Latest news with #ChelseaCollegeofArts
Fashion Network
18-07-2025
- Business
- Fashion Network
TEX+ 2025 announces UK textile award winners
Beth Lingard scooped several prizes at the TEX+ 2025 Awards event recently held at the Chelsea College of Arts in London, with the Leeds Arts University student among some of the UK's top graduating textile designers to receive awards. Presented by trend forecaster Li Edelkoort and attended by Orla Kiely and Zandra Rhodes, the winners were selected from 25 finalists representing institutions also including Central St Martins, Glasgow School of Art, and Manchester School of Art. Lingard scooped the £500 Sanderson Art in Industry Prize, awarded for Commercial & Market Potential, and The Sahara Prize, with a £500 cash award and a one-month placement at Sahara Textiles. She also the won The Pattern Cloud Prize, gaining one-year free access to The Pattern Cloud Graduate Plan. Central Saint Martins ' Amber Fry also won two prizes, the £1,000 TEX+ Trustees' Prize for Sustainability & Ethical Practice, and the Mary Restieaux Prize, which included a private studio visit, mentorship and hand-dyed silk yarns. Other winners were Esme Whitton, UWE Bristol School of Art and Design, who won the Liberty Fabrics Studio Prize, which comes with a studio visit, and three-month mentorship complete with archive access; Winnie Sowter, Edinburgh College of Art, who took the Helga Goldman Prize for Innovation & Creativity and its £1,000 cash prize; Severina Seidl, Royal School of Needlework, won the TEX+ Trustees' Prize for Technical Excellence (also with a £1,000 award); while The Pentland Prize saw two winners of two-month paid design placements at Pentland Brands going to Yingruo Cao, London College of Fashion and Aidan Morris, Glasgow School of Art; meanwhile Asha Vine, Arts University Bournemouth, took the Bay & Brown Prize which included an online floral print course and portfolio session with Tracey Brown. Jeremy Somers, chair of TEX+, said: 'Every year we're amazed by the depth of talent coming through, but the 2025 cohort has truly raised the bar. These designers are not only technically skilled but also tackling some of the most urgent conversations in design today -- from sustainability to storytelling, identity to innovation.' Edelkoort added: 'The future is incredibly bright when I see so many students courageously confronting the major challenges of our time -- rethinking materials, reshaping systems, and reviving crafts. At TEX+, we witness a new generation not just dreaming of change, but designing it.'
Fashion Network
18-07-2025
- Business
- Fashion Network
TEX+ 2025 announces UK textile award winners
Beth Lingard scooped several prizes at the TEX+ 2025 Awards event recently held at the Chelsea College of Arts in London, with the Leeds Arts University student among some of the UK's top graduating textile designers to receive awards. Presented by trend forecaster Li Edelkoort and attended by Orla Kiely and Zandra Rhodes, the winners were selected from 25 finalists representing institutions also including Central St Martins, Glasgow School of Art, and Manchester School of Art. Lingard scooped the £500 Sanderson Art in Industry Prize, awarded for Commercial & Market Potential, and The Sahara Prize, with a £500 cash award and a one-month placement at Sahara Textiles. She also the won The Pattern Cloud Prize, gaining one-year free access to The Pattern Cloud Graduate Plan. Central Saint Martins ' Amber Fry also won two prizes, the £1,000 TEX+ Trustees' Prize for Sustainability & Ethical Practice, and the Mary Restieaux Prize, which included a private studio visit, mentorship and hand-dyed silk yarns. Other winners were Esme Whitton, UWE Bristol School of Art and Design, who won the Liberty Fabrics Studio Prize, which comes with a studio visit, and three-month mentorship complete with archive access; Winnie Sowter, Edinburgh College of Art, who took the Helga Goldman Prize for Innovation & Creativity and its £1,000 cash prize; Severina Seidl, Royal School of Needlework, won the TEX+ Trustees' Prize for Technical Excellence (also with a £1,000 award); while The Pentland Prize saw two winners of two-month paid design placements at Pentland Brands going to Yingruo Cao, London College of Fashion and Aidan Morris, Glasgow School of Art; meanwhile Asha Vine, Arts University Bournemouth, took the Bay & Brown Prize which included an online floral print course and portfolio session with Tracey Brown. Jeremy Somers, chair of TEX+, said: 'Every year we're amazed by the depth of talent coming through, but the 2025 cohort has truly raised the bar. These designers are not only technically skilled but also tackling some of the most urgent conversations in design today -- from sustainability to storytelling, identity to innovation.' Edelkoort added: 'The future is incredibly bright when I see so many students courageously confronting the major challenges of our time -- rethinking materials, reshaping systems, and reviving crafts. At TEX+, we witness a new generation not just dreaming of change, but designing it.'
Observer
29-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Observer
In This Exhibit, Six Female Artists Turn Emotion Into Shelter
The first thing that strikes you when you walk into H1 Art Gallery is how quiet the space feels—not silent, but hushed, like you've just stepped into someone's thoughts. The walls hum with the soft voices of six women who've never met before this exhibition, yet feel deeply connected by what they've chosen to show. 'We End Up Building Nests' doesn't come at you loudly—it invites you in, gently. And if you stay long enough, you begin to see what they're really saying. At one end, ceramic vessels by Helena Dragunova seem like they've been unearthed from memory. There's something honest about the way she mixes textiles with clay—her 'Bustan' series doesn't feel designed as much as remembered. The muted fabrics tucked around the forms, the earthy finish, the restraint—it all brings to mind not just Oman's landscapes, but a kind of emotional terrain. You get the sense she's making peace with something. A few steps away, you spot what looks like old paper glowing from inside. That's Farah Asqul's lightbox collage, a work stitched from the past and lit for the present. It's deeply nostalgic, yet not sentimental. It demands you look closer—past the printed words, into the scraps and brushstrokes layered like skin. Her decades-long project using an antique book is about memory, sure, but it's also about how we process ourselves through fragments. Then there's thread sewn into paper—minimal, precise, almost too quiet. Haneen al Moosawi's stitched pieces don't ask much of the viewer at first, but they linger. They speak to the slow, silent kind of growth—the kind no one sees, but which shapes everything. Her lines are like emotional fault lines, tracking the body's language before the brain catches up. Every piece in this exhibition has a quiet strength to it. Take Nada W. al Kharusi's work, which brings photography, poetry, and deep vulnerability together. Her images don't hide behind perfection. They're raw and a bit wild, as if she's saying, 'Here's what healing looks like—it's not always pretty, but it's real.' Her message is clear: you're allowed to feel everything. Across the room, Rozita Nosrati's paintings feel rooted—literally. Trees she passed daily are turned into reflections of belonging, of patience, of watching the world change around you. She paints not just what she sees, but what stays with her. The longer you look, the more you recognise the feeling of familiarity with a place that's still foreign. Finally, Sara Riaz Khan's abstract works echo with stories from the women in her life. The form of a traditional shirt becomes armour, the fabric of legacy, turned into powerful visual shields. You don't need to know her ancestors to feel the weight of the women she honours. Holding all of this together is Mays al Moosawi, the curator, whose own artistic journey shapes the tone of the show. Mays grew up between Oman and Iraq, surrounded by creativity, and eventually found her way to Chelsea College of Arts in London. Her work is deeply introspective, often exploring the emotional inheritance passed down from the women in her family. This exhibit, in many ways, feels like a continuation of that exploration—only this time, she's invited others into the process. Her recent solo show in Dubai taught her the value of cohesion and narrative, and you can feel that here. Each artist is distinct, but there's an unspoken rhythm to how the pieces are placed, how the stories echo one another without repeating. What makes 'We End Up Building Nests' special isn't just the art—it's the feeling that these women are building something bigger than themselves. Through different mediums—clay, paper, thread, fabric, paint—they're mapping out spaces of care, questioning, reflection. Their works are not loud proclamations. They're gentle invitations. Each piece offers a kind of refuge, a safe place to land. A nest. The exhibition runs until 14 July 2025 at H1 Art Gallery in Jawharat al Shati, Qurum. Whether you're an art lover or just someone looking to feel something quietly powerful, this is worth a visit. You may just walk away carrying a piece of someone's story—and maybe even seeing your own a little differently.
CNN
26-06-2025
- Entertainment
- CNN
Is this the most political fashion item ever?
Overlooked, familiar, homely… These are the words traditionally associated with the apron, a detachable, workaday garment that has historically functioned 'almost like an invisibility cloak.' So said Carol Tulloch, a professor of dress, diaspora and transnationalism at Chelsea College of Arts, in a telephone interview with CNN. Just don't tell that to Jeremy Allen White's character Carmy Berzatto in hit TV drama 'The Bear' whose tightly-tied blue Bragard apron (a replica of those worn in chic Napa Valley eatery The French Laundry) only enhances his main character energy as the show's fourth season premieres this week. Tulloch, alongside fellow London-based academic Judith Clark, a professor of fashion and museology at London College of Fashion, have recently come together for a three-month-long residency at the Chelsea Space gallery to reflect upon the apron's cultural and social values — its design and use, as well as role regarding issues of race, class, and gender identity. It's timely as the apron is enjoying something of a renaissance in popular culture — featuring, for example, in recent collections from Hermès, The Row, Dior, Phoebe Philo and Ganni and on Kaia Gerber who wore a chic pinafore-style dress while out in New York in April — and it's ability to encompass unheard stories and experiences is starting to be critically appraised. 'They've been an unconscious part of many of our lives and childhoods,' said Tulloch. 'While they only really have one function — to protect clothes — they come in many forms.' When Tulloch started critically examining aprons, they proved to be a fascinating insight into people across all strata of society, she said. 'Those I wouldn't expect to have a close relationship with aprons — academics, for example — become quite pensive when they start thinking about them.' Tulloch recalled a small show from some years ago, called 'Pinnies from Heaven' at the Makers Guild museum in Wales, exhibiting works created by artists based on their recollections of the apron. One artist talked about how, for them, the apron absorbed the detritus of all the things that happened in the home, not just the mess from cooking or cleaning, but emotional fallout too. 'That really stuck with me,' Tulloch said. For Clark, the apron is 'talismanic.' Speaking to CNN via a phone call, she observed that the residency created an immediate sense of nostalgia for some people. 'Within two minutes of coming in, people recount something of their family history,' she said. Tulloch has also looked at aprons as a tool of protection and activism for women through the lens of African Jamaican market women called 'Higglers'. 'The Higgler is still very much a part of Jamaican identity,' says Tulloch. 'She was visually defined by the apron, whether tied around the waist or as a full bib. Likewise they were worn by women who were pineapple or banana pickers, or domestic workers.' Tulloch references contemporary South African artist Mary Sibande who explores the intersection of race, gender and labor in the country with her sculptural depictions of the apron-wearing 'Sophie,' the artist's self-proclaimed 'alter ego who plays out the fantasies of the maternal women in her family.' 'Sibande's great grandmother all the way up to her mother were all maids,' said Tulloch. 'The apron has served as a visual code in movies too: African American women were often defined as maids by the wearing of aprons in films and cartoons. Separately, the suffragettes reclaimed aprons, using pinafores emblazoned with slogans as activist tools, often when they had come out of prison for their campaigning work…' But aprons weren't always a sign of domesticity, servitude or homeliness, or of being working class. Nor were they always worn predominantly by women. Research suggests that triangular apron-like garments were first worn by noblemen in Ancient Egypt, as evidenced in paintings from the time. In the Middle Ages, aprons made from leather and heavy canvas were worn by farriers, cobblers, butchers, blacksmiths and other tradesmen desiring heavy duty protection from the perils of their work. Then, during the Renaissance, European 'women of means' wore elaborate yet washable aprons adorned with lace and embroidery to keep their luxurious gowns clean. Aprons were a fixture of many employments during the industrial revolution, with strict codes delineating the styles to be worn by staff (plain, workaday) and the styles worn by the women holding the purse strings (elaborate, embroidered and made from more costly cloths). In the 1950s, the apron came to be a symbol of homemaking particularly in the United States — think Lucille Ball's Lucy Ricardo character in the 1950s sitcom 'I Love Lucy' or more recently January Jones' portrayal of Betty Draper in 'Mad Men.' Despite the garment being such a part of our collective consciousness, aprons have rarely been studied, said Clark.' Collections, such as the one held by the Fashion Museum (in Bath, England), are huge and of great cultural value and significance, but there hasn't really been sustained research done on them,' she explained. While displaying aprons comes with its own set of challenges — the style is tricky to mount due to its flat construction — Clark also suspects aprons have 'not been considered of cultural importance because of their relationship to traditionally women's domestic work.' But perhaps that's changing as the apron continues to be modernized, further cementing itself into popular culture. Thanks to Gen-Z's increasing interest in food and cooking, apron-wearing is finding a new genderless and more diverse audience. While alpha male chefs of old wouldn't often be seen in a pinafore (Gordon Ramsay aside, aprons were the preserve of a 'cook') Carmy's proud pinny-wearing is a case in point. Even Vogue magazine decreed the return of the garment (alongside the rise of what they termed 'gardening-core') in their June 2025 issue. 'There's some beautiful imagery of the late (fashion journalist and muse) Anna Piaggi with Karl Lagerfeld, using a Chanel cape as an apron,' said Clark. 'I love their shape, their mobility, that they're not fitted and so therefore are a truly inclusive garment… I love how easily the item can be subverted. It just refuses to be defined.'
The Star
25-05-2025
- General
- The Star
Dreams beyond borders: the majie's vows of celibacy and bonds of sisterhood
Over 3,400km separate Guangdong, China, and George Town, Penang. Yet in the early 1900s, groups of single women from this Chinese province journeyed south to Malaya and Singapore seeking work and a better life. Known as majie, they took vows of celibacy in ceremonies where they combed their hair into buns – signalling their choice to remain unmarried, unlike the traditional long braids worn by single women. A century on, Guangdong artist-researcher Chen Jialu is retracing the journey of a remarkable group of women – from southeast China to Penang, Ipoh, Seremban, Melaka, and finally Singapore – to uncover their lives, dreams, and legacy. Beyond the patriarchy Guangdong is a highly-populated coastal province that borders Hong Kong and Macau. Its capital sits within the Pearl River Delta, a dense network of cities covering nine prefectures and the place that Chen calls home. 'I grew up in a very traditional clan, so I understand the concept of how women didn't get to own land or inherit. Of course, now, many things have changed and some can," says Chen, 32, in a recent interview in George Town. But there are also some things that have not changed much.' Like many ancient civilisations, China's patriarchal roots still shape its gender divide. Chen – an alumna of London's Chelsea College of Arts – has long been drawn to gender issues and formations of sisterhood. A workshop entitled 'What Happens After Leaving', led by Chen (standing, left), held during the exhibition which encouraged participants to explore how the majie adapted after arriving in Penang. Photo: Andrea Filmer 'I imagine how we (as women) can build networking of our own. I also focus a lot on the idea of owning land. "Land means a lot, aside from just property or money or resources. Land is a relationship between 'I' and the world. It means you can have your own home. You can own resources to produce things,' says Chen. The idea of ownership and financial independence among women was rare in ancient China but the rise of the silk industry in Guangdong created unique circumstances. The weather in the province coupled with fertile soil and frequent flooding encouraged the planting of mulberry trees and rearing of silk worms for the production of silk. Close attention to detail and patience were required to produce the intricate, handmade fabric and as a result, this task was relegated to women in the area. Wages were paid directly to them which made the prospect of marriage less attractive, especially in a society where wives deferred to husbands in all matters. Membership records from the Sai Chiew Villagers Association Singapore. Photo: Andrea Filmer 'In Canton (the original name for the Pearl River Delta), we are also used to strange marriage customs. For example, in the past, there were contracts from 'delayed marriages' where the woman did not go to stay with her husband for the first three years. "We have also heard of marriages to ghosts where one could essentially 'buy' the status of a married woman,' says Chen. Urban legends are also popular including one from neighbouring Hong Kong that tells the tale of the "Seven Sisters". Though several versions of this story exist, Chen says a popular one revolves around a mass suicide by seven women who had vowed to never marry. 'Seven girls pledged themselves to a sisterhood. But one of the girls was being forced by her family to marry, so, all seven girls decided to jump into the sea together. After that, seven big rocks showed up where they died,' says Chen. 'There are a lot of urban legends like this where I come from. We also see them in TV dramas and movies and I became curious and started asking if it was true that women led these kinds of lives. "How did women survive back then? And it was even more difficult for single women during that time,' she adds. Combing up Guangdong's silk industry was closely tied to the rise of the 'comb sisters' or majie – women who chose to forgo marriage in a symbolic hair-combing ceremony. This act secured financial independence, helped avoid abusive family dynamics, and allowed them to support their own families instead of a husband's. It also let younger siblings, especially brothers, marry out of the traditional birth order. Chen notes, however, that their reasons for 'combing up' were likely more complex. Visitors at the majie exhibition at the Soon Tuck Wooi Koon venue on Love Lane in George Town, Penang. Photo: Andrea Filmer 'There isn't one simple reason why the majie made this choice; there were complicated issues that they were facing. I think it's very important to tell the true story of their lives and not just look at them in a glorified way. "Society has put many labels on this group of women, like fighters or feminists, but I think they had many different reasons for why they 'combed up'. Their story tells us how ordinary, normal people can survive and choose their own lives in this world,' says Chen. Perpetual singledom came with strict rules—breaking celibacy vows brought harsh punishment, and without children, many majie faced neglect in old age. They couldn't die in the family home or have their spirit tablets placed on the family altar. In response, they formed tight-knit bonds, pooling resources to live and die together in communal homes called gupouk. The new world A change in their fates happened with the rise of industrialisation. 'Around the 1920s, the silk industry began to move to other places like Japan as the industrial revolution in China took hold. People started to buy industrial-produced fabric instead of handcrafted silk and this led to majie being unable to find work in their hometowns,' says Chen, adding that the Great Depression of the time also did not help the situation. Clothing and accessories worn by majie back in the day, along with a cotton, transparent replica for visitors to touch and handle. Photo: Andrea Filmer As demand for domestic help grew in colonial South-East Asia, majie looked beyond China for work. Established trade routes eased their journey to Hong Kong, Malaya, and Singapore. When Chen began exploring their story around 2020, she discovered a significant number of gupouk in George Town, Penang. In 2023, Chen came to Malaysia for the Kuala Lumpur Art Book Fair and extended her trip to Penang. She sought people raised by majie, families they worked for, or their adopted children. Her research earned her a 2024 grant from the Asian Cultural Council Hong Kong to study the majie's history and material culture. Starting August last year, she visited sites linked to majie in Penang, Ipoh, Seremban, Kuala Lumpur, Melaka, and Singapore. However, the fact that a large number of majie were illiterate and, owing to their vow of celibacy, did not have children, posed challenges to finding out more about their lives. 'It's hard to say which area had the most number of majie as there's no clear or specific records of them. However, we've discovered that there were many sisterhood houses in Penang; more than 10 that we know of. "They are all located in George Town and we've found them on roads like Love Lane, Muntri Street and Pintal Tali,' says Chen, sadly adding that all majie in the area have since moved back or died. 'Most majie who worked as domestic helpers would have to stay at their employers house but when they did have time off, they would come back to the sisterhood houses to chat, wash their hair or do their personal chores,' she says. A photo in 'Gupouk In Pearl River Delta', a book by Chen Jialu documenting Gupo houses across Guangdong in China. Photo: Andrea Filmer Clan – and hometown-based Chinese organisations were common then, with majie often actively involved in them. 'I hadn't seen any writings about their role in associations, so discovering it was precious,' says Chen. 'These women came alone, yet built rich, colourful networks.' Old photos from Chinese associations helped her trace their activities. Gupouk days In March, Chen teamed up with cultural activist Chan Lean Heng and educator-entrepreneur S. Soonufat to launch the Remembering And Celebrating The Lives And Contributions Of Majies series in George Town. The three-month programme features eight events, including Chen's first curated exhibition, Majie – Mama and Sister, Gupo – Aunt and Grandma, Comb Peace Comb Safe, held in April at Soon Tuck Wooi Koon, a historic clan house. It showcased artefacts, records, and photos she gathered – centred by formal group portraits from a gupouk on Lorong Pasar. This precious find, showing over 181 majie, was salvaged by local heritage advocate Khoo Salma, who was raised by a majie herself. A fascinating collection of membership records from the Sai Chiew Villagers Association Singapore was also on display. 'In this association's records, there are so many female members that seem to be majie. The hairstyle and dressing is the same and they are all registered as domestic workers. "On top of that, they all lived in the same address,' says Chen. The exhibition also featured two videos: a short documentary entitled A Day Of Gupo which features an interview with majie Li Gu, 93, in Panyu, China, while the second highlighted Lee Wing Kong, a gentleman from Pintal Tali in Penang, who helped write letters for the majie to send home. 'During my research, I've met so many people connected to the majie—all incredibly caring and welcoming,' says Chen. "I think this exhibition can be seen as a kind of introduction to get attention from more people who can review their own memories about the majie,' she concludes. The Letters Never Sent – a site-specific performance – will be held at the Journal Georgetown, Penang, from May 30 to June 1. The Journal serves as the meeting point as audiences walk alongside performers through seven immersive 'stations'. This performance concludes the 'Remembering And Celebrating The Lives And Contributions Of Majies' project. More info here.
