Right then.
Respectability.
I don’t quite know where this tangential thought has come from, except it has grown out of my last piece of work to do with parents and children, expectations, behaviour and so on. I am thinking of my own children and how they have been brought up, and the children I teach, (and their parents) and what I hear them talking about in that haven that isn’t a classroom, The Art Room. And constantly, while thinking of the present, and the future, there is a comparison going on, with my own childhood, and my own education.
My own childhood was fairly free, idyllic in many ways. Rural, grubby, adventurous, imaginative, creative, fun. Off out on my bike, wearing wellies every day, and expected home before dark. My brothers were much older than me, so not playmates, more like heroes, and protectors.
I can’t ever remember, really, at home being told how to behave in terms of showing myself to be respectable, other than “minding my manners”. I do however, at school, a Roman Catholic primary school in the late 60s early 70s, remember being told to be modest, well behaved, respectful, polite, walk/sit/stand in a ladylike fashion (can’t do it now, couldn’t do it then… what does it even mean?) … all went alongside wearing my hat in mass and having to go to confession if I thumped Declan Daly. But this all seemed a pretty reasonable method of socialisation of children really, even to me as quite a small child. Bad behaviour elicited punishment. That was the outcome, even if sometimes it seemed disproportionate, or unfair. A lesson in life whichever way you look at it.
Respectability, to me, has overtones of pretence, sham, shame. And in my head, actually I have discovered while working and stitching, nothing much to do with respect.
So… back to the dictionary perhaps…
Respectable = Proper, correct, socially acceptable
Respect = deep admiration for someone elicited by their abilities, qualities or achievements, due regard for the feelings, rights, wishes or traditions of others.
I had teachers that were respectable = they dressed in the proper manner, said the right things when the right people were listening, but a couple of them said things to small children that would make your toes curl. They DIDN’T LIKE CHILDREN.
I also, thank goodness, had teachers that I respected = they could do stuff, they knew things, they were funny (always a winner) they tried to be fair, they LIKED CHILDREN.
Hmmm…
So the things I am drawing and making have everything to do with the sham, the shame, the pretence, the outward appearance as opposed to the inward feeling for how to treat other people, and how to be ourselves.
I think, in hindsight, sending a child out on a bike to fend for themselves, get themselves out of trouble, (stuck up a tree, trying to climb out of a brook that is suddenly running very fast and over the top of your wellies) is a pretty good way to encourage self-reliance, self-respect, self esteem founded in something real, not just the fact that you are surrounded by doting adults who hang on your every utterance as if pearls of wisdom… I certainly didn’t have that, I was pretty far down the pecking order really, although always felt loved and cared for.
What I’m interested in here is the clothing, and by this I don’t JUST mean the textile, I also mean the mask, the voice, the opinions of Respectability.
At the moment, I am exploring the look of it. Trying to recognise it. I expect, in the midst of more obsessive stitching, my brain will come to the why.
