![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaSo, as threatened in yesterday evening's post, I headed down to London to parasite ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snow_leopard's spare ticket to the Black British Style exhibition preview at the V&A.
Having allowed plenty of spare time for the trains to be delayed, derailed, missing presumed dead, disinclined, etc, they weren't, and I arrived early. This meant I had a spare twenty minutes to kill, since Snow_Leopard is currently unphoneable, so sneaked into my beloved British Galleries. I still think many museums could benefit from a quick whizz through the British Galleries for an object lesson in how to present old-style museum exhibits in a modern, informative and entertaining way.
I wasn't very sure exactly what "Black British Style" entailed. And, frankly, I'm still not. As far as I can tell, parts of the exhibition had been put together by middle-aged white people, who'd possibly never met any of the this weird, alien race "the black people".ach suggests that the V&A may have employed the WI as consultants.
Worse, the V&A had employed two teams of placard writers who never spoke to each other. One team was desperately trying to keep some cohesion in the exhibition, defining black styles, trends and attitudes. The other team, meanwhile, was impatiently trying to point out that you couldn't stereotype black fashion, that the clothes black people wear are entirely individualistic.
The exhibition was staged in one, long room. It consisted almost entirely of clothing, a few photos, and a little side room showing a looping film. Some of the clothes were undisputably of African origin - outfits based round national dress, or from African fabrics. Others stuck me as the sort of clothes which I'd expect to see midle-aged Afro-Caribbean ladies wearing to church, though how accurate my ideas are I'm unsure. They, I think, are possibly the stereotype images I have of "black style". Many others of the exhibits seemed simply to be "clothes someone black wore once" - high-street shop outfits, from the likes of Kaliko - stylish, certainly, but I was unsure how they could be defined as "black" style, particularly.
We wandered through the room, which mostly seemed to be a fairly random collection of clothes, in approximate chronological order. Many of the placards drew attention to political aspects of the clothing which - while I may be very wrong - sounded like someone looking for patterns where none exist. For example, when Dizzie Rascal recently wore a t-shirt printed with a picture of his own face, do you think he was simply playing up to the egotistical rep of rappers, or was he referencing the t-shirts of 70s political campaigns, such as free Angela Davis. As Snow_Leopard pointed out, only the area which covered Rastafarianism seemed to make much sense, either as a museum exhibit or an aspect of fashion.
Towards the end of the room, where the displays were mostly current sports and desginerwear - clothes that yes, I could imagine black teenagers wearing, but also white teenagers - a placard proclaimed that: Today one might seee a young black woman dressed in a blend of Goth and Punk clothing, or mixing design ethos of different fashion designers with her own take on what it means to be black and British.
I hadn't realised what a responsibility getting dressed was. I wear clothes which are comfortable, or which I like, or in which I think I look good. It wouldn't occur to me that people might take my choice of clothing as me making a statement about what it means to be a WASP living in England. Does being black constantly present you with a weighty responsibility to make statements everytime you choose an outfit ?
And, if anyone can help out with this sentence from a placard, I'd be most grateful: ...the smooth rhytmns of Lover's rock are echoed in the svelte line of a man's camel coat.
If anything, this exhibition has suggested that yes, there are certain styles which I'd identify as popularised, or begun, by black people, even if they're now worn by many people. What the exhibition did not do was go much of the way towards explaining any of this, or suggesting how the styles have spread. I could believe that political movements of the day did influence clothes choices, but don't feel that the exhibition presented this in a coherent or convincing way.
So, no. Really not one of the V&A's better efforts - which is a shame, because their exhibitions are usually cracking. We came out unexpectedly early and, having discovered that the only pub in South Kensington was full, went into a very strange bar - stuck in a 1978 timewarp and playing non-stop Abba on a skipping CD player - for drinks at frightening South Ken prices. The walls were plastered with photos of punters and little red fairy lights and, although we didn't actually see a table lamp made from a wine bottle, I'm betting they have one somewhere. And I'd lay money they'd have had Campari behind the bar. We beat a hasty retreat when a guy (who was either the evening's "turn" or an opportunist nutter) whipped out a guitar.
After the train back to Oxford, I walked home. Undressing to go to bed I was surprised to find that the turn up of my trousers (they're slightly too long for me... in my clothing, I'm demonstrating that I'm white and English, by showing my commitment to working class northern roots and childhood hand-me-down clothes. Oh yes.) was extremely damp. And damp at the front, too - how odd. Closer investigation revealed that the turn up contained a medium-sized and extremely put-out garden snail. I apologised profusely and put him in the garden. I have no idea how he ended up in my trousers.
Oh, and for the first time ever I heard a music-based polyphonic ringtone which sounded good. Someone on the train had a rendition of Graham Coxon's Freakin' Out which was actually pleasant to listen to. I'm not saying I think it made a good ringtone, mind, merely that it wasn't an unpleasant noise.
snow_leopard's spare ticket to the Black British Style exhibition preview at the V&A. Having allowed plenty of spare time for the trains to be delayed, derailed, missing presumed dead, disinclined, etc, they weren't, and I arrived early. This meant I had a spare twenty minutes to kill, since Snow_Leopard is currently unphoneable, so sneaked into my beloved British Galleries. I still think many museums could benefit from a quick whizz through the British Galleries for an object lesson in how to present old-style museum exhibits in a modern, informative and entertaining way.
I wasn't very sure exactly what "Black British Style" entailed. And, frankly, I'm still not. As far as I can tell, parts of the exhibition had been put together by middle-aged white people, who'd possibly never met any of the this weird, alien race "the black people".
ach suggests that the V&A may have employed the WI as consultants. Worse, the V&A had employed two teams of placard writers who never spoke to each other. One team was desperately trying to keep some cohesion in the exhibition, defining black styles, trends and attitudes. The other team, meanwhile, was impatiently trying to point out that you couldn't stereotype black fashion, that the clothes black people wear are entirely individualistic.
The exhibition was staged in one, long room. It consisted almost entirely of clothing, a few photos, and a little side room showing a looping film. Some of the clothes were undisputably of African origin - outfits based round national dress, or from African fabrics. Others stuck me as the sort of clothes which I'd expect to see midle-aged Afro-Caribbean ladies wearing to church, though how accurate my ideas are I'm unsure. They, I think, are possibly the stereotype images I have of "black style". Many others of the exhibits seemed simply to be "clothes someone black wore once" - high-street shop outfits, from the likes of Kaliko - stylish, certainly, but I was unsure how they could be defined as "black" style, particularly.
We wandered through the room, which mostly seemed to be a fairly random collection of clothes, in approximate chronological order. Many of the placards drew attention to political aspects of the clothing which - while I may be very wrong - sounded like someone looking for patterns where none exist. For example, when Dizzie Rascal recently wore a t-shirt printed with a picture of his own face, do you think he was simply playing up to the egotistical rep of rappers, or was he referencing the t-shirts of 70s political campaigns, such as free Angela Davis. As Snow_Leopard pointed out, only the area which covered Rastafarianism seemed to make much sense, either as a museum exhibit or an aspect of fashion.
Towards the end of the room, where the displays were mostly current sports and desginerwear - clothes that yes, I could imagine black teenagers wearing, but also white teenagers - a placard proclaimed that: Today one might seee a young black woman dressed in a blend of Goth and Punk clothing, or mixing design ethos of different fashion designers with her own take on what it means to be black and British.
I hadn't realised what a responsibility getting dressed was. I wear clothes which are comfortable, or which I like, or in which I think I look good. It wouldn't occur to me that people might take my choice of clothing as me making a statement about what it means to be a WASP living in England. Does being black constantly present you with a weighty responsibility to make statements everytime you choose an outfit ?
And, if anyone can help out with this sentence from a placard, I'd be most grateful: ...the smooth rhytmns of Lover's rock are echoed in the svelte line of a man's camel coat.
If anything, this exhibition has suggested that yes, there are certain styles which I'd identify as popularised, or begun, by black people, even if they're now worn by many people. What the exhibition did not do was go much of the way towards explaining any of this, or suggesting how the styles have spread. I could believe that political movements of the day did influence clothes choices, but don't feel that the exhibition presented this in a coherent or convincing way.
So, no. Really not one of the V&A's better efforts - which is a shame, because their exhibitions are usually cracking. We came out unexpectedly early and, having discovered that the only pub in South Kensington was full, went into a very strange bar - stuck in a 1978 timewarp and playing non-stop Abba on a skipping CD player - for drinks at frightening South Ken prices. The walls were plastered with photos of punters and little red fairy lights and, although we didn't actually see a table lamp made from a wine bottle, I'm betting they have one somewhere. And I'd lay money they'd have had Campari behind the bar. We beat a hasty retreat when a guy (who was either the evening's "turn" or an opportunist nutter) whipped out a guitar.
After the train back to Oxford, I walked home. Undressing to go to bed I was surprised to find that the turn up of my trousers (they're slightly too long for me... in my clothing, I'm demonstrating that I'm white and English, by showing my commitment to working class northern roots and childhood hand-me-down clothes. Oh yes.) was extremely damp. And damp at the front, too - how odd. Closer investigation revealed that the turn up contained a medium-sized and extremely put-out garden snail. I apologised profusely and put him in the garden. I have no idea how he ended up in my trousers.
Oh, and for the first time ever I heard a music-based polyphonic ringtone which sounded good. Someone on the train had a rendition of Graham Coxon's Freakin' Out which was actually pleasant to listen to. I'm not saying I think it made a good ringtone, mind, merely that it wasn't an unpleasant noise.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-10-07 06:36 am (UTC)Which reminds me - how are the spiders? Did they get moved on in the end?
no subject
Date: 2004-10-07 06:54 am (UTC)You're actually the second person to enquire about them today. Update coming shortly.