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Polly&me – masterpieces in idle chatter from Pakistan

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‘GupShup’ means chit chat in Urdu and Hindi. It was the title of an exhibition by Polly&me, a group working on an embroidery project involving women in Chitral, in the North-West Frontier Province of Pakistan. The results of their workshops were displayed in Islamabad and Karachi, where half of the works were sold. The creative processes which produced these works were aligned closely with the grain of everyday existence. These simple pleasures of daily life shine brightly against the dark clouds of global tension associated with this corner of the world.

Polly&me was developed by Cath Braid, an Australian who originally started work in northern Pakistan with Kirsten Ainsworth as part of the clothing label Caravana, which featured in Smartworks. Cath has been working in Chitral since 2003. The town is in the north-west frontier of Pakistan, near Afghanistan, and lies nested within the mountain range of the Hindu Kush. Populated by the Kho people, fond of playing polo, the region is synonymous with fundamentalist terrorism in the Western mind.
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Cath has been working with the AKRSP (Aga Khan Rural Support Program) to assist women’s development. Her work in Chitral was assisted by Rolla Khadduri, a Lebanese woman, who has been working in Pakistan for four years. For Rolla, this project is ‘an opportunity to give women the space to tell their own stories’. Rolla worked with Cath
on running the workshops, probing the women about their stories, and recording their tales to appear at the back of each textile.

Cath has been working with 30 mostly unmarried women in particular. She begins with story-telling, dealing with everyday themes such as family life. They explore the graphic world around them, particularly in packaging of products from the market. Their creative exercises include making a collage of photographs of children. These them form the basis of the embroideries.

The subject of their embroideries included everyday play, such as Eikonchekek, the egg fighting game during Eid, the mother-daughter relationship and children’s names. At the same time as they explored freely their lives, these women were quite proud of their isolation (or protection) from the outside world through purdah.

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Eikonchekek reflects the play during the feast of Eid when children go into battle with eggs. The story depicts a young boy who would boil his eggs so that they could withstand assault.

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Games with Didi was created by Haseena, a 23 year-old unmarried woman. It depicts the riotous play between children, including Didi sitting in the tub usually reserved for washing dishes. Haseena talks about the experience of making this work:

During the workshops I used to go home with a certain joy in my heart from my work, I had become workaholic, and was not even aware of the time as we used to be so deeply involved in our work, it was fun, the practicality like practically first doing the task before going into the designing part was just wonderful.

Haseena particularly liked the exercise of drawing without looking at the paper. She was pleased to travel to Islamabad for the exhibition – ‘my childhood adventure was known to the world’ – and will be depositing money from the sale in a savings account with her bank.

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The work Sultan the Sitar-Player depicts a famous musician who performs historic songs of political opposition in Farsi. He is accompanied by a jerry-can. It was created by Naseema, Shehria and Saba. From one of his songs:

People don’t know who I am mad after,
They don’t know what is in my heart,
Those who are in love know this pain,
Oh, queen of beauty,
I want your beauty’s charity,
Like a beggar I have come
For only I deserve your beauty’s charity,
Even my heart has stopped functioning.

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Pot Swap was created by Zaibunissa, a mother of three. According to Zaibunissa:

Obviously it represents my house. I was so surprised to see my kitchen in the piece. My children helped me a lot on the piece and that gave a more personal touch to the piece as all my family got very emotionally attached with. That gave me very soothing and satisfying feelings.

This work was purchased by the Executive Director, The US Educational Foundation in Pakistan. Zaibun says that she will use the money to support her son’s education, ‘because for the admission of my son in a good college I’ll be needing that money as today’s inflation era people mostly hesitate in giving loan or lending money.’

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Mehndi was created by nine women, including Musarat, a 13 year old girl. At the exhibition opening, Mehndi was interviewed by Aaj TV, which greatly impressed her family back in Chitral: ‘I had never before in my life faced a TV camera and they were saying that they felt really proud that among all the other girls I was chosen for an interview.’ Mehndi now wants to take on the role of Cath and Rolla and teach others herself, but according to her friend Nasreen, ‘in Chitrali Nang Kizibiko Lo, You have to come out of age for all this you are too young to even think of such a thing.’

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Each textile work has its corresponding narrative sewn onto its back. To broaden involvement with the community, button pieces have been developed that women embroider with the names of male relatives and prayers. 250 women became involved in this.

Gup Shup is a landmark collaboration. Rather than seeking to preserve craft in its pure traditional form, this project introduces creative strategies to develop new images that seem true to the lives of their makers. But what seems most striking about his project is the sheer quality of the work itself, both in its craftsmanship and deft arrangement of ordinary elements.

This project seems quite transparent about the experience of the women it is meant to support. Apart for the creative challenges that they enjoyed, there seemed also benefits in the money and recognition that their work brings. But the meaning of this project is never complete. We watch with great interest to see how the women continue this momentum, and whether young girls like Musarat eventually start initiating project themselves.

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Games with Didi and Sultan the Sitar Player will be on display with the World of Small Things exhibition. There will also be bags embroidered made by the women for sale in the Craft Victoria show. Proceeds from the work go directly to the women who made them.

For more information about the project, please visit their extensive website:

Thanks to Ange Braid and Grace Cochrane for their assistance.

Carole Douglas – a new tradition for trash in Kachchh

Carole Douglas is an Australian who has become deeply involved in a particular craft scene in India, the dyers and weavers of Kachchh. In 2001, her engagement has been deepened following the devastating earthquake in the region. She has now developed a project that honours these crafts and supports environmental awareness. This is her story.

Litter: India is no different from many other countries in its use of plastic bags. It dose however have an issue with litter. The products made by Tejsi Dhana will be used as a campaign to highlight the issue.

Litter: India is no different from many other countries in its use of plastic bags. It dose however have an issue with litter. The products made by Tejsi Dhana will be used as a campaign to highlight the issue.

Litter: India is no different from many other countries in its use of plastic bags. It does however have an issue with litter. The products made by Tejsi Dhana will be used as a campaign to highlight the issue.
Motif: Maldhari - cattle herder

Motif: Maldhari - cattle herder

Motif: Maldhari – cattle herder by Tejsi Dhana

New Zealand born Carole Douglas trained as an art teacher and studied textile design at Wellington Design School. During her early career she taught art and design at intermediate, secondary and tertiary institutions, worked as crafts coordinator for rural Northland and tutored in adult education. In 1980 she established her textile studio ‘Dyeversions’ from which she produced large public and private commissions and exhibition pieces. In 1981 Carole won the New Zealand Academy of Fine Arts inaugural Fibre Art award. Before moving to Australia in 1986 she served two terms as vice president of the NZ Crafts Council.

In 1994 Carole returned to University where she merged her arts background with strong environmental interests and completed a master’s degree in Social Ecology. Her work since that time has been a fusion of art, environment and social advocacy. As recipient of an environmental citizen’s award Carole attended the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro and later focused on creative usage of the waste stream.

In 1996 she travelled to Kachchh (India) in search of traditional, natural dyeing techniques and met with renowned natural dyer (late) Mohamed Siddequebai Khatri and his sons. Descended from a lineage of artisans the present generation traces their traditions back to Persia. During this and subsequent visits Carole forged strong bonds with local artisans and in 2001 following the devastating earthquake she put her efforts into raising funds to help them overcome trauma and rebuild lives and livelihoods. The exhibition ‘Resurgence – stories of an earthquake, survival and art’ was a direct outcome of these efforts. It opened at the Manly Art Gallery and Museum in 2003 and in 2006 it was acquired by the Prince of Wales Museum in Mumbai.

Since 2005, Carole has organized and led eight textile focused groups to Kachchh and beyond. She recently introduced carbon off-set taxes which, in conjunction with Shrujan Trust, contribute to an education and reafforestation project in remote areas. A group of Kachchhi embroiderers is currently employed to create images for a publication that will inform locals about the importance of trees.

In 2008, Carole was invited to curate an exhibition for the UNESCO conference ‘Education for Sustainability’ held in Ahmedabad. ‘New Voices New Futures’ is a collection of works by the new generation of Kachchh artisans and focuses on social and ecological sustainability. Carole also works with traditional artisans and the Victoria & Albert Museum staff to develop products based on the Museum’s collection.

Marigold temple garlands in Bhuj, Jabbar Khatri's main source of the flowers used to obtain vibrant yellow.

Marigold temple garlands in Bhuj, Jabbar Khatri's main source of the flowers used to obtain vibrant yellow.

Marigold temple garlands in Bhuj, Jabbar Khatri’s main source of the flowers used to obtain vibrant yellow.
Marigold garlands are sun dried on the rooftop and stored in a  dark cool place. Many blooms are required to dye one scarf but the supply is plentiful.

Marigold garlands are sun dried on the rooftop and stored in a dark cool place. Many blooms are required to dye one scarf but the supply is plentiful.

Marigold garlands are sun dried on the rooftop and stored in a dark cool place. Many blooms are required to dye one scarf but the supply is plentiful.
Scarf is immersed in dye bath. Up to 250 gms of dried flowers is used for one piece.

Scarf is immersed in dye bath. Up to 250 gms of dried flowers is used for one piece.

Scarf is immersed in dye bath. Up to 250 gms of dried flowers is used for one piece.
The scarf is dipped into an alum mordant to fix the colour.

The scarf is dipped into an alum mordant to fix the colour.

The scarf is dipped into an alum mordant to fix the colour.
The process is repeated until the desired depth of shade is reached.

The process is repeated until the desired depth of shade is reached.

The process is repeated until the desired depth of shade is reached.
Untied scraves dry in the Bhuj sunshine. Centre colour is the result of  marigold overdyed with iron (black).

Untied scraves dry in the Bhuj sunshine. Centre colour is the result of marigold overdyed with iron (black).

Untied scraves dry in the Bhuj sunshine. Centre colour is the result of marigold overdyed with iron (black).
The surprise comes when the thousands of tiny knots are untied and the design is released. The threads are collected and used again as cleaning pads in the automotive industry.

The surprise comes when the thousands of tiny knots are untied and the design is released. The threads are collected and used again as cleaning pads in the automotive industry.

The surprise comes when the thousands of tiny knots are untied and the design is released. The threads are collected and used again as cleaning pads in the automotive industry.
Close up detail of the motif. Each of the white 'dots' represents a tied knot that resists the dye. Thousands of woman are employed througout Kachhch in this tradition. Bandhani, as this tradition is known, is the greatest source of income in the hand crafted textile industry in Kachhch. The district also supplies tied, undyed pieces for dyeing throughout India.

Close up detail of the motif. Each of the white 'dots' represents a tied knot that resists the dye. Thousands of woman are employed througout Kachhch in this tradition. Bandhani, as this tradition is known, is the greatest source of income in the hand crafted textile industry in Kachhch. The district also supplies tied, undyed pieces for dyeing throughout India.

Close up detail of the motif. Each of the white ‘dots’ represents a tied knot that resists the dye. Thousands of woman are employed througout Kachhch in this tradition. Bandhani, as this tradition is known, is the greatest source of income in the hand crafted textile industry in Kachhch. The district also supplies tied, undyed pieces for dyeing throughout India.

Carole’s current work includes the development of a range of sustainable textiles in collaboration with Kachchh artisans. Products to date include a marigold dyed scarf by Bandhani artisan Jabbar Khatri who collects used garlands from local Hindu temples. While Jabbar’s designs are generally based on traditional motifs, Carole prefers to integrate theme and process and in this case she herself has designed the marigold flower motif.

The ethic behind my work is to create items that consider environmental responsibility, social equity and economic viability and that also observe cultural mores. I do my best not to impose my design ideals onto artisans and prefer to find ways that satisfy local and international aesthetics.

We look carefully at resource, water and energy uses; we recognize that everyone needs to be rewarded and we work out prices that cover production and what the end market will bear. Sometimes we all have to compromise.

Another recent product was the result of discussions during the development of the UNESCO project when Carole suggested artisans look to the waste steam for potential materials. The resulting range of bags and place mats is woven from locally collected plastic waste using traditional techniques. The once-used bags are cut into strips and meticulously woven by Tejsi Dhana and his family. Each bag contains in excess of 100 discarded bags and are both beautiful and durable. Carole intends to use these products to launch an anti-litter campaign later in the year.

Collected contaminated plastic waste is carted to Mumbai for recycling. We collect clean waste for reuse.

Collected contaminated plastic waste is carted to Mumbai for recycling. We collect clean waste for reuse.

Collected contaminated plastic waste is carted to Mumbai for recycling. Clean waste is collected for use.
The Artisan's Loom: Tejsi works at his primitive loom and produces pieces of great beauty and durability.

The Artisan's Loom: Tejsi works at his primitive loom and produces pieces of great beauty and durability.

The Artisan’s Loom: Tejsi works at his primitive loom and produces pieces of great beauty and durability.
Tejsi Demonstrates the technique employed for making the waste plastic bags. More than 200 bags are used in one small item.

Tejsi Demonstrates the technique employed for making the waste plastic bags. More than 200 bags are used in one small item.

Tejsi Demonstrates the technique employed for making the waste plastic bags.
Tejsi Dhana Marwada (R) master Kharad weaver with his cousin Sumar who assists in the process. Please note the vegetable dyed wools in the background used for rug weaving.

Tejsi Dhana Marwada (R) master Kharad weaver with his cousin Sumar who assists in the process. Please note the vegetable dyed wools in the background used for rug weaving.

Tejsi Dhana Marwada (R) master Kharad weaver with his cousin Sumar who assists in the process. Please note the vegetable dyed wools in the background used for rug weaving.
Motif: Ploughing. Cattle herding along with dry-land farming is the backbone of the  local economy and has been practiced in the Banni area of Kachchh for several centuries.

Motif: Ploughing. Cattle herding along with dry-land farming is the backbone of the local economy and has been practiced in the Banni area of Kachchh for several centuries.

Motif: Ploughing. Cattle herding along with dry-land farming is the backbone of the local economy and has been practiced in the Banni area of Kachchh for several centuries.
Motif: Animals We Depend on. (detail) The people of the Banni depend on Goats for wool and milk, Camels for transport and livelihood and Buffalo (water) for Milk poducts.

Motif: Animals We Depend on. (detail) The people of the Banni depend on Goats for wool and milk, Camels for transport and livelihood and Buffalo (water) for Milk poducts.

Motif: Animals We Depend on. (detail) The people of the Banni depend on Goats for wool and milk, Camels for transport and livelihood and Buffalo (water) for Milk poducts.

Sustainability remains a complex question in Carole’s view.

When we did the New Voices New Futures show one of the artisans gave an opening address in which he stated: “When I think about sustainability in the outside world it seems a very complicated issue. For me and my family it is very simple. Sustainability for us means two good meals a day and a change of clothes.” When I reflect on Chaman’s comment I know that if I lived as he and many others do then my life would be so much easier and my footprint so much smaller. It is food for thought. The artisans I know live simply, work creatively, interact richly and, as far as I can tell, are happy. I don’t believe that this is a romantic view although I have to be always mindful of this in India.

Carole Douglas writes about the artisan who wove from plastic bags:

Tejsi Dhana was born and raised in the small and remote border village of Kuran. The hamlet lies on the edge of the Great Rann of Kachchh and is the last inhabited place before the Pakistan border. Due to border sensitivities most foreigners are denied permission to visit. This is camel country and Tejsi’s ancestors wove udder bags, bridles and other camel trappings from local camel, goat and sheep wool. This particular style of weaving later evolved into coarse but durable floor mats for the local market and are traditionally camel (brown) and goat (black) in colour.

The 2001 earthquake destroyed ninety percent of Kuran village and when I first met Tejsi, 4 months later, he was ‘squatting’ on a hillside near the village of Kukma some 25 kilometres from Bhuj. He saw the earthquake as a “God given” opportunity to move his extended family closer to services and to outlets for his work. By that time (May 2001) the family group had built several ‘bhungas’ – typical Kachchhi round mud homes with conical thatched roofs – and he had set up his primitive Kharad loom under a thatched shelter.

It was from this hillside and on this loom that Tejsi wove his remarkable wall rug ‘From Kuran to Kukma’ for the exhibition Resurgence in which he graphically recreated his search for a new place to settle. Beginning with his original home under the lee of the legendary black hills of Kachchh Tejsi wove his journey from horror to peace at ‘lilu drasia’ (green view) his then current place of domicile. From this new vantage point he had a vista of green fields rather than the arid salt marsh that is the great Rann of Kachchh, his children attended the local school and he could get his goods to the market in Bhuj or nearby Bhujodi – the noted village of weavers. He however he knew his time at ‘lilu drasia’ was limited due to the government policy of resettling all earthquake refugees in their home villages.

Meanwhile back in Sydney, photographer friend Jenny Templin, noted for her Indian images, raised money through an exhibition at Bondi Pavilion. She later handed me $2000 to help a family in need and with an extra $500 donated by my husband it was enough to allow Tejsi to buy a large plot of land near Kukma where he could build homes and a weaving studio.

Six years later Tejsi’s studio is well established, he employs two other family members and his work has evolved significantly. While he still uses the original loom, he has become an expert in natural dyes and creates rugs of great beauty using the subtle hues that pomegranate, indigo, lac, sappan, iron and other substances yield on local sheep wool. He has extended his design vocabulary and constantly researches traditional images. His son Samat, now 21, is now also a master weaver and chooses to make rugs that explore environmental themes. His piece ‘Trees are Life’ shows the story of changes to the land through the loss of trees and to the future. The plastic bag bags and place mats, an outcome from earlier discussions about waste materials, are created by Tejsi and his cousin on a simple Kharad loom and use local packing string for the warp and handles.

Today the future of the family’s products is precarious. Economic factors play a large part in the survival of marginal crafts such as Kharad weaving. There are now only two families in the entire district who are engaged in the tradition; the goods are difficult to sell for many reasons including limited production capacity, design factors, lack of appreciation, the high cost of transport and competition from much cheaper goods. Desert Traditions is currently working on a narrative range for an exhibition (hopefully at Bondi Pavilion). This will complete a circle, promote traditional work and, at best, find an appreciative buying audience for this ancient craft.


The use of found materials, particularly recycling, is something we normally associate with craft inspired by Western modernism, as an expression of style over substance. In the case of the Indian artisans that Carole Douglas works with, it is responding to local environmental issues. Recycled art is usually in response to a local problem. Can we share these problems in a feeling of solidarity, beside not being our own problem?

Thanks to Carole Douglas for images and text. You can see these works in the World of Small Things exhibition.

Timor-Leste – A king’s granddaughter helps re-weave a nation

The following text is from Sara Niner, courtesy of the Alola Foundation:

    Dom Alexio and Ofelia's grandfather Magno

    Dom Alexio and Ofelia's grandfather Magno

    Luirai Dom Alexio Corte Real of Ainaro and WWII hero (Centre) with Local Chiefs and Antonio Magno (far right). Aileu, Portuguese Timor 1938

    The back-strap loom common to Timor and surrounding islands was brought down by migrants from the Bronze-age Dongson culture in mainland South-east Asia around 500BC. Today, geometric Dongson patterning and designs from Indian cloth traded by Arabs and Europeans for slaves and spices in Timor in the second century are mixed with motifs from indigenous myth and lore such as boats and crocodiles representing the original ancestors’ journeys to the islands. Local ceremonies and rituals of birth, marriage and death employ exchange of such cloth to bind together and integrate the worlds of the living and the spirits, expressing a desire for union and balance between the two worlds. Cloth is the physical embodiment of femaleness and, as sacred Lulik objects and heirlooms, they possess special powers.

    Partially completed weaving on backstrap loom from Timor-Leste. Loom design by Ofelia Neves Napoleao

    Partially completed weaving on backstrap loom from Timor-Leste. Loom design by Ofelia Neves Napoleao

    Partially completed weaving on backstrap loom from Timor-Leste. Loom design by Ofelia Neves Napoleao

    The motif here is a floral design from Portugal—the colonisers of Timor from the 16th Century until the Indonesian invasion of 1975. The designer Ofelia Neves Napoleao is the child of a Portuguese father and a Timorese mother who was the daughter of the Luirai or local king of Ainaro, Antonio Magno. In the feudal-style society of Ofelia’s childhood, Luirai families constituted the upper class ruling over a common farming people and below that, a caste of slaves. In the wet season she watched her royal grandmother, Antonieta Varradas Magno, prepare the cotton, and tie it off with palm leaves for dyeing and then in the dry season, dye and weave the finished cloth. Ofelia also learnt patterns from her fiancé’s royal family, the Napoleaos, of Oecussi, the old Portuguese enclave resting inside Dutch, now Indonesian West Timor. As the eldest grandchild of the last Luirai of Ainaro, Ofelia is accorded a certain respect and status in Timor.

    Luirai Dom Alexio Corte Real of Ainaro and WWII hero (Centre) with Local Chiefs and Antonio Magno (far right). Aileu, Portuguese Timor 1938

    Luirai Dom Alexio Corte Real of Ainaro and WWII hero (Centre) with Local Chiefs and Antonio Magno (far right). Aileu, Portuguese Timor 1938

    Luirai Dom Alexio Corte Real of Ainaro and WWII hero (Centre) with Local Chiefs and Antonio Magno (far right). Aileu, Portuguese Timor 1938

    These old royal elites were close to their Portuguese colonisers and, like Ofelia, spoke Portuguese. Led by Prince Henry the Navigator, Portuguese colonialism was rooted in the glorious beginnings of the ‘Age of Discovery’ when the Portuguese set out to explore the rest of the world reclaiming millions of lost native souls for the Catholic faith while growing rich on trade and conquests. Ferdinand Magellan arrived in the Spice Islands of which Timor was part early in the 16th century and Timorese myth characterized them as younger brothers, recalled to Timor by the elders of the mountains to rule in worldly affairs.

    Ofelia Neves Napoleao at work

    Ofelia Neves Napoleao at work

    Ofelia Neves Napoleao buying cloth at Oecussi, 2008

On the day of the bloody Indonesian invasion in 1975 Ofelia was a young woman forced to run zigzag across their courtyard with her little brothers to dodge bullet sprays. Fleeing the Indonesian occupation she followed her Oecussi fiancé to Perth, spending 20 years there trying to help her family in Timor, raising two sons and becoming a skilled craftswoman. After the destruction of the final Indonesian withdrawal in 1999, she returned and found her place helping local women rebuild their lives by running weaving and craft programs. She now works with the Alola Foundation managing the Taibesse Sewing Centre, in a hot and cavernous shed, part of an old Portuguese Army barracks, overseeing 25 staff sewing handbags from the hand-woven cloth. She visits weavers in the countryside and buys cloth according to the principles of fair-trade. In 2008 she prepared this loom for a Melbourne Exhibition to demonstrate the intricacy and skill of the weaving process.

Sara Niner has been researching the life of East Timorese leader Xanana Gusmao for ten years and will publish his biography this year. She visited East Timor as a backpacker in August 1991 and the country and its struggle has become a big part of her life since then. Travelling around the island in 2000-1 searching out sites of significance in Gusmao’s life she found the land beautiful and solemn and beginning to soften after the immense raw devastation of 1999. She also saw how utterly exhausted the people were and the enormity of the task ahead for them and the agonising frustrating slowness of reconstruction. Yet after one trip far into the east of the country she wrote:

I was filled with euphoria and hope after a rich and emotional day of communication with people of vastly different experience that made it seem as if all things might be possible.

She has worked with the textiles and the weavers since that time to put on exhibitions, research and write about the craft and assist with a program of craft development and economic empowerment.

I feel that this half finished weaving embodies the new country of Timor-Leste where the task of rebuilding continues. Hope prevails but is often hard to sustain in the difficult post-war environment where violence and poverty mean hard lives for many women and men. Yet people continue to struggle everyday working to care for their families and communities and revive their culture.

For more information, download this document.

    Sara Niner at work (second from left)

    Sara Niner at work (second from left)

    Sara Niner at work (second from left) with sewing co-op Metinaro IDP camp, 2008

Sara Niner has been researching the life of East Timorese leader Xanana Gusmao for ten years and will publish his biography this year. In 2003 she produced a travelling show Weaving Women’s Stories which promoted East Timorese tais, showing the strength and beauty of this traditional weaving . She now works with the Alola Foundation and is an instructional designer with the Ministry of Finance, Timor-Leste Government (RDTL). She is also completing a research project Strong Cloth in Timor-Leste: Women’s Craft and Development at Monash University.
The loom and products can be seen on display in the World of Small Things, Craft Victoria, 18 June – 27 July 2009.

Afsaneh Modiramani – nomadic life in the city

Afsaneh Modiramani

Afsaneh Modiramani

Afsaneh Modiramani at the loom

I am fascinated by textiles as a whole. I take great pleasure in weave, patterns and the use of colour. It is a privilege to be involved in one of the original expressions of art in human civilization. I seek to create contemporary pieces using those very traditional concepts and images. I have participated in number of local and international textile group exhibitions.
Afsaneh Modiramani – 2009

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Afsaneh Modiramani is an Iranian weaver who draws on traditional motifs from nomadic peoples in her region. She was first introduced to weaving seventeen years ago by Leila Samari, who now teaches loom weaving and textile design at Tehran University of art and runs the Haft Samar gallery. Afsaneh learnt weaving at Pardis University in Isfahan.

Afsaneh’s BA thesis was on equestrian textile accessories used traditionally by Iranian nomadic tribes. She was supervised by Parviz Tanavoli, a renowned Iranian sculptor and author of key reference books, including Shahsavan, Gabbeh, and Bread and Salt. From Parviz, she learnt about the nomad’s use of colour and traditional Iranian motifs. She has incorporated the lion, the evergreen tree and the shrub into her loom-made textiles. The lion which has a long precedent in Iran’s culture and for years was the emblem of Iran’s national flag backed by the sign of sun.

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As part of her BA thesis on ‘horse cover weaving’, Afsaneh travelled to the mountains to find nomadic peoples. She visited Bakhtiyari, Qashqa`i and Turkoman nomads, spread across central, southern and northern Iran. The Persian name for ‘horse cover weaving’ is “Jol” and it is used as a decorative piece placed under the horse saddle. She found that they had changed and the young nomad generation has gradually forgotten the traditional motives and use of colours and has resorted to weaving simple non-traditional pieces.

Afsaneh is also interested in the ‘paisley’ design, which was first woven in Kashmir around 11th century and then was brought to Iran, Russia, Afghanistan and Pakistan. In 15th century Iran, the name was changed from Sanskrit to the Iranian name ‘Shawl’ and eventually ‘Shawl Termeh.’ As Afsaneh says ‘I am very interested in pastry motives, shiny brocades and nomadic motives and using my imagination I combine them with colourful warp and weft which has been chosen very carefully’. Her work features the motif of the lion that is characteristic of the nomadic designs.

For the past eleven years, Afsaneh was working as manager for the design at Mahestan carpet company. She is now devoted full time to her own weaving.

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Afsaneh does not pretend to belong to the class of nomads who are the inspiration for her weaving. Would we look at this differently if it was woven by a Western artist?

Sara Thorn – handmade in Indian cities

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Individual designers have been travelling to traditional craft communities for decades in order to develop product using the skills they so admire. But as more rural villagers move to the city, there is a fear that these skills will vanish. However, there are signs that they are re-appearing in urban workshops and factories. Sara Thorn is a Melbourne-based designer who has discovered ways of working with these new urban-based artisans.

Sara had previously worked with traditional artisans in a number of countries, including Vietnam, Sawarak and India. In 1980s, she established the popular Abyss Studio and Funkessentials labels and Galaxy retail store in Melbourne. In the late 1990s she moved to Paris, where she designed textiles for Christian Lacroix and Michiko Koshino, and Bella Freud in London. Sara was awarded the Winston Churchill Fellowship in 2001 to study jacquard silk weaving at the Lisio Foundation in Italy. As part of the project, Rubelli wove her fabrics. She was Curator of Design at Museum Victoria during 2004. Sara exhibits regularly and her work is held in the collections of the National Gallery of Victoria and the Powerhouse Museum, Australia.

Sara has recently teamed up with architect Piero Paolo Gesualdi to create the new WorldWeave enterprise. WorldWeave embraces the fusion of Ancient and Modern—honouring age old traditions and skills and working with new technologies pioneered by Indian ingenuity to extend traditions in a contemporary way.

Their first collection includes hand embroidered cushions, hand screen printed jute rugs, Australian Merino Virgin wool throws and scarves—all produced in India. Sara took artwork to India, specifically the North of India, Delhi and Amritsar in the Punjab and researched finding makers to work with and execute the ideas. Initially the idea was to focus on hand weaving. However, on spending several months in India researching potential makers, Sara was surprised to find businesses which had merged the lines between artisanal and contemporary traditions. They allowed her to create designs which honour hand traditions but also use state of the art international textile technology. Generally these were small textile, home furnishing businesses already exporting internationally.

Whilst developing the new collection within India’s contemporary textile industry Sara discovered a complex state of affairs where hand skills, new interpretations of traditions, ingenuity and an undying passion for and knowledge of textile production prevailed side by side. This encouraged Sara to work with techniques that were challenging and innovative which allowed her ideas to take forms beyond her original concepts.

Consequently the pieces in the exhibition are products of this ancient modern fusion.

The Acrobat cushion and Mermaid cushion-Ari embroidery on wool felt

Sara Thorn cushion

Sara Thorn cushion

Sara’s designs for these cushions were influenced by Egyptian circus tattoos and Indonesian tattoos. Sara was inspired to translate body decoration into the format of textile that could decorate a space and be useful as well as decorative.

These cushions were embroidered in Delhi by a Kashmir company who have adapted the hand Ari embroidery technique to a machine Ari embroidery stitch done on a sewing machine. Technically the embroidery is neither hand nor automated machine, as each piece is guided by hand and interpreted by the embroiderer through the machine, ensuring each piece is different.

The Acrobat hand silk screen printed jute rug

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This rug extends the Acrobat design into a rug format. Again it combines a combination of hand skills and technology. In the first instance the design was created in Photoshop, blown up and hand silk screen printed onto computer loomed natural jute. The company is based in Delhi, the Indian business centre but the actual rug is produced in the South of India utilising the rug making traditions of the South.

Taken crudely, Sara’s work in India evokes the way factories in China have been used to outsource textile manufacture. Yet for Sara, the conditions in the Indian factories are sympathetic to the handmade that she so values. Are the new urban craft factories able to sustain the handmade traditions that might otherwise whither when isolated in villages? Can we admire the traditional craft skills even when the designs are foreign?

Sara Thorn’s new WorldWeave collection puts her once again at the frontier of world craft design.

Thanks to Sara Thorn for the text and images.

· www.worldweave.com.au

Embroidering survival in Palestinian refugee camps

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Though you might lose the world around you, you still have your hands. The Palestinian refugees have been living in refugee camps for almost sixty years. Women maintain their culture partly through embroidery. Luckily, there’s an organisation that can assist in helping their work find a market. For a modest price, you can obtain not only a beautiful object of use, but also a message of survival.

Inaash was founded and registered in Lebanon since 1969 as a non-governmental organization by a devoted group of Lebanese and Palestinian ladies motivated by their deep concerns for the deprived families in the camps. Over the years Inaash has trained around 2000 women up to a professional level.

Inaash aims to preserve and promote traditional Palestinian embroidery, and create jobs for women in the camps thus helping them to be economically independent. The embroidered items are made by Palestinian refugee women who were expelled from Palestine after Israeli occupation of their country in 1948. They moved to Lebanon and settled in camps. Some of them knew how to embroider: as young daughters they grew up watching their mothers. Others were taught how to embroider by the Inaash art committee.

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Embroidery is a traditional craft practice for Palestinians. Designs are passed on from mother to daughter, each generation changing a little and adding new inspirations. The repertoire is constantly changing and evolving. It varies from place to place in Palestine. Inspiration for patterns came from uniforms, creamies, printed fabrics, architectural motifs and nature.

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Many names of designs come from village life and are symbols of certain concepts, such as eternity and wealth. There are more than 200 floral and geometric motifs passed on from one generation to another. Many objects were embroidered, including cushions, runners, dresses—some for daily wear and others for special occasions like weddings. Embroidery dresses are not only beautiful but also told stories. Women chose what statements their clothes should make. Some lavish embroidered dresses have over 200, 000 cross-stitches.

The art committee of Inaash prepares the design, colors and provides the ladies in the camps with the raw materials needed (canvas, threads, silk). Women are paid by piece, finish the product and sell it. Inaash is hoping to develop its program by cooperation with volunteer fashion designers to bring in new ideas and by expanding the marketing of its products.

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The story of Samar, who embroidered the tea cosy for the World of Small Things:

My name is Samar. I am 50 years old. A mother for four children. I am from Java in Palestine. My family came to south of Lebanon after the Israeli occupied our country in 1948. My grandmother managed to save some of her beautiful traditional embroidered dresses and brought them with her. They were the most valuable things she ever had! I grew up in Rushdie camp watching my mother and her friends. Embroidering is an identity, it is our identity. It is part of my life not only to support my family financially but also feel proud participating in preserving our traditional heritage. In the afternoons, my kids study on their own and I socialize with my friends each having an item to embroider. If and only if those items can speak… they will tell you all the stories of the neighborhood!

I enjoy distributing colors and deciding what to put and where. It needs creativity. The most enjoyable moment is when I look at my finished lovely work! I do it with love that is why it is always wonderful! This tea cozy took me 120 hours (on average) I used DMC threads. My challenge for you is to count the number of cross-stitches! This tea cozy should only be enjoyed by people who appreciated hand work.


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One of Samar’s tea cosies.

Thanks to Souad Amin for the material for this post. Souad works with the Association for the Development of Palestinian Camps (Inaash) where she develops products made by Palestinian refugees living in camps in southern Lebanon.

Rwandan grass meets German silver

Jewellery of natural fibers from Butare, Rwanda, designed and made in cooperation with Martina Dempf, Germany

Jewellery of natural fibers from Butare, Rwanda, designed and made in cooperation with Martina Dempf, Germany

Jewellery of natural fibers from Butare, Rwanda, designed and made in cooperation with Martina Dempf, Germany (photograph by Sebastian Ahlers)

The range of jewellery made by Martina Dempf in collaboration with basket weavers from Rwanda shows an intriguing combination of cultures. The vibrant designs and fine weaving of African grass is housed within elegantly crafted European silver. How did this collaboration come about?

Martina Dempf is a jeweller based in Berlin. She studied jewellery at Pforzheim under Rheinhold Reiling. While still a student, she took half a year to work as a volunteer in a project by Swiss Aid based in Lesotho (Southern Africa) with a jewellery company called the Royal Crown Jewellers.

At the end of her course, Martina travelled with her husband through the whole African continent  (Egypt to South Africa), where she decided to study anthropology. She completed a MA thesis in the Free University of Berlin (‘People Adorned. The Material Culture of the Toposa in Southern Sudan and the Turkana in Northern Kenya’). During the 1980s, she conducted field trips in Sudan, Kenya, Eritrea, Dschibuti and Yemen. Her recent field trips have included Turkana, Kenya (2006) and Toposa, Southern Sudan (2008)

INTASHYA; natural body black pattern; Component: inside bamboo decoration swamp grass

INTASHYA; natural body black pattern; Component: inside bamboo decoration swamp grass

Intashya style basket made by the cooperative of Nyamagabe (COPAF) incorporating natural body black pattern; Component: inside bamboo decoration swamp grass

Martina Dempf, Necklace “In the eye of the snake” 2002, 925 silver, snake bones, length 60 cm,

Martina Dempf, Necklace “In the eye of the snake” 2002, 925 silver, snake bones, length 60 cm,

Martina Dempf, Necklace “In the eye of the snake” 2002, 925 silver, s

During one of these trips in 1986, she visited Rwanda, where she saw the fine grass-woven small baskets and thought they could be used to make jewellery. Traditionally, small baskets were made for the royal court. In 2007, she approached GTZ (German Technical Co-operation) and was invited to work with a group of 40 women in Butare who were organized in a crafts association (Rwanda Art). Martina found a thesis on traditional Rwandan crafts and together with the women, they created a collection of grass jewellery. The women created the grass centre while Martina makes the silver casing. Martina is also working with artisans in Laos and Cambodia.

necklace with 4 pearls round and 3 disks in swamp grass

necklace with 4 pearls round and 3 disks in swamp grass

Necklace with 4 pearls round and 3 disks in swamp grass made by women in Butare

The Rwandan craftswomen continue to produce jewellery designs that emerged from their collaboration with Martina, and Martina also continues to source Rwandan components for her jewellery.

The swamp (papyrus) grass jewellery is made by Dafan Mukantabashwa, Virginie Uwizeyimana, Pelagie Nyirahabineza, Alphonsine Urayeneza and Valentine Nyirakimonyo. The sisal jewellery is made by Anizerata Nyitanteziyaremye, Suzanne Uwitije, Daphrose and Libératha.

As with any collaboration between artisans from rich and poor countries, we are left with many questions. What does jewellery mean to Rwandans? Is it something purely for export? Were there new skills required in adapting basket-weaving to jewellery making? Can the aesthetic worth of Martina’s jewellery be distinguished from its ethical value? Does its ethical value make us predisposed to enjoy her work more or are we wary that our appreciation is predetermined by our politics?

Thanks to jewellers like Martina for opening up these issues, as well as making objects for us to enjoy. And thanks to Rwandan craftswomen for sharing their culture in a medium for us that we consider precious.

You can see the jewellery produced by Martina and the Rwandan woman at the World of Small Things, in Craft Victoria 18 June – 25 July.

Links

· www.martina-dempf.de

· www.rwanda-art.com

Fulidai-dai – another way of thinking about craft

Deb Salvagno works for the East Timor Women’s Association, which runs tours of the Lautem district in East Timor, where traditional weaving flourishes. They also are involved in broader community development including health and education. Here she answers questions about the nature of this exchange between those inside and outside East Timor. It’s particularly interesting to read her reflection on fulidai-dai, the local gift economy that supports the transmission of craft skills.

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What do you think is special about the craft produced in the Lautem district of East Timor?

The predominant craft medium we work with is traditional hand-woven cloth known as tais. All over the island of East Timor, tais are signifiers of ethnicity, and designs are specific to language groups. They contain motifs that are a symbolic dialogue of diverse cultural practices. Even when the motifs cannot be associated to culture, they usually represent something more than decoration. The women we work with live in remote communities in the south east corner of the island; in the flatlands of Los Palos and the densely forested highlands of Iliomar. Los Palos is home to the Fataluku people. Tais woven by weavers in this community utilise futus (ikat) dyeing methods to express their ancestral heritage. Fataluku tais are revered and valued highly in traditional exchange. In Iliomar, weavers from the Makalero people use a combination of floating warp techniques to create rows of a unique and dainty floral motif. Usually presented in white on red or brown back cloth, these motifs have their origins in colonial exchange with the Portuguese who first came to East Timor in the middle ages. Iliomar weavers also utilise futus dyeing methods, however the European inspired floral motif is unique to this area of East Timor. Fataluku tais are more valuable locally than the Iliomar tais as the relationship between these two communities are steeped in ancient pacts and power relations.

Learning about the anthropology of cloth consumption and how the consolidation of social relations and specific cultural values are expressed through tais has been an amazing learning journey for me personally. By the commercial application of the traditional skills used to create tais, the women we work with hope to safeguard their traditions while simultaneously easing the disadvantages of poverty; this area of this craft practice is extraordinary and presents great potential.

Do they need help? What kind and why?

Product design and quality control are two one of the many areas where artisans in East Timor need our assistance. As cloth is created for tradition rather than for markets, product should integrate and balance both the cultural distinctiveness of the cloth and commercial application of the women’s skills. ETWA works with the Cooperative for Tais and Cultural Development (CTCD), which has 86 female members drawn from three weaving collectives in Iliomar and Los Palos. These women come from the poorest and most disadvantaged families in the region; approximately 25% of female members were widowed during the Indonesian occupation, literacy is low and many members have limited access to farmlands. The coop is attempting to deal with the challenges presented by independence- and the challenges are many. The cost of everything is rising; imported cotton has risen by approximately 150% in the past twelve months. Many women are desperate for cash so they underprice their weavings and often they’re losing money as well as hours of back-breaking work. Clearly this is making them poorer, so it’s not surprising that paying for life’s necessities is a major challenge.

While income is generated through weaving tais and transforming it into soft fashion accessories such as bags, as one south-east Asia’s least developed countries, the design and quality of their finished product is low-grade. Developing international markets is vital as the domestic market for weavings is inadequate, however, until product design and quality improves, prospects for increasing market share are minimal. The back strap weaving technique also produces textiles that are as varied and unique as the women who produce them, so improving consistency of output is important. The imported cotton yarn available in East Timor is intended for commercial use and the colour range and quality are substandard. We are hoping that with assistance from the Australian design community, we can support the communities in Iliomar and Los Palos to begin growing high grade cotton locally and thereby replace the need for imported cotton. Through this process, we will increase local cash flows, improve product quality and help artisans to maintain their dyeing traditions as the colours of traditional tais are exquisite. As we take a holistic approach to our work, we are also looking to improve the women’s health and will undertake research in June this year. We’re excited about the possibilities this will open for the weavers.

Can they help us? Can you explain what Fulidai-dai is?

CTCD’s organisational model is based on the cultural notion of Fulidai-dai; a concept unique to the Makalero people of Iliomar. It is a set of cultural norms that govern relationships towards reciprocity, mutual exchange and collective support. The practice of Fulidai-dai encourages cooperation and puts the focus on supporting one another rather than encouraging individualism and competition. Through Fulidai-dai, groups work in reciprocity for the greater good of their community, such as working together in the fields, building houses, looking after children or caring for community members when they are sick. The notion of Fulidai-dai also encourages the passing on of wisdom, so when women share their knowledge of traditional arts with younger women, they are practicing Fulidai-dai; it ensures that cross-generational and cross- gender cooperation and sharing occurs.

By integrating the notion of Fulidai-dai which encourages collective decision making, common ownership, consultation and member participation, CTCD has developed a culturally appropriate business model. Unlike the state and privately-owned cooperatives that operated in East Timor during the Indonesian occupation, the principles of Fulidai-dai are similar to -yet run deeper than- the principles of International cooperatives.

In the west, many people feel we have lost the deep sense of connectedness and community that the people of East Timor share so there is much we can learn. Mutuality, cooperation, patience, loyalty and the essence of friendship are just a few of the ways of being that we can learn from the weavers in Iliomar. And of course the things we learn are equally as important as the gift of support we bring. Acknowledging Fulidai-dai as a legitimate and honourable practice rather than imposing a business model appropriate to our culture, is another way we can support the women to use cultural traditions to build new futures for their communities. If inclined, we can bring these notions back to Australia to help regenerate community here.

Where would you like to see the partnership between them and us continue in the future?

In East Timorese society, the practice of giving and exchanging helps to maintain harmony within communities. If we perceive our work with CTCD in this light, we acknowledge that we both give and receive and we recognize that when two cultures join together in recognition of what each can bring to the other, endless possibilities are created. We aim that our partnerships continue this way on a road towards empowerment for both the East Timorese women we work with and for our members and supporters in Australia. Our annual weaving tour is an example of this. The tour gives participants an opportunity to learn about traditional weaving and dyeing through a series of participatory workshops and East Timorese weavers receive an opportunity to express their craft.

On a more practical level, we aim to work with communities to build a central space for research, design, product development and training and a place of mutual exchange where the International design community can exchange skills with East Timorese artisans in Lautem. We recognize that what we as Australian women bring to the relationship is access to resources and to markets to help give CTCD members access to the things they need to improve their quality of life.

Deb Salvagno has a background in the rag trade and has a BA in Community Development. She has worked in East Timor since 2003 and is a volunteer with East Timor Women Australia.

The Baci ceremony, with strings attached

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I was at the Selling Yarns market in the National Museum, chatting with Valerie Kirk, head of textiles at the Canberra School of Art. I noticed she had some string tied around her wrist. At first I thought it was some practical material related to a workshop she was assisting on the day. But when I inquired about it, she revealed a very different story.

Valerie had been given this string at a ceremony in Laos, where she had been visiting a silk farm. The ceremony is known as Baci, and consists of 32 pieces of string that are tied around the wrist. The purpose of the ceremony is to coax back the 32 spirits (kwan) that animate the body. These are wayward spirits who often need bribes of food, drink and chants to make their way back home.

The Baci ceremony is performed at times when a person is likely to be needing extra support, such as a woman who had recently given birth, or a young child going to a distant school. In Valerie’s case it was the mark of respect for a distinguished visitor.

In a way, it seems similar to the Brazilian braided friendship bracelet, which is usually fastened on the wrist as a mark of solidarity with someone else. In both cases, the bracelet is ideally worn until it falls naturally from the body. This finite time is appropriate to a relationship that cannot endure indefinitely without some further contact.

Jewellery like this tends to come to us from exotic places. It is often without cost, but we value it greatly for the tradition and warmth that it brings. It should make us wonder whether anything like this might emanate from a capitalist society like our own, when most public things tend to be commodified.

But perhaps things are changing. Maybe this is something we can look forward to.

From a hard to a soft place – national identity in metal and fibre

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It’s always enlivening when Damian Skinner comes to town. We gave at talk together at RMIT in the unusual setting of Hoyts Cinema 7 in Melbourne Central. It was disconcerting to see the students and jewellers lying back in their comfy seats as though waiting for a blockbuster.

Damian began with his reading of the ‘Provincial Problem’ – how antipodean jewellers reconcile their desire for recognition in Europe with their artistic drive for independent identity. Damian tries to turn this around by deconstructing the relationship of original and copy, claiming that the original needs the copy to assert its originality. It would be interesting to have a European response to Damian’s argument, or is the absence of north-south dialogue about this part of the very issue?

I chose to use Damian’s visit to consider what Australian jewellery is not. You would think if Australia followed the New Zealand path of Bone, Stone and Shell that it would have made much more of its national stone – the opal. Damian and I spent the rest of the day testing this out with the multitude of opal stores around town. We eventually found an underground jewellery scene (featuring Marcus Davidson and Dan Scurry) that had an entire project taking an Opal-Scope to Lightning Ridge. There’s always an underground if you dig deep enough!

I should reassure you that I didn’t just talk about the absence in Australian jewellery, but also spoke of jewellery with a social conscience as something marking our scene as distinct in the mid-1980s, and the issue of how national identity aligns with Melbourne’s Euro-centrism. But that’s to come in the book.

From a hard to a soft place, I spent the rest of the week in the Selling Yarns conference. This began with a burst of enthusiasm from Alison Page, who promoted the idea of a National Indigenous Design School. Her provocation provided the basis for many conversations to follow, as papers looked at community development and codes of practice. The participants included a strong mix of makers and shakers from all parts of Indigenous Australia. The mood on day one was extremely buoyant and affirming. On day two, that had turned towards potential threats, particularly from shady operators bringing in overseas fakes.

In a way, the conference seemed to offer two paths. One was to commercialise Indigenous craft and design so that it can compete directly with mainstream businesses. The other was to open up communities to cultural tourism – with much consultation.

Selling Yarns 2 managed to meet a great demand for discussion and support of Indigenous craft and design ventures. There was already talk of Selling Yarns 3. Why not? In a way, it seems to fill a space for fibre and textile arts which has lacked the regular conferences of ceramicists, glass artists and jewellers. Though a future challenge is to find a way of broadening the focus to include other media and opportunities for Indigenous men.

Reflecting back on the initial dialogue, it seems that in Australia the non-Indigenous response to Indigenous identity is largely bureaucratic, rather than creative. Perhaps we can think again about the staid image of bureaucracy and see it instead as an adventure in national identity.