Bunka Gakuen Costume Museum
The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless. Jean-Jacques Rousseau
My fingers tremble at the thought of how much love went into this waistcoat.
By no means was the 18th century costume I just completed anywhere near this level but I know what love looks when written in thread. There were times when I found myself with a pile of taffeta in my lap weeping as the sun rose, a physical reminder of how fast time was running out. There were moments in the darkness of my flat where I found that even bandages couldn’t help my fingers recover and yet I would press on.
But I also remember that moment when I took a step back and actually looked at my finished work. When I realized that there wasn’t anything left to do, there were no strings to cut, nothing to straighten, no wrinkles to smooth. It was finished, over. I spent three years on a degree working towards this moment and I made it. Again I fell to my knees and in the theatre at University I put my face in my hands and wept because I was able to take my love and immortalize it in fabric for the world to view.
So when I look at this I don’t see a pretty piece of fabric, I see the love of a thousand ages stitched carefully thread by thread. A reminder of life and beauty and joy and heartbreak and happiness and I am enthralled.