"I don't expect you to darn my socks"

2. A place in a garment that has been darned.

I've never seen these Picasso's before:


And who do I see there hiding in the corner? Is that you Andy?


The inevitable happened, me posing with Andy's Happy Bug Day/Happy Butterfly Day. Which happen to be, if you believe what they've typed on the card beside it, Andy's favourite designs of the 1950s. Yay.

I myself didn't really saw the words morphed back into the exhibition. Twas more looking at the "prettiness" or the "art" that lays behind (or maybe even infront) of the fabric and how the real art lays in the (handmade) fabrication of textile than the actual artistic revolution to provide art or see art as something available to all. But maybe that is, theorizing here, because it's been held within the boundaries of the walls it wants to surpass (ya know, the elite image of museums and shizzle). 

However, I think some walls might've been knocked down thanks to the socalled "textiellab" (I've felt the urge to translate textiel with textile, but since that means that I'll have to swap the e and l, I think I don't have to bother. Just imagine that I've made a typo or something). Within the textiellab they produce works solidly in the name of experimenting and helping out the arts. As a visitor you can just walk around the area and look at looms, lasers and knitting machines (funny story: A man who worked there asked us if we knew how a knitting machine works. "Yes", my mother said full of confidence, "my mother used to have a knitting machine at home". The man looks bdazzled and just carries on, as if not hearing my mothers comment, "Here. I'll show you how a knitting machine works" and begins to explain how a knitting machine works. Weird. Also, there was a knitting machine that could made a glove within 3 minutes. Quite impressive. Although I was most impressed by the laser. You just see a little flame from nowhere go into patterns and ta-da, you've got yourself all kinds of different pieces. They were busy cutting parts for dresses for Heineken that'll be worn at some event in London or something... So Londoners, keep your eyes peeling out for that).

The whole experience was very inspiring and weirdly motivating. There's a lot to see. Like for instance the permanent exhibition The Woollen Blanket Factory 1900-1940. The museum is btw stationed in an old factory and lots of those features they've kept. Which is 1) very endearing and impressive and 2) scary as... very.. stairs... whaa! (lift not better. Still had to go with the stairs. They had holes in them. I was wearing black shoes with a big plateau sole. Not a good shoe choice in this situation. My father had to practically carry me downstairs. I've survived. Barely).

Here's an action photo my dad took when we elegantly derived from the stairs. Thanks, dad:

Upstairs they've made room for Body Jewels (there until the 29th of March 2015) which focuses upon Dutch design and the "outbreak" of jewelry as seen as 'mere jewelry'. And, on top of that, breaking free from the association of it being more applied art than fine art AND more being "woman's work" than, well, something that carries "far less weight" according prejudices and value judgements and so on and so on).

Although this part was probably the most inspiring (don't get me wrong. I definitely need an Andy Warhol dress with lipstick on it, or that very first white dress with black figures by Dior, in my life. Otherwise I cant function properly...), I don't have many words to describe it. Again, I don't really see the intentions they've put down in words into the actual exhibition. But, it was game strong in its design and thereby its simplicity or better said severity. The objects were intertwined harmoniously with eachother, yet all stood strong on their own.

Our visit ended at the museumshop where I got from my lovely parents a book called Eco Fashion by Sass Brown and I'm really happy with it! I haven't read a word of it yet, but the pictures look very impressive...

The main downside of museumshops is that they're always very expensive. It's just something they can't seem to do right. I naturally don't despise all the pricey stuff, but there seems to be no middle way. You can get a really expensive book or you can get a postcard of paintings they don't even have hanging in the museum (am I the only one who finds that weird? I mean, why would I sell postcards with stuff I don't even own. That's bad managing. And most of the museums are guilty of it. Something as big and grand as the Rijksmuseum sells postcards of pictures their neighbours of the Van Gogh Museum owns and visa versa. It's ludicrous!). Or you could just not get anything, but what's the fun in that?!

Love,

Dominique