traditional dress

The treasures I found on my last trip to Jordan cost only 1 JD each, and had the theme of traditional dress.

First, a brilliant subversion of the Barbie aesthetic, hand crafted by an anonymous woman in Madaba. I saw this display on the street, and was completely enthralled. As I closely examined the whole array, a man told me they were one dinar, and that his wife made the clothing.

I can still look at this photo for ages: such well-dressed women! The various cross stitch, brocade, and print fabrics are so well selected, and the combination of semi-veiled, fully veiled and headband wear makes it look like a parade of actual Jordanian women. And even the occasional man, with a drawn-on beard!

Some of them have black eyes, made with the same pen as the men's beards, and others are left blue-eyed. It's the variety that gets me, and makes such a strong and positive point. The Madaba woman is not simply saying that women should be "modest" or "covered", or that they should all look the same, but saying rather, "Look how lovely we are, in the rich mix of clothing that shows we are Jordanian!"

I only bought the one shown here, after much agonizing over colors and styles. Probably should have gotten at least half a dozen, but sometimes reason does prevail over my collecting urges, supported this time by an imminent international move. I told the man to tell his wife "Mashallah!" - Well done!

It's striking to compare the beauty of these dolls with the images they were originally meant to represent, which I don't see as "beauty" at all, merely convention. Keeping them in the original boxes makes the subversion complete.

The base dolls are made in China - which information was also blacked out with a marker.

I'm definitely a biased observer, given my love for handcrafted clothing and textiles, but to me it's quite obvious which presentation celebrates female identity and beauty more effectively. One has only to imagine all the dolls looking identical, prior to their transformation.

I should also mention that one sees colorful, embroidered robes for sale in the shops, and women really do wear them. Jordanian women are quite visible, active, and professional around town, while maintaining a high level of modesty and coverage with their dress.

The second treasure of this trip was a set of postcards, two for 1 JD, from the Shrine of the Beheading of John the Baptist at Madaba (I know - whoa.) The church is an active one, with evidence of the Orthodox Easter celebrations still scattered around (I was there in April,) and in addition to the interesting architecture and historical aspects of the building, they had a collection of old photographs on display. The prints showed Christians from Kerak and other neighboring areas, who came to Madaba to consolidate the Christian community, around 1900. Of interest to me was, of course, how they dressed.

I noticed the girls were wearing oversized dresses with long, pointed sleeve openings. This was particularly evident on the smaller girls.

Women and girls in Madaba, circa 1905. R. Savignac and A. Jaussen, École Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem

Three meter Bedouin dress, Tiraz Home for Arab Dress, Amman, Jordan

You can see that the ends of her sleeves hang in front, and that the dress is bunched up below the waist. This may be less obvious if one has never seen a traditional oversized dress, but I immediately thought of the three meter dress I'd seen at Tiraz, during the textile conference last year.

We had all been fascinated by this dress, and wondering how it was worn, and had found some references in books that showed the belting, blousing of fully half of the length of the dress over the belt, and wrapping or tying of sleeves around, behind, etc. Then someone found an excellent documentary video in Widad Kawar's archives, with a woman demonstrating the belting and arrangement of the extra large dress.

This made me happy to see real examples of such a garment from the early 20th century, and especially happy that the church sold postcards of some of the old photos.

(The photos, from which I have excerpted bits with bad snaps, are credited to R. Savignac and A. Jaussen, and are shown in Madaba courtesy of the École Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem.)

Documentation of the large dress in a Danish book - sorry I did not save the title of the book.

Christian women and girls in Madaba circa 1905. R. Savignac and A. Jaussen, École Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem — Christian women and girls in Madaba circa 1905. R. Savignac and A. Jaussen, École Biblique et Archéologique Française in Jerusalem

Jordan textile conference

There were many beautiful and impressive things about the Traditional Textile Craft: An Intangible Heritage conference in Amman in April, 2014. But the most beautiful and impressive were the various women who are dedicating themselves to textiles through research, preservation, support of craftspeople, and the pure enthusiasm and love that goes along with such work.

We were very fortunate to be able to visit Widad Kawar's costume and textile collection at the new home she has created, called Tiraz: a home for Arab dress. Even more fortunate was her participation in the conference, her invaluable presence in this group of textile scholars and enthusiasts. She gave one of the opening talks, in which she explained that she didn't start out intending to collect, but things started happening, and "the more things happened around me, the more I collected." Poignant words from a woman who grew up in Palestine.

Widad also emphasized the importance of documentation, that the collection must be accompanied by as much information as possible. In her case, she conducted extensive interviews with people who created and wore the types of garments in her collection, gathering stories and historical facts. The wealth of knowledge represented by her textiles is awe-inspiring, and international groups and students work with her to help register and retain this priceless store of culture.

Widad is a joy to be around, constantly discussing textile traditions and practices, and eagerly examining any new textile that comes her way, whether in the slide presentations of the conference or worn by the participants (all of whom were usually wearing something interesting and handmade.)

Widad Kamar explains the use of the hanging basket for storing embroidery in progress, showing a wooden bobbin with unspun silk threads from inside the basket. — Widad Kawar explains the use of the hanging basket for storing embroidery in progress, showing a wooden bobbin with unspun silk threads from inside the basket.

Traditional gift from a woman to her betrothed: an embroidered pouch to keep his tobacco and rolling papers.

During our visit to Tiraz, we were also treated to the collection of Layla Pio, an Iraqi woman with deep knowledge of the textiles of her country. She gave us a tour through the examples she had on display, including the Samawah kilim she is showing here, a woolen twill weave with dense chain stitch embroidery. I see these in the souq in Doha often.

Another woman by the name of Laila Tyabji, resplendent each day in different hand-crafted saris, runs a wonderful organization known as Dastkar. She gave an inspiring talk about her work, illustrated with so many beautiful images from India that I wanted her to just keep talking and show them all slowly. Craftspeople in the most difficult of circumstances, but given strength by their skills and traditional knowledge. Laila noted that it was craftspeople who recovered more quickly, after the massive earthquake in Bhuj, than other livelihoods. She said that when the skills exist, it takes very little to revitalize a craft tradition, and she gave delightful examples of the ingenuity and creative involvement of the craftspeople, when they are given the chance to participate in the design. Her work carries so much insight into the process of supporting traditional craft, insight that she has developed through myriad ongoing interactions and observations of what is successful and what is not. Overall, her conclusions were quite encouraging and affirmed that the living tradition simply needs to be allowed to function, in the way the people have learned and taught for centuries, and that this can be a very resilient system that need not be threatened by modern consumerism.

Laila Tyabji blends in with the textile glory in a completely hand-embroidered sari.

Until I have time to write more, I include some more details of this over-saturated week.

Bedouin belt from Tiraz collection, card woven with twining, braided fringe.

More garden decor at Al Alaydi Jordan Craft Center.

Rich detail of a Palestinian dress, with Syrian silk fabric appliqué.

Metal thread embroidery detail on a Syrian silk abaya from the 19th century, at Tiraz.

sewing bhisht

Sometimes I forget that I live in an exotic place, to the sensibilities of people back home. A trip to the souq usually corrects that lapse. Even on a normal day, Souq Waqif smells of spices and incense, and teems with shopping Qataris, groups of small schoolchildren, the odd tourists, and of course the mounted traditional patrol, above. They are, ostensibly, some kind of security force, but really it's for show.

I was determined to find the 'handicraft section' of the souq, since I'd heard about it from people who moved here recently. The reason I hadn't known of it before was probably because it didn't exist. Anyway, entering the alley helpfully labeled "Handicraft Market", I found some guys working with their hands. This is a bhisht shop.

A bhisht is a traditional robe Gulf Arab men wear over their white thobe. They used to be made from handspun camel hair, and some of them probably still are. This one appears to be wool, and is a dense, warp-faced weave, as opposed to the more open, sheer plainweave often seen in diplomats' and political leaders' bhisht.

Gulf Arab leaders in typical dress (former Emir of Qatar, second from left, in the most sheer bhisht - a sign of status?)

While I've taken an interest in the wool of the robe, the metallic thread embroidery is so dense and shiny, I always kind of assumed it was made by machine. But these guys in the souq showed me how wrong I was. There they sat, earbuds in, fingers flying across the fabric stretched between their knees.

Some of them were couching the gold threads with another thread, as above, and others were actually making stitches with the gold. The bobbin of choice for metal threads is a cassette tape cover. I imagine them salvaging the tape boxes long after they have discarded the tapes in favor of their MP3 or iPod.

Given that this was an entirely male, Muslim space, I was timid with the photographs, and didn't get right up in their work to see the details of the stitching. But an examination of the finished pieces shows an impressive array of stitches and patterns, and I gained a new appreciation for this traditional garment.

The little spots of silver look almost random.