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On the other hand: Learnings from Kaivalam, the World Craft Summit, Chennai 2012

Oct 14th, 2012
by Kevin Murray.
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Summary comments presented at Kaivalam Craft Summit, World Crafts Council General Assembly, Chennai 7-10 October 2012

Mrs Usha Krishna opening Kaivalam

Mrs Usha Krishna opening Kaivalam

We’ve just shared three days of talks from extraordinary people from all corners of the world about the state of craft today. What have we learned?

There have been some important proposals for us to consider. The most salient of these has been the development of an Academy of Craft & Design, presented by the Indian Minister of Handicrafts, Anand Sharma. That I could read about this in the Times of India yesterday is testament to the usefulness of the World Crafts Council presidency to the host nation. It is a great credit to the influence of Mrs Usha Krishna that she has been able to leverage the occasion for strategic political announcements of benefit to the craft sector. We hope the academy, when finally built, will prominently feature her portrait in recognition of her resounding contribution to craft.

Looking more behind the scenes, we had advice about the need to know ourselves better, in particular to collect data that could translate our blind passion for craft into cold hard statistics. Ashoke Chatterjee spoke about this in the Indian context, contrasting the excellent business case of the craft export centre against the largely opaque local sector. Simon Ellis offered us some recent models for quantifying craft used by organisations like UNESCO.

Proposals like these will depend partly on factors beyond our control, particularly government budgets. While we need to follow up on these beyond Kaivalam, it is important that we find ways of continuing the conversation started here.

The Sari Production by Daksha Sheth, telling the story of weaving a sari from beginning to end in vigorous dance and music.

The Sari Production by Daksha Sheth, telling the story of weaving a sari from beginning to end in vigorous dance and music.

As I attempted to distil the learning of Kaivalam last night, I was inspired by the wonderful Sari Production that we witnessed, where dancers performed the marvellous process of sari weaving and wearing. They beautifully conveyed the back and forward of the shuttle that is intrinsic to weaving. And so, thinking about our discussions, rather than define our agreements, it seemed more appropriate to identify the dualities that energised our discussions. While here in India, it seems important to take one of its principle learnings, Dharma, as a framework for thinking about the dualities that have been revealed in world craft over the past three days.

While one side tended to dominate in Kaivalam, the other was evoked. Our ongoing discussion aims to weave a dense fabric of understanding moving between the two alternatives.

What is the best market for craft?

On the second day, we heard some very impressive case studies for the support of traditional craft through the luxury market. These included opportunities discussed by Marcella Echavarria for appealing to consumers in New York through clever branding, Umang Hutheesing’s continuing revival of the courtly traditions that thrived under the Maharajas, Rolf von Buerren’s tribue to the vision of the Queen of Thailand in sponsoring her country’s craft, and the marvellous tale of Jean François Lesage’s work in servicing the restoration of European aristocratic treasures through Chennai craftsmanship

There is no doubt that royalty has played a positive role in the development of craft excellence and exquisite technical skill. As craft becomes increasingly rare, it also gains in exclusive value. And if we argue that wages for artisans need to increase, we should look to the wealthy who are the ones that can afford to pay the higher prices. It seems a good bet.

But then on the other hand, as Ms Souad Amin from Lebanon asked, is craft just for the elite? Actually, the dominant story of craft invoked on the first day was that of Gandhi, who saw spinning as a spiritual exercise for the strengthening of the Indian nation after British rule. So where was the spirit of the hand-spun khadi cloth today—craft for every person and every day? In Kaivalam, this found its expression largely in the corporate sector. We heard from Janet Nkubana about how she has been able to create a craft industry for her fellow Rwandan women supplying the Wal-Mart chain in the United States. We had Ratna Krishnakumar’s beautiful presentation of saris made by the Pochampalli weavers, now providing uniforms for the Taj Hotels. For those who are able and interested to make a regular supply of craft products, there are many new opportunities to connect with corporate outlets.

On the one hand, luxury boutiques. And on the other hand, supermarkets. Both alternatives exist very much within the existing market system. Maybe there’s also a space for craft that connects people more directly than through the market. We need to think more about the egalitarian role of craft, in particular how to reconcile the DIY movement with world craft.

How can countries partner together?

As has been evident thus far, the World Crafts Council is a multifaceted forum for bringing together many different cultures of the world.

Apart from sharing a solidarity through our own individual craft traditions, the question was raised of how we can collaborate together as partners. This is particularly evident in the paper about India-Africa partnerships at NID given by Frances Potter and Shimul Vyas. As Frances said, she had presumed that all possibilities came from the north, but she just woke up one morning and thought of India. I wonder what she dreamt of during the night.

The Zimbabwe-India partnership is a perfect example of the kind of south-south cooperation that is growing so strongly now, most evident in the rise of the BRICS trading block. Of course, it is particularly strong right here in the audience of the General Assembly, where we see a growing proportion of countries from the global South. We are at the crest of the tide of history, particularly the Asian Century.

But we should never forget the North. As Adelia Borges reminded us, north-south relations can sometimes be a monologue. Northern designers can often commission craftspersons with little dialogue over the final product. But dialogue goes both ways, and we should also consider the North as an essential part of the World Crafts Council conversation. After all, it’s where the modern craft story began, with the Arts & Crafts Movement whose ideas expressed by William Morris and John Ruskin helped inspire the craft revivals in India, Japan and beyond. Today we see such innovative design emerging from countries like the Netherlands, Norway and the UK. We certainly witnessed this in Christa Meindersma’s presentation of works supported by the Prince Claus fund in the Netherlands.

On the one hand we have the South with its energy and vibrant traditions, and on the other we have the North with its modernist professionalism and institutions. Getting our two worlds to talk to each other with equal respect is a major challenge for world craft.

Kenya Hara answering the question about the space for craft

Kenya Hara answering the question about the space for craft

What is the space of craft?

One of the very surprising and thrilling discussions followed the talk by the Mooji designer, Kenya Hara. You’ll recall, he spoke about the aesthetic of emptiness and its role in design. Hara framed the place of emptiness in Japanese culture as an invitation to the gods. He contrasted this to way decoration on objects operates as an expression of power.

But then the Kuwaiti scholar Dr Ghada pointed out that in the Islamic tradition the purpose of decoration is to keep the devil out. From one end of Asia to the other we witnessed a clash of opposites—gods and devils, emptiness and fullness. Where might they meet?

When pressed on this matter, Hara observed that the very plainness of Mooji design offers a place for the crafted object to be more clearly apprehended. A simple table provides the perfect stage for a finely worked piece of craft.

This was an intriguing model for the role of design in craft: design makes a space for craft to express itself. Given the business and noise of contemporary life, making this space, what Heidegger calls the ‘clearing’, is particularly important.

On the one hand the emptiness of design, but on the other hand, the fullness of craft. As a curator, I find this duality particularly important.

How do we protect craft?

Then yesterday, we had an especially intense series of papers about Geographical Indicators. Here we learnt about the role of the law in protecting our craft knowledge. Geographic Indicators ensure that a community which has been the custodian of a particular craft tradition will be the exclusive owners of that intellectual property. These Geographical Indicators are an important addition to the legal arsenal alongside copyright, patents and traditional knowledge.

But there is also the parallel effort to protect craft from imitation and knock offs, which doesn’t rely on lawyers or courts—marketing. Today craft organisations organisations can develop websites that include images of their artisans, perhaps even videos, so the ethical consumer can feel more confident about their authenticity. More practically, this information offers a story that they can then use when sharing their purchase with others or directly when presenting it as a gift.

So we have two quite different approaches to protecting the authenticity of craft. In one we invest in the legal system, enforced by fines. And in the other, we engage in marketing, creating value in our brand. What’s it to be—the stick or the carrot?

To an extent, these alternative paths overlap the rich and poor duality. The ethical consumer tends to be a wealthier person, looking for a good story rather than just something that ticks the box. On the other hand, the lower end price sensitive market will not worry so much about authenticity In this case, we need more pre-emptive legal powers. I think there is still more potential in consumer-led protection. The customer forums that are increasingly prominent in the Internet offer greater scope for crowd-sourced whistleblowing.

What is the future for craft?

Clearly we cannot sum up Kaivalam without acknowledging the key question. ‘The future is handmade’ strikes a defiant tone. We make a bold challenge to the technological idea of progress which champions development as the replacement of human drudgery by ever more efficient machines. According to the technocrats, we are better off entrusting our world in machines, devices, clouds, rather than our own hands. It does seem unfortunately the default position of governments, but also sadly an increasingly popular attitude amongst many in the next generation.

Rather than succumb to defeatism, we take a stand. The future is handmade presumes we can leapfrog this purely technological idea of progress by anticipating a time when we realise that technology cannot answer our basic needs.

One of the quite deep aspects of Kaivalam was the way it reconfigured our understanding of time, particularly craft time. I liked the way Syeda Hameed quoted Rumi, including the line: ‘constant slow movement teaches us to keep working like a small creek that stays clear’. It’s not so much the linear flow of water, but its constant motion that is important.

There were many comments not just about the speed of progress, but also the narrowing of our time frame. Rolf von Buerren noted that the rhythm of life in the US is around five minutes, or the time between advertising breaks. Indeed, we are now witnessing an election campaign in the United States where the choice of leader in the largest world economy can be determined by a few minutes on the television screen. But more profoundly, we’re all still reeling from the devastation to our global economy caused by the intensification of short term profit by financial traders.

Craft is not so much about the past or the future, as what connects them together. As Octavio Paz wrote in that landmark 1974 World Craft Council publication In Praise of Hands, ‘The modern artist has set out to conquer eternity, and the designer to conquer the future; the craftsman allows himself to be conquered by time.’ At its core here is an acceptance of time, linking past and future.

Arguably the most treasured consumer item at the moment is the Apple iPhone 5. It has truly miraculous powers and sports deviously clever apps. But how long will its value last? Will it ever be an heirloom? The value of these gadgets starts declining from the moment we purchase them. It’s the handmade object that we will entrust with our long term future.

On the one hand our tomorrow, on the other our children’s tomorrow. Craft stretches time. And as we need to face up to long-term issues like climate change, this role is increasingly important.

Four year journey

We may have started under the cloud of the GFC, but we’ve shared remarkable times together. I’ll never forget during Abhushan, listening to Ms Azza Fahmy from Egypt, on the morning the news broke about the change of leadership, how we could all share with her that solidarity that remains between those involved in craft, despite the upheavals that affect our world.

We’ve shared now in Kaivalam a great testament to the vibrancy of the ‘World’ Crafts Council. Beyond the formal presentations, we’ve had the privilege to meet people from 39 different countries, all brought together through a common interest in making beautiful objects that have a lasting place in our world.

Part of living in the world involves accepting that not everyone is the same. Rather than dilute our identity, diversity makes it stronger. There are at least two sides to the questions we’ve been considering over the past three days. Like the shuttle that moves across the loom, the play of opposites builds a stronger understanding of where we are.

On the one hand, and on the other. What do we do? Let’s put them together and congratulate Mrs Usha Krishna for leading us through the past four years.

Sitting at the feast of colourful craft

Jan 8th, 2012
by Kevin Murray.
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I’ve been enjoying a recent issue of Hand/Eye, which lives up to its normal high standards of journalism and design. Number 06 is  a particularly broad-ranging issue, covering craft in West & North Africa, South-East Asia, India, Brazil  and Australia. Each contributes to a broad spectrum of colours, which gives this issue an especially sumptuous feel.

It’s hard to say this, but the photography is almost too good. The scenes and saturated hues are so intense that it throws the reader back into role of spectator, awed by the glorious colour. This is perfect as a celebration of craft, but it doesn’t really allow for any critical engagement. I feel myself left asking, as a typical self-castigating liberal, what are the terms of engagement between me and the subjects on these the pages? It feels like they’re the actors and I’m the audience, which is familiar in fashion or cinema. But I wonder if there are more active forms of engagement available in crafts.

As always, I highly recommend reading Hand/Eye. There’s been nothing like it in terms of a forum for the richness of global craft culture. But this particular sumptuous feast may require a digestive.

Hand/Eye coordination in world craft

Sep 4th, 2011
by Kevin Murray.
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I must say, I am a devoted follower of Hand/Eye. Their blog is an essential part of my reading diet, and I have just finished reading the Summer issue of the print magazine. The stories provide a powerful testament of the passions evoked by traditional craft practices. And the images offer an extraordinary feast of colour and texture. It is able to capture a broad range of craft development projects from across the world, even including countries from the minority world, like the USA.

It is sometimes uneasy reading. The situation with traditional craft is often quite fragile – see the article about what happened to embroidery during the Taliban regime, and how Kandahar Treasures is trying to restore it. Craft practice, like languages and biological species, seem under thread by a homogenising world. If nothing else, Hand/Eye demonstrates the richness that is being lost as we become more urbanised and digitised.

Generally, the magazine advocates for the preservation of craft tradition through product development – ‘design as a tool for development and income generation.’ This does leave many questions to be answered:

  • What happens when it is the artisans themselves who want to abandon their craft?
  • How does the commodification of craft for foreign markets affect the meaning of craft traditions?
  • If external designers are involved in product development, what are the terms of their collaboration?
  • How can traditional craft adapt to the changing patterns of consumption, particularly the move towards more virtual goods, such as apps and Facebook?

These are the kinds of questions that academics often like posing, as a critique of naive liberalism. I have great admiration for those who dedicate their lives to sustain and celebrate distinctive ways in which we make beauty from our world. But to extend the reach of this work, it seems important that we do find a safe place to ask the hard questions. The Sangam Project is one way of attempt to do this.

Authentic punk, handmade with attitude in Indonesia

Mar 7th, 2010
by Kevin Murray.
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Danius Kesminas embodies some of the wilder energies of the Australian cultural scene. The tireless Melbourne artist is very much embedded in the art world – his exhibitions in a cutting edge commercial art gallery quote from modernist art history. Yet Kesminas’ work is far from pretentious: his many projects set about attacking art’s elitism by popularising its most privileged secrets. His weapon of choice is rock music, particularly Punk. His band Histrionics perform songs about revered contemporary artists, like the Thai relational artist Rirkrit Tiravanija who transforms galleries into restaurants. The lyrics follow a familiar tune: ‘I don’t like Rirkrit, no, no / I love him, yeah /I don’t like your bean curd / Don’t mean no disrespect / I don’t like your tofu / If this dish is an art object.’

Kesminas shares a Lithuanian background with the founder of the Fluxus movement, George Maciunas. He acknowledges Fluxus in the project Vodka Sans Frontières, which traces an illegal vodka pipeline that travelled under Maciunas’ house in Vilnius. But in a different way, Kesminas’ work also seems quite at home in an egalitarian country like Australia, where the elitist authority of global visual arts has relatively little purchase.

So we might be surprised to learn that Kesminas has commissioned work from traditional Indonesian artisans. This would seem exactly like the kind of naive ‘politically correct’ art world project he would make the target of his satire. Despite its seeming worthiness, Kesminas has been able to develop an anarchic mode of collaboration which challenges our understanding of what it is to work with artisans.

At the end of 2005, Kesminas arrived in Jogjakarta for a three month Asialink residency. His only preparation for the new culture was reading a book, The Politics of Indonesia, by Damien Kingsbury. It was a dense read, filled with acronyms. Despite their inscrutability, these acronyms would later end up being an important creative resource.

Soon after he arrived, Kesminas started hanging out at the local art school. There he found a familiar scene of young rebels playing aggressive rock music. So he decided to form a band of his own and went about recruiting musicians, with immediate success. As Kesminas didn’t speak any Indonesian, they created lyrics together that were inspired by the acronyms he had read. Fortuitously, this method corresponded with a local word game plesatan, which sends up official language. For example, the song TNI is based on the acronym that stands for Tentara Nasional Indonesia (Indonesian National Military) but which is sung as Tikyan Ning Idab-Idabi (Poor but Adorable). In a similar vein, the band adopted the title Punkasila, which is drawn from the concept pancasila, the official five ideological tenets of Indonesian nationalism.

Danius Kesminas with locals celebrating the carving of the Punkasila emblem (photograph supplied by artist)

Danius Kesminas with locals celebrating the carving of the Punkasila emblem (photograph supplied by artist)

Danius Kesminas with locals celebrating the carving of the Punkasila emblem (photograph supplied by artist)

Local involvement in Punkasila expanded rapidly. A batik artist produced the band uniform in military camouflage. A wood artisan carved elaborate machine-gun electric guitars from mahogany. Others produced t-shirts, stickers, videos, etc. Much of this was well beyond Kesminas’ control, but this was exactly as he wanted it – ‘you’re a catalyst lighting this wick.’

Like many foreign artists, Kesminas enjoyed the freedom to make art in Indonesia. He contrasted this with the situation in a country like Australia where everything has to be paid for – ‘over there it’s different. You just do things because you do them.’

Artisan designing machine gun guitar with skeptical mother (photograph supplied by artist)

Artisan designing machine gun guitar with skeptical mother (photograph supplied by artist)

Artisan designing machine gun guitar with skeptical mother (photograph supplied by artist)

Given the role of the military in Indonesian life, Kesminas was afraid their provocative repertoire would endanger his collaborators. He claimed that he ‘always had to defer to them for limits. We never did anything they didn’t want to do.’ Yet at the same time, he recognised that his role as an outsider was critical: ‘There was a nice unspoken agreement. I gave them a kind of cover, as a naïve Westerner.’ It’s hard to tell who is using who in this situation. Even though punk is an identifiably Western popular movement, Kesminas associates it more broadly with a DIY principle of cultural independence. Like the paraphernalia that was locally made for Punkasila, it represents self-sufficiency in culture and defies a reliance on imported readymade products.

For Kesminas, the most significant complaint against Punkasila came from ‘NGO do-gooder missionary types’ who thought he was showing disrespect for Indonesian culture. Kesminas would claim that he actually more respectful by following the authentically carnivalesque nature of Indonesian street culture. According to this line, what we normally associate with Indonesian traditions, such as Wayang, is just a cultural commodity sustained for Western tourists. The real life is on the street.

There’s plenty to suspect Kesminas of. ‘So he likes the fact that they don’t have to be paid! But, hey, doesn’t he end up marketing their product in his exhibitions back in Australia?’ This line of interrogation seems to be missing the point, and indeed play into the very stereotype of political correctness that Kesminas’ satirises. As far as I know, the work based on Punkasila has not sold. In the meantime, Kesminas raised money for his fellow band members to participate in the Havana Biennale, which profiled them on an international stage. Sure, it all contributes to his cultural capital, but compared to other artists who use artisans like Jeff Koons, it’s relatively high on the scale of collaboration.

Indeed, there’s something quite refreshing about Punkasila. It makes us re-consider whether work with artisans must only be in forms that they are familiar with. It adds a pinch salt to our sanctimony and a dash of chili in our philanthropy.

Danius Kesminas with fellow Punkasila band members in Havana, Cuba (supplied by artist)

Danius Kesminas with fellow Punkasila band members in Havana, Cuba (supplied by artist)

Danius Kesminas with fellow Punkasila band members in Havana, Cuba (supplied by artist)

But in the long run, there may be problems. While an important detour from cultural conservatism, we need to admit a certain guilty pleasure in Punkasila. It shows an image of Indonesian society that reflects back our familiar ideology of Western individualism. In the spirit of good ol’ rock’n roll, we have a natural tendency to champion those individuals who defy authority. We join them in solidarity against local leaders – the patriarchs, warlords and ‘tin pot dictators’.

But who are these foot solders really fighting for in the long term? We need to think of the broader context. Countries like Indonesia face significant pressures from overseas companies to ‘open up’ for ‘development’. So why should the polygamous village elder stop you from selling your land to Monsanto? Who’s the fat old chief to say you can’t sign away royalties for your village’s traditional chant? While rock’n roll is great for breaking things down, such as a military regime, it’s not disposed to building new structures.

Thank god that Kesminas has finally let the cat out of the bag. But the mice better to get organised.

UNESCO workshop for Artisans and Designers – who owns culture?

Nov 9th, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
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The UNESCO Workshop for Artisans and Designers in Santiago brought together participants from Uruguay, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Paraguay, Colombia and Brazil. For three days, we discussed the ethics of the relationship between those who make craft products and those who develop them for markets. It was a fascinating workshop for many reasons.

First, it was interesting to witness the manner in which people of diverse views come together like this in Latin America. It was very smoothly and warmly facilitated by Rafael del Campo, who used a ‘world café’ method to ensure everyone had a chance to contribute to discussions. Celina Rodriquez from Universidad Catolica helped ensure the program had a warm welcome from local artisan communities. Generally, the event was framed as a celebration of the way artisans and designers can complement each other. The participating artisans spoke very positively about the way designers enabled their careers to develop. The Chilean wood carver Hector Bascuñan described the designer that he collaborated with as an ‘angel’. But there was still plenty of opportunity to consider the tensions that exist in this relationship.

One burning issue was the ownership of intellectual property. I contributed to this inadvertedly by presenting the example of Better World Arts, the Australian organisation that brokers designs from the Kaltjiti community in the desert centre with artisans in the Kashmir and Peru, who translate their designs into rugs and jewellery. This was quite a surprising arrangement to those present. It challenged the implicit assumption that artisans can properly only make works that draw from their own culture. Much had to be explained about the Australian scene, how we lack those that might be called traditional artisans, and how it is difficult for indigenous communities to meet the demand for craft products within their own resources. It helped stimulate some very interesting discussions.

There were many who saw transnational craft as a way of the future. In the global craft ecology, continents like Latin America have the potential to provide the handmade dimension to various foreign creative industries, like product development and fashion – handbags handwoven in Bolivia, for example. But there are serious risks. In attaching the handmade component as an exotic feature, do we trivialise craft? Shouldn’t we consider craft as a whole, as the expression of culture in its own terms? But then if Bolivian artisans decide to accept a commission like this in order to simply survive, can anyone stop them?

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I believe in the power of cultural exogamy. There are many examples of cultural exchange that strengthen tradition. Tango was only really acknowledged in Argentina once it was ‘discovered’ in Paris. It has since been adopted by cultures all around the world, with its own distinctive Scandinavian, Slavic and Japanese versions. Despite this diffusion, Buenos Aires is still revered as the home of tango.

Can the same occur in craft? There are powerful examples, like ikat weaving, raku ceramics, Venetian glass, where its adoption by other cultures has strengthened the status of its point of origin. Seeing our own cultural techniques applied in foreign contexts helps not only demonstrate their potency, but also helps identify what is distinctive to ourselves. Seeing how Australians apply raku techniques shows its potency as an expression of place but also reveals by contrast what is different about the original Japanese version

The critical issue seems to be not one of contamination, but of commodification. Capitalist production does tend to appropriate cultural signs, decontextualise them, and then sell them for the biggest profit. When purchasing products, consumers are encouraged to consider brand identity rather than its point of origin. Given the powerful capitalist neighbour to the north, it is natural you can find in Latin America a defensive position towards cultural appropriation. Rightly so. Contrast the culture of Coca Cola with its indigenous origins in the Andes. But maybe there are other kinds of partnerships beyond cultural predation.

It is here where the issue of moral rights for producers seems to play a potentially important role. So often products that feature artisan origins fail to identify exactly who made the product. We have a system of moral rights for creators to ensure that when works of art or design are copied that the author is attributed. But this doesn’t exist for producers, even if their role is critical in development.

This is not a simple issue, as was made evident during the workshop. Two participants objected to the principle of individual attribution. The Brazilian designer José Alberto Nemer from Piracema Design Laboratory presented a notion of development as a romantic engagement with place which goes beyond self-conscious individual creativity. Piraceme is a native Tupi word to describe the phenomenon when fish return to their point of origin in order to spawn. This spirit of place should belong to no one individual. For different reasons, Pablo Bonaparte from the National Market of Traditional Artisans in Argentina also argued against individual ownership. For him, craft traditions are a communal entity and any attempt to sell this on the open market for individual gain would be a kind of betrayal.

While these were not the views of the majority, they were important points to consider. For Australians, this concept of collective ownership resonates with our acknowledgement that indigenous culture is a matter of custodianship. No one individual owns the designs or knowledge of Aboriginal communities. But there is a difference. Within limits, we also acknowledge the freedom of any individual indigenous artist to employ their designs as they see fit – even if woven in another country. Any attempt to resist that on the grounds of heritage would seem patriarchal, motivated more by whitefella romance that indigenous realities.

The UNESCO representative Frederic Vacheron reflected on this tension between communal heritage and individual creativity. Protection exists for both cultural heritage and individual copyright, but they can sometimes be in opposition to each other. Vacheron was confident that they could eventually be aligned, but it would take more than one workshop to do so.

In his concluding comments, Vacheron said that it was important to consider patrimony a living phenomenon, not something that needs to be isolated from the world for its survival. He said it was important to look at what was happening in Australia as an example of how traditional craft practices might find new opportunities in a globalised world. Likewise, we in Australia need to consider the Latin American views if we are to draw on their traditions to revitalise our own culture.

Along with many nations in the ‘collective west’, Australia is on a return journey back from dizzy heights of globalisation to its own piece of solid ground. As our craft skills decline, we become more dependent on artisans in other countries to provide the handmade quality that helps realise the human dimension in our designs. But can we outsource craft in the same way we have our shirts sewn anonymously in China? For the handmade to have meaning it needs a real connection with its maker. We need to know something about who made it, where their skill comes from, what they benefit in making it, and how they would like us to care for their result.

In getting to know artisans better, we can also discover something about ourselves too. What is the status of indigenous culture in their politics? How do they deal with the challenges of climate change? In what way do they respond to the cultural dominance of the north?

I certainly got to know the Latin American journey(s) a little better after this workshop. The status of being a ‘third world’ creates a sense of vulnerability to the more powerful economies particularly to the north. To northern economies, local cultural traditions are often seen as signs of backwardness. Many in Latin America thus try to present an alternative measure of value. For them, a sense of one’s own culture is more precious than the flows of capital that course through world markets. An organisations like UNESCO, which recognise the value of cultural diversity, are held in particularly high regard here. Nevertheless, financial poverty brings its own problems. So how can culture be aligned with the needs of the market without destroying its value?

It’s plain that we need to work together if we are to use globalisation as a force for good, not evil. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau said, ‘If you cannot prevent your enemies from swallowing you, at least you can prevent them from digesting you.’  So it is with cultural appropriation. It will happen. It has the capacity to aerate and enrich our cultural traditions. But we need to be prepared to prevent it also dissolving embodied cultural meanings into mere products for consumption. The workshop was a very encouraging first step in this preparation, but there is much work ahead.

We need now to invite other voices into this conversation, particularly from Africa and Asia. UNESCO is in the unique position to carry this dialogue further. But there are others, like the World Craft Council and International Design Alliance (particularly the Indigo project), who can play an important role. The workshop next month in Fiji is another step towards extending this dialogue. Throughout this process, the development of an international code of practice for craft-design collaborations is one concrete way to ensure we keep talking with each other.

Seamstresses unbound

Oct 2nd, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
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The recent UNESCO World Forum on Culture and Creative Industries celebrated the link between fashion and craft practice. A consistent theme was the dependence of fashion designers on good artisans. But here lies the problem.

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On the opening day, the Artistic Director for Linvin, Alber Elbaz confessed that he was worried that his specialised workers were getting old and there was no one to replace them. His otherwise enchanting talk left this question dangling: ‘Who would want to be a seamstress these days?’ Good question.

So how can these positions attract a new generation? One possibility is to make them less anonymous. They could be featured in the company’s website and perhaps even mentioned on the label. It was suggested that this might be in the form of ‘the credits at the end of the film’. Maybe, but what about at the beginning of the film, where we would normally find the names of leading actors after the director?

An alternative strategy suggested by Francoise Riviere at the end of the forum was to offer scholarships for craft practice. Both would be nice.

Elbaz also emphasised the importance of stories in design. This loomed as one of the principal challenges for craft today – to find ways of conveying its meaning in an engaging manner. This would a useful workshop, don’t you think – the narrative basis for craft?

Paula Moreno speaking at UNESCO World Forum

Paula Moreno speaking at UNESCO World Forum

In the end, the forum participants seemed particularly inspired by the Colombian Minister of Culture, Paula Moreno. Moreno argued for recognition for the South, not as an exotic attraction, but as equal. Her call that ‘culture is a history of the future’ was quoted many times by the end of the forum.

So, the forum represented a unique platform for crafts on the world stage. The challenge now is to use this momentum to launch programs that can address issues like anonymity, narrative and sustainable links to industry. We certainly recognise that our future needs the history of craft. Good design must be well-made. We need to acknowledge those whose skills make things possible.

Craft Without Borders – waking up together

Jun 25th, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
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According to Plutarch, "All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own."  So it seems in the sphere of world craft. Many of us have our own personal engagement with a craft community or tradition in a foreign land, but the experience is something we can share with others facing similar cultural divides.

The ‘Democracy at the Bench’ workshop last Saturday brought together an amazing group of people, each working in interesting ways across the global divide.

Each brought to the table a particular calling to work with those whose cultures are borne from adversity, ranging from Bolivian weavers to bark artists from the PNG highlands.

That calling seemed both a blessing and a curse. It offered great potential as both a way of supporting a fragile craft and a means of enlivening a commodified Western culture. But it also was based on an asymmetry between the agency of the outsider and the vulnerability of the group. How to change this missionary relationship to one that is more collaborative?

Much of the discussion ranged over the conflict between tradition versus aspiration. How do you balance the need to preserve culture with the desire to be part of the modern world? There well may be no answer to this, but rather a matter of negotiation specific to each case. In which case, we have much to learn from each other’s experience.

In response to this need to share experience in working with other cultures, an online group has been established titled Craft Without Borders. This title reflects other networks involving professions such as medicine and architecture, which support work in the wider world. But this group in particular has the potential to be quite reflective in understanding the power relations at work.

This group has been established as part of a broader Craft Talk network. This is a medium for sharing information particularly suited to those working in craft across the South. It offers a unique opportunity for developing a lateral craft dialogue between those in Africa, Asia, Latin America and Oceania. You can see already that there has begun a fascinating dialogue that compares the meaning of ‘craft’ in Anglophone countries with ‘artesanias’ in Latin America.

To be part of this, you need to create a profile for yourself, which ideally includes an image and information about what you do. Then you can engage in discussions and post images. It’s a little like Facebook, but it is quarantined from the advertising and distractions you find in other social networks.

What emerges from this Craft Talk network will largely depend on what we put into it. It’s a good place for notices of conferences, calls for expressions of interest, curatorial inquiries or rallying calls for action in the craft scene.

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If you’re a reader of Craft Unbound, then might enjoy waking up together with others like you at Craft Talk – www.crafttalk.ning.com

Carole Douglas – a new tradition for trash in Kachchh

Jun 11th, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
2 comments

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.

After the Missionaries events

Jun 3rd, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
No comments yet

These events relate to the ‘After the Missionaries’ issue of Artlink, which includes articles about how artists are negotiating their paths through a more reciprocal world. For more information go here.

10 June FORUM Has the world changed?

  • Has the Kyoto Protocol changed how rich and poor countries relate to each other?
  • Is Australia moving away from the Anglosphere?
  • Is the Global Financial Crisis a time to look at alternative economic models?
  • Is ethical the new black?
  • Have artists changed in how they relate to the world around them?

You are invited to join a discussion in real time with live people in the same space. These people will include contributors to the ‘After the Missionaries’ issue of Artlink. With luck, there will also be some copies, hot of the press.

TIME: 6.00 -8.00 pm Wednesday 10 June
PLACE: Domain House, Birdwood Drive, Royal Botanic Gardens, Melbourne
For more information, click here. To submit a question, email here. This event itself occurs in the context of Evolution – the Festival and the Amnesty of Ideas program of Southern Perspectives.

18 June OPENING World of Small Things: An exhibition of craft diplomacy
Craft Victoria, 31 Flinders Lane, Melbourne, opening 18 June 6-8, show open until 25 July
To be opened by Soumitri Varadarajan, Associate Professor of Industrial Design RMIT

20 June LAUNCH After the Missionaries issue of Artlink
The ‘After the Missionaries’ issue of Artlink will be formally launched at Craft Victoria, Saturday 20 June 4pm, by Dr Connie Zheng, senior lecturer in management at RMIT and expert in how Chinese do business. This will be preceded by a forum on working with traditional artisans (for more details, see here).

27 August THEREAFTER After ‘After the Missionaries’
There will be an opportunity to reflect on the questions raised by After the Missionaries at the Institute of Postcolonial Studies, 78-80 Curzon Street North Melbourne.

Copies of Artlink will be on sale from 15 June.

Rwandan grass meets German silver

May 13th, 2009
by Kevin Murray.
3 comments
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

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