, if not all of the events would have come with a range of brochures and catalogues, often featuring the same companies. Being able to follow these companies over the decades of the latter half of the nineteenth century, whether they were displaying their products in New York, London, Paris or Vienna, is a fascinating journey and one that shows the influences and inspiration that could be gained from international communication.

It has to be remembered that these international trade shows could also be seen as having a creative stimulus, a bringing together of diverse cultural contacts, whether it be Europe and North America, India and Turkey, or China and Japan. Creativity is often stimulated through social and artistic interaction rather than isolation. Human development thrives on new ideas and stimulants from outside. The foreigner is not a concept to be feared, but one to be embraced. The multi-layered and multi-cultural aspect of humanity is its strength, not as some would assume, its weakness.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Taj Mahal Gateway, India. Photo by Axel Boldt.

Floral pattern work was always an important part of Mughal decoration, whether it be architectural, or painted on a manuscript, or printed on a textile. Some would say that it was actually pre-eminent and it would be hard not to justify that as floral work can be seen on practically every available space in Mughal culture.

Of course, when talking about Mughal India, it is important to remember that we are in fact talking about modern day Pakistan, India and Bangladesh, and not just the modern state of India. It is worth bearing in mind that although many of the well-known Mughal landmarks, such as the Taj Mahal, are in the modern state of India, other gems such as Lahore, one of the main cultural centres of the Mughal Empire, is in Pakistan, whilst the modern state of Bangladesh was at one time the larger part of the wealthy Mughal province of Bengal. Therefore, it should be accepted that examples of Mughal architecture, decoration and pattern work are just as prevalant in Pakistan and Bangladesh as they are in India.

Illustration: Decorative Floral detail, Taj Mahal, India. Photo by David Castor.

Floral pattern work in India under the Mughals, in some respects brought together the love of the natural world at the core of two world cultures, namely that of Islamic Iran and Central Asia from which Mughal rule was derived, and that of Hindu India, which was the native culture of South Asia. Both differing cultural viewpoints had always seen nature as being in the forefront of decoration and pattern work, and therefore it is inevitable that floral decoration should be seen as such a large part of the decorative culture of India.

Although nature was observed and seen as supremely inspirational, this did not necessarily mean that nature had to be analytically copied. Interpretation is the keystone of creativity and much of the floral work produced in India, whether it be in textile, wood, stone, ceramic, metal, or paper, was ultimately interpretive and paid as much attention to the balance and harmony of the composition as it did to the materials used.

Illustration: Taj Mahal mosque, India. Photo by David Castor.

This means that the designers of decorative floral work would have had to take into consideration whether the medium was textile, wood, stone, metal, ceramic, or paper, as each material would through necessity, reflect decoration in a completely different way from each other. Therefore, one universal decorative format could never realistically be sought as a blanket solution for all mediums. This is something that preoccupied a number of critics and practical technicians in Britain during the mid-nineteenth century when it was found that mass production, by its very nature, was a system that tried to save time and money through limiting the processes of labour. In other words if a product took five different processes to complete rather than ten, time and money could be saved and profits increased. Necessary processes that were being left out of mass production were very often the same consideration as to medium that was seen as so important to the decorative art in India, hence the intense interest by the British in the Indian decorative process.

Illustration: Decorative floral detail, Taj Mahal, India. Photo by Axel Boldt.

That designers, decorators and crafts people in India seemed to have intrinsically understood the importance of balance and harmony within pattern, especially when dealing with source material such as floral work, seems obvious. As Richard Glazier in his 'A Manual of Historic Ornament' published in 1899 was to say:

'The Inventiveness and significance of detail, the charm of composition of line and mass, and the beautiful colours ... are a reflex of the decorative feeling for beauty by the people of India.'

A harmonic combination of naturalism and the unnatural, the authentic and the affected, always a difficult balance to achieve in any field, but particularly so in floral decoration, seemed, at least from the perspective of Europe, to be effortless on the part of Indian designers, decorators and crafts people. However, perhaps this perspective had more to say about the European colonial illusion, one that often interpreted the cultural sophistication of non-Europeans as somehow something that came naturally, rather than learnt through the complexity of their own generational culture.

Illustration: Taj Mahal Gateway, India. Photo by David Castor.

In many respects, the height at which the Indian decorative arts were seen by many Europeans, took countless generations to achieve both from the Islamic Mughal as well as the Hindu Indian perspective. The architectural and decorative arts of India itself are under laid by millennia of complex theories concerning geometry, mathematics, physics and philosophy. Ancient India should in fact be seen with the same perspective and reverence that many Europeans give to that of Ancient Greece.

At any rate, irrespective of the sometimes myopic cultural viewpoint from Europe, as far as the floral decorative work of Mughal India is concerned, it is rightly seen as one of the true apexes of Indian decorative arts, and by that analogy it should therefore be seen as one of the true apexes of human creativity.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Adolf Bohm. Illustration from Ver Sacrum, 1902.

The Austrian artist and designer Adolf Bohm is probably better known today for his illustrative work, particularly as it was featured a number of times in the Ver Sacrum magazine, the official mouthpiece of the Vienna Secession. Although only published for a few short years between 1898 and 1903, it had an influence way beyond its publication dates, but also beyond its seemingly limited circulation numbers. Ver Sacrum had a Europe-wide influence and drew artists, designers and writers from across the continent. Many young creative individuals were drawn by its contemporary feel and its seeming disassociation with the establishment. To some extent, the illustrative work of Adolf Bohm must have reinforced the contemporary feel to the magazine.

Although Bohm is celebrated for his illustrative endeavours, he also produced work in a number of other disciplines including furniture, ceramics, embroidery and fine art. It is perhaps his embroidery contribution to which we should really be drawn, as it is both a good example of the working style of Bohm, but also a good example of how an artist with a particular and individual style can accommodate disciplines to reflect their individuality as a creative artist/designer.

Illustration: Adolf Bohm. Embroidery design, 1898.

Bohm was probably not an embroiderer himself, few men were during this period, though to be fair, there are probably just as few today in our own contemporary world, some things have a habit of rarely changing. However, Bohm's piece produced for embroidery, as shown in the second illustration for this article, seems to have an understanding for what was acceptable and also what was technically and practically possible for the needle discipline. There was nothing particularly complicated about the piece he produced, but also there was nothing too simplistic about the composition either.

It is probably just as well to mention here that it is sometimes a mistake to consider that a designer who does not complete a given piece from beginning to end, is not really an accomplished and creative individual. Today's designer/maker did not really exist in any significant numbers until fairly recently, and to be honest, their numbers and influence is still relatively small compared to those designers employed in the mainstream textile industry for example. This does not of course mean that I would denigrate the position of designer/maker, it holds a valid and valuable position, particularly so in this present century when we are acutely concerned with a range of issues that revolve around the tag of sustainability. The position of the designer/maker is going to become more and more crucial as the twenty first century develops. There is even movement in the mainstream design world to incorporate at least elements of the philosophy of the designer/maker, which can only ever be seen as an improvement. However, it is also fair to say that the designer that is not a maker, also holds a valuable and valid position and it is unwise to denigrate their contribution to creativity either, such is the case with Adolf Bohm.

Illustration: Adolf Bohm. 'Nelken' illustration, 1899.

It is probably clear to see from the four illustrations shown here, that Bohm had a penchant for the natural world. He was in fact employed from 1910 as a teacher of 'akt und naturstudien' (nude and nature studies) at the Vienna School of Applied Arts, so in some ways part of his official capacity was in the teaching of the observation of nature, whether human or environmental. At any rate, although not all of his decorative work, whether illustrative, fine art, or textiles, was necessarily entirely nature-based, it was a recurring and some would say defining theme of his work.

Although the examples shown here do show a somewhat stylised approach to the natural world, one that was part and parcel of the Art Nouveau/Jugendstil fashionable approach in Europe at the time, it also shows an elegance and innate understanding of the form and function of the natural world. Nature, in Bohm's creative work, is poised, but never really still. There is the natural fluidity as part of the sinuousness of Art Nouveau/Jugendstil, but it seems more a part of the natural restlessness of nature, one that is continually growing through the cycles of the year. A constant heartbeat of death and rebirth that is the vital essence of the natural world. it is this vitality, even zest for life, that seems to come across in Bohm's work, whether it is for illustrative work for Ver Sacrum, or a potential piece of undefined embroidery.

Illustration: Adolf Bohm. Ver Sacrum calendar for October, 1901.

Bohm is one of those creative artist/designers that is well worth noting for his interesting approach to the natural world, and is therefore also invaluable as an inspirational point in which to further explore his approach to portraying nature. However, perhaps more importantly, he should be seen as an individual that gave nature more than just an interesting compositional perspective or decorative format. In many respects, he gave nature an animation, a reality that is there for us all to see, but one we rarely recognise. The natural world is never static, it one that is constantly moving to its own rhythms and ideals. The reality of nature is probably much closer to that portrayed by Bohm, than we are often aware of or can imagine.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Owen Jones. Passion Flowers. All full-sized and traced from nature, 1856.

Owen Jones in his 1856 publication The Grammar of Ornament spent the entire book reproducing decorative formats from around the world. There was decoration and pattern work from as far afield as New Zealand to India, Italy to Burma. It was also not just geographical locations that were covered in the book, historical eras were its real centre, so therefore from ancient Egypt, Assyria and Persia, to classical Greece and Rome, through to the medieval Christian and Islamic worlds, and on to the European Renaissance, all were given space and explanation by Jones.

At the very end of the book, Jones left a chapter for the contemporary world of mid-nineteenth century Britain, and in this respect, he made sure that the chapter was devoted to the leaves and flowers of the natural world. In other words, he left the contemporary world, not with the decorative design and pattern work of past eras, but the decoration that could be found by simply stepping out into the natural environment.

Jones was well aware that he had spent the entire contents of The Grammar of Ornament listing the wonders of human ingenuity, as well as the observational acuteness of countless generations, particularly when it came to floral-derived work. The book was and is a wonderful display of the history of the decorative arts. However, Jones was also aware that decoration and pattern work of his own era tended towards the lazy, relying far too heavily on the reuse and reimagining of past historical and decorative eras to the detriment of contemporary pattern and decoration, and certainly to the creativity of the modern designer.

Illustration: Owen Jones. Vine, Holly, Oak, Turkey Oak, Laburnum. All full-sized and traced from nature, 1856.

Therefore, in his last chapter Jones made it clear that the only real way forward for British design and decoration in the nineteenth century was to rediscover the initial inspiration that had fed so many generations of decorative art. To be fair, there was never anything particularly wrong with finding inspiration from the sheer wealth of decorative style that was available in human history, whether that be the floral work of India and Iran, China and Japan, medieval Europe, or classical Greece and Rome. However, Jones believed that it was much more important to try to understand the original inspirational points of reference that made such decorative work stand out over the generations. To him, these reference points were the direct, not second hand, observation of the natural world.

Personally, I am a big fan of first-hand knowledge as far as inspiration goes. Take for example the decorative pattern work of William Morris. His textile work can be beautiful, complex and satisfying, an expert lesson in the use of floral decoration for surface pattern. However, it is only when you actually walk in the natural world and begin to identify the plants and flowers that Morris used within his pattern work, that the experience of his creativity comes alive. To see a wild rose, honeysuckle or columbine in its natural environment makes all the difference. It immediately expands the experience of a Morris textile and in some ways at least, you can share the experience of the observation of the designer. By understanding the beauty of the flower, its colour, shade and line, where it sits in the environment, whether it is in shade or full face to the sun, what plants it prefers to be next too, the attraction it holds for bees and butterflies, its scent, its movement in the breeze, all of these elements now become part of the overall experience of the Morris textile. An appreciation of a moment, one that held the designer transfixed by the simplicity and complexity of nature, all rolled into one expression of a flower or a leaf and caught by them in a piece of decorative pattern work.

Illustration: Owen Jones. Wild Rose, Ivy, Blackberry. All full-sized and traced from nature, 1856.

In this respect, Jones wanted his Leaves and Flowers from Nature chapter to be a kind of clarion call to the designer. His call was more or less, you have seen and experienced the sum of human decoration, its history, its complexity and its indebtedness to the countless generations who have observed and reflected on the natural environment, now get out there, get your hands dirty, get mud on your boots and discover nature on a first-hand basis.

Jones was not the only voice for the practise of first-hand observation of nature. There was a general call from a number of different groupings, whether it be from those who supported the use of mass production or the early supporters of what was to become the Arts and Crafts movement, to literally get out and observe the hedgerows, woods, meadows and gardens. Second-hand inspiration from the decorative past was seen as a dead end without the support of first-hand contemporary observational inspiration.

In many respects, that is the way to differentiate good design from really good design. There has to be a believability in floral work. However, it is important to state that floral decoration and pattern work has never had to slavishly follow the realism of first-hand observation. The important point is to observe, understand and then, from a position of experience, to creatively interpret what you have observed and understood, making sure that the essence of nature is fully incorporated into the creative work.

Illustration: Owen Jones. Hawthorn, Yew, Ivy, Strawberry-Tree. All full-sized and traced from nature, 1856.

This is surely the way a creative reflection of the nature should be. However, with the natural world being forced to retreat further from the human urban environment with every passing year, with many hedgerows, woods, meadows and even gardens becoming simply out of reach for many, we have to wonder how much longer a designer will be able to use first-hand observation to imbue decorative pattern work with any sense of wonder. If the natural world is demoted to some straggly trees in a city square or some temporary non-descript cut flowers in a supermarket, where is the connection, and who is really becoming degraded, the natural world, or those who have produced the scenario for the urban environment?

There are a number of other Owen Jones posts that can be found by pressing the Designer Index tab at the top of the page and looking for Owen Jones.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Decoration from the Mihrab of the Mosque of Cheykhoun, Cairo.

Although non-representational pattern work can be found across the planet and in most cultural heritages, it is perhaps the decorative pattern work of Islam that first springs to mind when considering ideas of non-representational decoration. Therefore, it seems only fitting to use examples of Islamic pattern work for this article about seeming non-representational decoration, although the article itself is not necessarily connected solely to Islamic pattern work.

In some respects, hard geometrical pattern work, which gives to all outward appearances, the impression that it comes entirely from the human imagination, is still routed in the visual and sensory observation of the natural world. Although much of the work in this genre may appear to be geometrical in shape and line, many of these abstractions, particularly in the world of Islamic decoration, although in many other cultures as well, takes the shape of centrally based motifs that could easily be mistaken for multi-petalled flower heads. This is not to say that all of the non-representational pattern work that looks floral is necessarily. However, it does perhaps bring into question the idea that human abstract ideas, in whatever form, have no root or foundation in the real world. The human species is after all a product of its environment, and no matter how much we try to reject or deny that heritage through our construction of artificial urban environments for example, the real rather than the false connections always manage to bleed through to the surface.

Illustration: Decoration from the Mosque of El-Bordeyny, Cairo.

Everything that we imagine, no matter how incredulous and fantastical, has its roots in our human experience. We are rooted in the planet earth; it is our home, both our birth and deathbed. It is our sole experience from that birth to death journey. Even our artificial lifestyles are a product of the planet. All new materials, no matter how sophisticated, have their origin in the fabric of the planet. However, by cocooning ourselves in a technological, air-conditioned envelope, far away from the natural dirt and sweat of reality, we fool ourselves into believing that we have escaped our heritage that we have somehow passed beyond the confines of nature because we can order a pizza on our phone.

The natural environment is not an entity to either be emasculated through 'taming' or obliterated by urban city sprawls. The effect of climate change is already showing us the errors of human over-confidence in believing in its ability to restructure the world for its sole benefit. We have spent the vast bulk of our history living in small groups enmeshed in the natural environment. Our ancestral memories are not ones of air travel, mobile phones, and 24-hour supermarkets; they are of the connection with landscape, our intuitive sensory perception, the understanding of balance and harmony, of being a part of the complex network of life. We forget these life skills at our peril.

Illustration: Decoration from the Mosque of El-Bordeyny, Cairo.

In many respects, the 'complex network of life' could be seen as a good description of abstract pattern work, particularly Islamic decoration, with its interwoven lines constantly connecting and reconnecting, repeatedly underlining the interconnectedness of everything, from the practical material to the seemingly intangible spiritual.

It is not perhaps too far-fetched a notion, to think that the interconnecting points of the Islamic pattern work shown in these examples, ones that are so reminiscent of the petals and centres of flower heads, could be telling us, on some level, that all of life, both material and spiritual, can be found in the endless wonder of a flower head, and through that to the much larger wonder of the natural environment as a whole.

Illustration: Decoration from the Mihrab of the Mosque of Cheykhoun, Cairo.

Conjecture on my part certainly, but the complexity of nature and the human role within that complexity is for every individual to rediscover. How they arrive at that rediscovery is either a matter of personal journeying or happy accident, that we all need to seriously find that connection in our constructed world, seems more pressing as every day passes.

Perhaps it does not really matter whether geometrical pattern work is an abstraction of nature, a symbol of the connectedness of life, or merely artifice, or some other idealism conjecture. Perhaps it is more important as an idea to think about if nothing else. An idea or ideal for a creative individual can be no bad thing.

Further reading links:

Just to let you know that today's post is a guest blog post. I have handed over the spot to Stephanie Armstrong who is going to talk about the textile conservation work done at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston.

The Tapestry Room at the Isabella Gardner Museum

Tucked away in the heart of Boston, just several blocks down from Fenway Park, a Venetian Palazzo sits among the historic brick rises that line the streets. Created in the vision of its founder, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is the treasure of an early twentieth century patron of the arts; "the arts" including everything from music to paintings to, of course, textiles. For over one hundred years after the museum welcomed its first visitors in 1902, the Tapestry Room at the museum has housed some of the finest tapestries in Isabella's prized collection.

As an avid collector of art herself, Isabella Stewart Gardner took particular interest in tapestries. The Tapestry Room itself was created in 1914 with the sole purpose of displaying her impressive collection of ten sixteenth century Flemish tapestries. Since its original incorporation into the second floor of what was originally built as the music room, the four thousand square foot room took on a variety of functions.

Given the room's incredible size in the walls of a space-restricted museum, the Tapestry Room eventually became the host of many other functions, like concerts and other museum programs that serve to entice the modern visitor. In the 1970s, a temporary stage and other functional elements were installed to accommodate visitors with a growing desire for public programs. The Tapestry Room eventually became a public space for the museum, rather than retaining its original intention as a gallery.

The Tapestry Room, as it functioned for many years as a concert space

The room itself resembles a Gothic hall centered around a lavish fourteenth century French fireplace. Pictures taken between 1915 and 1925 by photographers, T. E. Marr and Son, show the original layout of the room, which showcased a piano and other richly carved furniture in the middle of the room. Conservators at the museum took great care in restoring the room to its original state, relying on these photographs to tell the story.

The Tapestry Room, 1926. Photo by T. E. Marr and Son

During the restoration of the Tapestry Room itself, the conservation staff at the museum saw the need to present Isabella's collection of tapestries at its best; a total of eighteen textile restoration projects were planned, which ranged from preserving the aging tapestries to re-upholstering the room's lavish furniture.

Queen Tomyris Learns that Her Son Has Been Taken Captive by Cyrus, 1535-50, Jan van der Moyen

The major textiles in Isabella Stewart Gardner's collection tell the stories of Cyrus the Great, founder of the Persian Empire, and the story of Abraham. (A Conservator's trick to matching the textiles with the stories: look at the top. If there is text, the textile belongs to the Abraham series).

Abraham Receives Rebecca, 1550-1600

To begin the conservation process, staff at the museum carefully used pulleys to lower the tapestries from their mount. Being anywhere from 3 to 5 meters high and 3 to 6 meters wide, these tapestries require a highly skilled and capable staff to dismount and transport the heavy wool properly. The tapestries were then folded and sent to conservators for a tedious, but rewarding, restoration process.

To watch the conservators at work, have a look at this video from ISGM

Today, the room stands as one of the museum's 'must-visit' galleries, rather than a functional space only appreciated in the context of a classical concert. The textiles in the room have been restored to marvellous condition, preserving their history for the next generation of Gardner visitors.

Anne is a senior at Boston College, majoring in Economics and Art History. She is also a Marketing Associated at Argopoint, a management consulting firm in Boston.

Images: http://www.buildingproject.gardnermuseum.org/vision/building-legacy

Illustration: Leopold Stolba. Textile design, 1902.

Another new week and another new designer/artist. Today it is the turn of the Austrian Leopold Stolba. Stolba, like so many creative individuals working between the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries, produced work in a number of disciplines, including textiles. This article is concerned with some of his textile work, and five examples from 1902 illustrate today's article.

Although Stolba's work came in a range of styles, the imagery for his textile work is very much based on the natural world, however stylised it may appear. The stylisation of nature has been a long and fruitful episode in human decorative history, going back to the very beginnings of the human craft system, with stylised depictions painted and engraved onto early ceramics. As an aside, it is interesting to note that ceramics was a relatively late stage in human craft development, and that woven work with natural fibres made into vessels would have come long before any form of ceramic container. Although basketry and woven work in general would have been a vital ingredient in early human culture, it has rarely survived and therefore stone and ceramic tends to dominate our view of these early cultures, which unfortunately gives us only a partial view of their lives and culture.

Illustration: Leopold Stolba. Textile Design, 1902.

Stolba produced a number of floral interpretations, and as can be seen in these five examples, they ranged from the near representational, to the near abstract. Of course, there is an infinite supply of inspirational starting points that could eventually end up as repeatable pattern work, derived both from the natural and man-made environments, but it is to nature that Stolba found inspiration, at least for these particular decorative pieces. It is how he portrayed floral motifs that is perhaps most important, as the range shown is quite telling.

Illustration: Leopold Stolba. Textile design, 1902.

A flower for example, could conceivably be rendered directly with petals surrounding a flower-head centre in such a way that everyone immediately recognises the shape and style as a flower. However, a flower could also be rendered as four or five dots surrounding a central dot, a couple of differently coloured concentric circles, or even one circle by itself, the ultimate in paired down abstraction. Interestingly, most of these forms of abstraction would still be recognisable to most people as renditions of flowers. We have to ask ourselves how we still refer to a seemingly random geometrically abstract motif as a flower. Is it part of our unconscious vocabulary that we can seem to easily place non-representational pattern work within the realms of nature? Even though no one has really given us any indication of parameters, we still often manage to render and understand the original inspiration of the creative designer.

Illustration: Leopold Stolba. Textile design, 1902.

Are the roots of nature still buried deep within our unconscious? Very probably. We have spent perhaps ninety-eight or ninety-nine per cent of our four million year history living so close to nature that we were literally cocooned within its framework. It has only been within the last few millennia that as a species we have begun to lose the connection with the natural world, replacing it with our own artificial and recently mechanised versions. However, it is intriguing to think that our brains still hold that four million year relationship, which far outweighs the two or three thousand years of urban man-made life of recent times. Perhaps this helps to explain why we can easily see the connections with nature, ones that are seemingly hidden within otherwise abstract pattern work.

Illustration: Leopold Stolba. Textile design, 1902.

Whatever the case, Stolba's work shows us how flexible is the subject of nature, particularly when used in connection with the decorative arts and textiles specifically. Flora and fauna derived pattern work has and still does dominate textiles as a decorative subject. Whether we approach repeatable pattern work from the representational tradition, or the abstract geometrical, which rather than being part of the modernist world has a pedigree that is much older than representational flora and fauna. Both will no doubt still exist for millennia to come and take their place in the on-going journey of the depiction of the natural world in textile pattern work of which the work of Leopold Stolba is a valuable link.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Anna Sophie Gasteiger. Ceramic tile designs, 1898.

Decorative pattern work is everywhere we look, whether we are limiting ourselves to our own contemporary environment, or we take in the long sweep of historical eras and cultures. There are of course many different ways that pattern has been constructed over the generations, one of these is the use of repeatable units in order to make a whole. This form of pattern work has proved particularly widespread, long lasting, and adaptable and can be found in a range of disciplines, whether practically through ceramic tiles, stained glass and quilting, to implied units that can be found within printing. Therefore printed textiles and wallpaper are particularly good examples, where stamping takes the place of the physical representation of separate units joined to make a whole.

Illustration: Dietlein. Ceramic tile designs, 1899.

Whichever way units are arranged in pattern form, it is probably more directly obvious when looking at ceramic tiles. Although the examples shown in this article are perhaps the more obvious illustrations to the coherency of joined-up decorative pattern work, it is always interesting to try and separate the individual parts of the pattern from the whole in order to see what is really going on.

At first it may seem as if the examples are fairly simplistic, and in some ways they are, being made up of just a couple of tile designs that are then reflected in order to give four. However, what would happen if different units were placed at a 90% or 180% shift and then consequently shifted around so that they were not allowed to form the obvious pattern for which they were initially created. At first, it would appear as if the tidy, obvious and genuine pattern had been shifted to such an extent that it had lost any obvious cohesion, as if to appear little more than a random, disorganised mess.

Illustration: Dietlein. Ceramic tile designs, 1899.

However, the more units that are then added to the seeming mess, and the further back that you pan your eye, the more it may appear as if new larger and more interesting connections and pattern similarities, if not more original than first intended, start appearing. Obviously, the more complex the individual units and the more initial variety that you have, then the more complex and significant the result. However, it sometimes surprising how much variety can be achieved with limited resources.

What it does show is the power that the single unit can have in forming dynamic and variable pattern work, and perhaps also shows how this form of decorative pattern can be more complex and significant than it is often given credit for. That it often forms an important element within the foundation of much of the traditional, as well as a significant amount of contemporary quilting for example, shows how important the unit can be as both an inspiration as well as a technical and practical tool in forming pattern work. The variety of traditional quilting patterns should give a good example as to how colour can also be added to units in order to add another layer of differentiation, adding to the complexity of pattern.

Illustration: Anna Sophie Gasteiger. Ceramic tile designs, 1898.

On another level altogether is the fact that the human mind is often more than happy to interpret and reenergise connected patterns, where at first there might appear to be none. If we broaden that notion out into a much wider spectrum, then we should have no difficulty in observing and interpreting connecting patterns wherever we go, whether in our everyday lives, or our more extraordinary moments. It is our ability to seek out pattern, connections, and even inter-connections that has allowed us to see the world around us with such extraordinary clarity. However, the same power that allows this clarity of connectivity, can also at times become twisted and self-centred, allowing us to see only a world with ourselves at the centre with everything else becoming peripheral.

Pattern is all about rhythm. If at first we do not recognise the rhythm of connectivity, do not feel or understand the framework of the pattern, then we need to move back further in order to allow ourselves the space to take in the larger picture. From there we may even be able to recognise, and therefore understand the significance of the whole, the pattern, and the plan of the pattern, once experienced never forgotten.

Further reading links:

Illustration: Bruno Mauder. Carpet design, 1903.

Another chance today to see the work of a designer working outside his chosen field of exploration. The German designer Bruno Mauder originally trained as a glass and porcelain painter. However, he did, as many of his contemporaries in the early twentieth century, produce work in other disciplines, including carpet design.

The carpet design shown in the illustrations to this article, was produced by him in 1903. It is an interesting design, not only as far as carpet design during the early twentieth century is concerned, but also on a more personal level as it showed the influences that perhaps Mauder brought from other disciplines to that of carpet design.

Although the early years of the twentieth century were not entirely devoid of simple geometrically inspired carpet design work, it was more usual to use the genre of the floral, of which there were many traditional as well as innovational examples. However, this early example by Mauder did show the way that the decorative arts world was moving, particularly in Germany, where geometrically inspired work could on the one hand be artistically derived through an individual and contained decorative format, while on the other expressing itself in strict repetitive motifs that were deliberately connected to the repetitive world of the industrial process.

Although Germany derived inspiration and was influenced be certain aspects of the English Arts and Crafts movement, particularly the ideal of honesty to materials and function, it parted ways with the English over such fundamental details as the linking of production to the machine. Whilst not all English designers associated, however loosely, with the Arts and Crafts movement, saw the machine as an anathema, the majority did, which to some extent meant that many talented creative individuals in England spent their time in the Cotswolds, rather than trying to reform design within the industrial process. It took until the 1930s for Britain to understand the importance of the designer within the mass manufacturing process, and by that time it was far too late, as Germany, the United States and other industrial countries and regions had integrated design and designers to such an extent within industry, that the British contribution looked clumsy and miss-directed by comparison.

Illustration: Bruno Mauder. Quarter detail of carpet design, 1903.

To return to Mauder and his carpet design, understanding that he had a creative history that contained aspects of the glass discipline, as well as that of porcelain decoration, it perhaps can be seen that this carpet design in particular has elements of those disciplines. The design does have a translucent quality to it and it would not be too far to imagine the border design in particular being used for the decoration of ceramics.

It is a beautifully coloured and proportioned example of carpet design, one that would have a harmonious and quieting effect within an interior setting. It is difficult to know how many examples of design and decorative work that Mauder produced in other disciplines, or even if there are other examples of carpet design than the one shown here. He did work within education for much of his career, although his glasswork can be found across Europe in a number of collections.

The full carpet design at the top of the page has been put together by me in photoshop from the quarter example shown further down. While nearly complete, it should be noted that the middle of the vertical and the middle of the horizontal points don't quite meet up. This is particularly noticeable at the decorative border. However, despite this I thought that it would still give a more complete idea of what the carpet would have originally looked like if had ever been produced. I am not certain if it ever was, and could well have been a design project or example by Mauder, completed just a couple of years after he had left college when he was about 26.

Further reading links:

The Design Work of Josef Maria Auchentaller

Looking Back in Order to Look Forward

New Ebook: The Pattern Work of William Morris

The Contemporary Maori Inspired Pattern Work of Mitch Manuel

New Ebook: The Pattern Work of A W N Pugin

Flower and Leaf as Inspiration for Decoration

Decorative Interpretations of the Medieval World

The Embroidery Work of Herta Koch

The Medieval English Oak

Cotton: The Fabric that Made the Modern World

The Embroidery Design Work of A W N Pugin

The New York Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1853

Floral Decoration in Mughal India

Nature as Illustrated in the Work of Adolf Bohm

Owen Jones, Decoration, Pattern and the Observation of Nature

Abstract Decorative Pattern Work

The Tapestry Room at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

The Textile Design Work of Leopold Stolba

Pattern, Connectivity and the Unit

Carpet Design by Bruno Mauder