Reminiscing through the retro clothes of the 1971 Boy Friend film

When we visited the Fashion and Textile Museum to see The Biba Story I was pleased to find a smaller exhibition dedicated to The Boy Friend which included memorabilia and more from the 1971 film by Ken Russell, featuring Twiggy. Of course I’m way too young to remember the film - I was four in 1971 - but much later in 1982 The Boy Friend was our senior school production, so it holds a special memory for me. I didn’t have a big part in our production, but like many of us in the chorus I knew the words to the majority of the songs, and the scenes.

And my biggest claim to fame for the school production? I provided the ‘peasant-style dress’ which Hortense wore in one of the scenes. It came from C&A and I wish it was a dress I’d kept, though of course 1982 was a long time ago, and well, I’m not sure I’m the same size today as I was then!

But you know, memories and all that.

But anyway, back to the exhibition. I knew that Twiggy was in the film, and I knew it was directed by Ken Russell. I didn’t know that his wife Shirley Russell was responsible for the costume design, nor that the fashion at the time was obsessed with a nostalgic glamour, with a camp twinkle in its eye. But I do now.

It was fantastic to see the Pierette and Pierot sketches, they became a big thing in the eighties, with the designs on everything from clothing to bedding, stationery, stickers and more. I had a duvet cover and pillowcase, I remember and I still have a ring binder folder adorned with the design - and I’m sure there was more.

Twiggy’s Pierette dress was remade in her size for the film from an original 1920s costume in Shirley’s collection; these were favourite character costumes for fancy dress which was popular in the 1920s.

One of the exhibition boards said that Shirley’s hunt for original clothing became an all consuming occupation which the whole family were involved in, and she became known as ‘second-hand Rose’ for dressing her five children in vintage clothes, and this at a time when second-hand goods were still tainted with the stigma of poverty, it was a radical fashion statement.

The striped shirt and skirt by Biba in the photo above was from Shirley’s personal wardrobe and fitted perfectly with the 1930’s clothing, which no doubt is the (or one of) the connections for this being shown alongside the Biba Story.

Some of the designs above wouldn’t look out of place in today’s high street - the chevron jumper and 1920s patterned two piece above especially. It was great to reminisce about our senior school production, but I think it’ll be a while before the drop waisted dress, and hopefully the Pierette/Pierot costumes reappear - though never say never, all fashion seems to come around again at some point…

Previewing Unearthed: The Power of Gardening at the British Library

* I was invited to the press preview of Unearthed: The Power of Gardening a day before it opened to the public, there was no obligation to share this on my blog (but I am) and as usual my views and opinions are very much my own.

An exhibition about gardening at the British Library, that alone had my interest piqued - and while I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, what I did see went way beyond any expectations I had. I travelled down to London on a much earlier train than usual, ready to be there for the 10am start time. Luckily it was another glorious day, and the train was on time so I had some time basking in the morning busyness outside Kings Cross station, without needing to actually be part of the busyness myself.

The exhibition explores the transformative, enriching and sometimes radical power of gardening in Britain with historic manuscripts - some on display for the first time - and artefacts and artwork alongside contemporary material with captivating and immersive video throughout the four sections of the exhibition. It also looks at the impact of gardening on people, communities and the environment and the exhibition space is transformed to feel more like a garden shed than art gallery, but done in a way that’s in keeping with and enhances the story that unfolds through its four sections.

Gardening to nurture

Following the simple premise that if we care for our gardens, then they will care for us. Whether that’s growing food or herbal medicines, or simply as many gardeners have long known, the benefits of gardening for our mental health, simply put gardening is good for us.

It seems though we’ve long wanted to know more about gardening. This first printed gardening manual from 1564 is from a time when gardening developed into a recognised profession, so tools and techniques advanced and gardeners grew a wider variety of plants than ever before. This book was aimed at ‘ordinary’ gardeners explains how to dress, sow and set a garden.

The first printed gardening manual dates back to 1564

THOMAS HILL, A MOST BRIEFE AND PLEASAUNTE TREATISE, LONDON, 1564

The annotated plan, for John Eveyln’s garden at Sayes Court in London, shows the many kinds of tree that were available to the wealthy gardening - 12 varieties of cherry tree, 21 varieties of dwarf pear tree. The notes also show that he planted Golden Pippin apples, damsons, apricots and vines against the garden walls, a plan he devised after a severe winter in 1683-4 which destroyed many of his plants.

PLAN BY JOHN EVELYN OF PART OF THE GARDEN AT SAYES COURT, LONDON, 1685

There’s a series of short films showing throughout the space, produced in collaboration with Coco Collective, which explore the links between food growing and wellbeing practices, and consider gardens as a way to reclaim space and build community. The final film examines the legacies of empire on plant cultivation and the importance of embracing ancestral knowledge - a subject which I’d never considered before. All of the films though are powerful and its worth spending the time to watch them the whole way through.

Gardening together

We know that gardening can bring people together, empower communities and transform our neighbourhoods and gardening has long been part of social and political movements and this is covered well in the exhibition. I learnt of the importance of cabbages and how they were a resistance to land enclosure.

Between the 1600s and 1900s enclosure acts fenced off common land, and so it was more difficult for the poorest in society to graze animals and grow food. In 1906 a group of unemployed men planted cabbages on unfenced church land in Manchester to raise awareness of the poverty they were facing.

As land was enclosed and cities grew allotments emerged as a way of providing green space for those living in newly industrialised cities, and as we know allotments remain sought after today. Today they are often a garden away from home, to grow all sorts of plants and to relax and foster a sense of community, much more than their first intended use for simply growing food.

PIERRE LEVEQUE DE VILMORIN, ALBUM VILMORIN, PARIS 1850

And why cabbages for the land reclamation protests? They’re nutritious and can be harvested all year round, they can be eaten fresh or easily preserved. Cabbage really is king, and I was more than happy to admire this large artwork of a cabbage, and ponder about the connection to my ‘cabbage crockery’ back home.

Gardening and global exchange

Our garden plants tell a global story, and one I think we often forget. Tulips originated in Persia, and were in gardens of the Ottoman Empire in the 900s before arriving in Britain in the 17th century, where they became an instant hit.

When we move house we usually take our favourite plants, or at least cuttings of them with us, but in the days of the British Empire the movement of plants became a colonial programme, often relying on local expert knowledge and, at worst, depending on enslaved people’s labour. This changed our gardening landscape forever and gardeners today are making sense of these tangled roots and addressing gardening’s colonial past and connections.

JOHN GERARD, A GENERALL HISTORIE OF PLANTS. LONDON, 1597

Potatoes which are a staple of our gardens and allotments were first brought to Europe in the 1500s, from Peru and Bolivia, by Spanish colonisers. It’s strange to think that Europeans were initially suspicious of what is still such a staple today; their suspicions were because it belonged to the poisonous nightshade family, then the sweet potato was more commonly eaten. The first English description of a potato appeared in John Gerard’s herbal in 1597.

Much work was undertaken to record plants, and botanical illustration still plays an important role in plant identification. At the exhibition one of the finest botanical works ever produced, The Hortus Eystettensis (1613) is on display for the first time. It captures on paper one of the finest botanical gardens in 17th century Europe, reconstructing Prince-Bishop of Eichstatt’s garden in Bavaria.

BESILLIUS BESLER, HORTUS EYSTETTENSIS, ALTDORF, 1613

It’s not a small book, and the picture above is deceptive - it’s easily comparable to A3 in size - but if every page is as beautify as the sunflower that I saw, then it truly is an amazing piece of work. For the first time, every flower, herb and vegetable in a single garden was captured in rich detail, with some copies lavishly hand-coloured. The Hortus Eystenttensis revolutionised the representation of plants and is considered one of the finest botanical works ever produced, and I feel very fortunate to have seen this.

Pineapples were another instant hit when the fruit reached Europe with gardeners pushing technological and horticultural boundaries in a race to discover how to grow them in our cooler climate. Orangeries were not hot enough for tropical pineapples. A breakthrough came in the 1720s when they discovered that the plants would fruit in pits of horse manure and decomposting wood bark, which generated heat, and then ripen in a traditonal glasshouse.

ADAM TAYLOR, A TREATISE ON THE ANANAS OR PINE-APPLE, DEVIZES, 1769

Britain was obsessed with growing pineapples in the 1700s, and it was a sign of horticultural mastery, privilege and luxury - even rented as centrepieces for lavish dinner parties, which seems crazy to think now, doesn’t it?

Gardening with the planet

By its very nature gardening connects us to the natural world. Once our gardens were manicured spaces where nature was restrained and controlled, however now it’s more likely that our gardens are sanctuaries for all types of life - bird feeders, bird boxes, bug hotels, no mow May and so much more. And increasingly that’s becoming more important for more of us.

Irish gardener William Robinson hated the formal, ornamental bedding of his Victorian predecessors, favouring a more ‘wild’ feel inspired by the Arts & Crafts movement and encouraged gardeners to use a variety of perennials, bulbs and grasses as he has in his own garden at Gravetye Manor, which you’ll remember I visited earlier in April.

It wasn’t all books on display though, there was the first mechanical lawnmower and one of the two remaining Wardian cases (used to transport plants around the globe), and this larger than life F*** lawns call to action artwork amongst others. Pairing these two items together did make me smile, one encouraged the lawn to be its middle-class suburban obsession, the other the complete opposite!

The first mechanical lawnmower displayed alongside more modern artwork Fuck Lawns

Edwin Budding, inventor of the first mechanised lawnmower in 1830, testing his lawnmower at night to avoid ridicule from his neighbours - little did they know his invention would change our gardens forever. In more recent times guerrilla gardening became an unseen, out of hours activity bringing spaces back to life seemingly overnight.

And much of what we know today about gardening and the environment isn’t new. Back in the 1600s when London was a city powered by coal and smothered in smoke, John Evelyn, a public servant and gardener called for greener air. He urged that creating plantations of flowers and vegetation could be part of the solution, understanding the benefits that gardening can have on our environment. He said that trades which burned coal, such as brewing and soap-boiling, should be moved out of the city, and wanted the land around the city to be planted with scented flowers and herbs such as jasmine, lavender and rosemary.

JOHN EVELYN, FUMIFUGIUM, LONDON 1661

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be today if that had been the case - but what a great title: ‘Fumifugium or The Inconveniencie of the Aer and Smoak of London Dissipated Together with fome Remedies humbly proposed To His Sacred Majesties’ who was King Charles II, and rather peculiarly available on Amazon for £13.99!

It was a great exhibition, and I’ve so many more photos that I could have shared. If you’re in London and have time to see this exhibition it really is worth an hour or two at least of your time. It’s a great way of understanding more deeply how and why we’re so connected to gardening, and it’s so much more than an exhibition about the nation’s favourite past time.

With thanks to the British Library for the invitation to preview this exhibition. The exhibition Unearthed: The Power of Gardening is on at the British Library in London until Sunday 10 August, tickets are priced £15 and can be booked online.

Hamid Zenati at the Nottingham Contemporary

While there are plenty of exhibitions in London - one of which we’ve been to recently, there’s also plenty of exhibitions and ‘culture’ outside of the capital, and that’s something we’re still exploring. Since we’ve lived in Nottinghamshire though, I think we’ve been to more concerts and such, which given we practically lived on the O2’s doorstep in Greenwich is pretty odd! I think here we’re actively looking for things to explore as we build our new lives, but all of that is made so much easier by the institutions here putting on such great programmes.

Anyway, while my car was in for its service and MOT we decided to catch the bus into Nottingham and spend the day there. We weren’t sure which bus exactly, but the garage pointed us in the right direction and on both journeys we had to run for the bus, so that was a bonus too.

I’d spotted the Two Steps at a Time exhibition at the Nottingham Contemporary in a magazine and had added the exhibition dates to my calendar, so that was just the prompt I needed to sort out something a little different. I also signed us up to the ‘Wednesday Walkthrough’ session where we were led through more details about the artist by an art expert, at this session Sheyda Aisha Khaymaz an artist, curator and PhD Candidate in Art History at the University of Texas at Austin.

After completing the more usual tasks of shopping and checking out items for potential future online purchases, and then grabbing a coffee we set off to find the Nottingham Contemporary. It’s a fairly brutalist piece of architecture, and one we hadn’t seen before - however when we arrived we realised we’d probably been less than a few hundred feet away from it on most of our visits to the city. Even better was we’re getting our bearings and knew this just by looking at our surroundings - it’s great when that happens and you start to find your way around a new place naturally isn’t it?

The modern building of the Nottingham Contemporary space

NOTTINGHAM CONTEMPORARY

I knew nothing of the artist before we booked our spaces, but learnt from the website blurb that Hamid Zenati (b 1944 Algeria; d 2022 Germany) was a self-taught and prolific artist working across many surfaces including textiles, fashion and ceramics and more.

This exhibition is the second-ever showing of his nearly sixty year career and the first in the UK - and from the images on the website I knew we were in for a feast of colour.

It was great to hear more about the artist, and the talk was busy with up to thirty people also attending, which the organisers clearly welcomed. I’ll not share much more about the artist or the talk, but we enjoyed both - I’ve realised lately that I’m very much a visual person (it’s not really a surprise tbh), so I’ll leave you (mostly anyway) to enjoy my favourite pictures.

various textiles hung around the gallery space

The gallery with the textiles was my favourite of the two spaces. They were hung at varying levels from the super high space and that also provided movement, and being able to get up so close was unexpected, as was being able to walk through (literally) the pieces - though of course people were respecting them and ducking to avoid any contact.

Textiles hung in a gallery at varying heights on display

The piece at the centre top of the image above is I think my favourite piece of the exhibition. I’m not sure if that’s because it captured your attention as soon as you walked in through its height or its colours, but it’s the one I kept coming back to - and there were plenty in here that I liked.

repetitive lines and blobs on a green and black background - two individual pieces of work

The boldness of the pieces was amazing, and perhaps this is attributed to being self taught and not needing to follow the rules, or perhaps it’s just what it is and what needed to come out! He didn’t document much of his work at all, so there’s no sure way of knowing - which again means you can make up your own mind, as can I.

The one below was close to being my favourite, for the colours. I can imagine that making a lovely summer dress! Which isn’t as mad or sacrilegious as it sounds, as the gallery staff were wearing his designs. I’m not sure how they felt about it, but it was a fab touch to bring the art to life.

A textile with a circle and shapes emanating from it

I’ll share one final textile, this one had me captivated during the first part of the talk. It was in my direct eye line and I found myself wondering if they were whales or just fish. They could be either I guess.

colourful whales - or fishes - on a black background

This last picture is the one the MOH was most taken with. It’s in the second gallery where there’s more ceramics and even more textiles, though smaller ones which are laid out on plinths. It too follows the ‘fill the space’ approach which isn’t something I’m against. I too love the bold colours, and would happily have a pair of matching, or at least complementary, vases like this on our half-stair landing - though I’d be worried about them bouncing down the stairs unaided.

It’s great to find exhibitions such as this locally, I’m glad I spotted it and that we were able to go and enjoy it - I’m sure we’ll be back to the Nottingham Contemporary, and I’m pretty sure there’s much more in Nottingham and around for us to discover.

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