underground women (part 1)

the paper that i was writing was so difficult in part because it has nothing to do with my current work. it was a bit of a fossil from my ma. the person it was about, however, was a fairly interesting woman, so i'm glad that i did finally finish it.

her name was ethel mairet, and she was an early twentieth century british handweaver. that doesn't make her sound like the most interesting person on earth, and i have to admit that i liked her at least in part because she was a no-apologies crotchety old bag who liked her dogs and her cats more than the people around her. in any case, she ran a weaving workshop for some time, was briefly married to ananda coomaraswamy, who is himself a fascinating case study, she helped to teach gandhi how to weave, she traveled all over, married a second man 15 years her junior, divorced him, and spent most of her time at a loom simultaneously griping and weaving. in any case, i liked her because her story completely upsets the new categories of art history - she had an interracial marriage, but was liberally racist, she was middle class but liked to pretend she wasn't, a feminist and submissive wife - in other words a category stumper, a boundary blurrer.

the one friend she was able to maintain was marianne straub, herself a weaver, though she trained more in the technology of weaving than in the use of wool and colour. straub was eventually responsible for some of the weavings used as fabrics in the london underground, which was, at least for the first three quarters of the twentieth century a beacon for modern british art in a way that blurred boundaries of its own - craft, design, high art. it would make an interesting case study for the subversion of the white cube space of the gallery....

...the idea of hand-designed work that would then be taken up by industry and mass-manufactured was the goal of both ethel mairet and marianne straub. they both saw it as a way of controlling capitalism, of adding a human element to the disembodied industry of textile production. neither, of course, saw the current move of textile production to sweat shops and offshore free trade zones, though both would have been horrified but probably not surprised at the complete separation of production and consumption (mairet actually predicted such an outcome during her travels with coomaraswamy in sri lanka where british imperial pressure was moving textile production from a community craft to a factory-based system of production).

neither of course did mairet or straub predict the links between computer coding and weaving - the binary code of programming actually follows the logic of weaving, visible, i think, in some of these weavings.

in terms of the tube as a moving gallery, the map of the london underground might be a case in point.

designed by henry beck, it's actually based on an electric circuit diagram, abandoning scale and geographic convention in a diagrammatic outline that actually inspired a whole series of other art works, like scott patterson's great bear (actually in the saatchi collection),

of course a geographically accurate map had to be made...

and the following rather lovely tale of the moquette seating on the london underground, borrowed from taxloss at this isn't london:

""Moquette" is the robust, deep-pile material used to cover the seats on the London Underground and on London buses.
For many years these seats were simple wooden benches. When the decision was made to upgrade to padded seats, the Royal Geographical Society despatched explorers to points throughout the British Empire to find a material tough enough to withstand the rears of thousands of Londoners.
The breakthrough was made by Sir Magnus Larchwood in south-west Africa. In 1923 he discovered a species called the moquette (a relation of the meerkat) that had checked fur in a variety of striking colours, notably orange, purple, blue and brown. A trade in the moquette was set up and Tubes were furbished with their hides.
Sadly, such was the demand for moquette skins that the native population quickly dwindled. The ranks of this noble beast were further eroded after the second world war when they fell prey to Wrigley's Disease, a malady spread by discarded chewing gum. The last moquette died in captivity at the Royal College of Fashion in 1974 during a desperate attempt to equip the new Jubilee Line. "

in actual fact, it was something more like this:
"Following the formation of the London Passenger Transport Board in 1933, Frank Pick, the charismatic vice chairman set about creating a distinctive corporate identity for the new company including commissioning freelance designers to create customised seating fabrics. Pick, now London Transport's Chief Executive and his Publicity Officer, Christian Barman, invited established artists and textile designers to submit their ideas for new seating upholstery. These designers had no specific experience of designing moquette fabrics but Pick wanted to persuade the manufacturers and designers to work together to produce not only hard wearing, but also aesthetically pleasing materials. Their brief was to design fabrics that responded well to artificial light and patterns and which took into account wear and tear and soiling. The first four artists commissioned were Marion Dorn, Norbet Dutton, Enid Marx and Paul Nash and the new moquettes produced were predominately geometric and utterly contemporary – truly cutting edge design overthrowing all the floral patterns previously produced. This tradition has continued today with moquette designs by such textile designers as Marianne Straub and other 70’s, 80’s and 90’s designs still distinctive in every commuter’s memory."





