The Ethos of the Craftsman and the Eclecticism of the Contemporary Fashion Design House

The Historical Roots of South Asian Textiles
Historically, South Asian textiles have always been celebrated for their intrinsic materiality, exquisite craftsmanship and traditional patterns. In discussing the present-day textile designscape of Pakistan, it becomes important to foreground this rich legacy, understand how it has shaped our relationship with textiles and unpack its lasting influence on our design practices.

Regionally, Pakistan’s story of making textiles can be traced to the Indus Civilisation (dated 2500 BC), almost 5,000 years ago. We are introduced to cloth as a covering for the body by way of the Priest-King sculpture, wearing a striking depiction of a trefoil-patterned shawl draped across one shoulder. Archaeological research suggests that Indus men knew how to dye cloth from natural plant sources and decorate it by embroidery or printing. The discovery of dye vats in Mohenjo Daro and pottery shards carrying imprints of woven cloth all allude to a sophisticated understanding of cloth-making. Moving forward, a first-century manuscript records the Indian Subcontinent at the crossroads of a flourishing global trade route that connected Southeast Asia to Europe and Arabia. Rosemary Crill, a textile historian, points out that the finest Indian muslins were a luxurious textile traded as far as ancient Rome and that Indian patterned cottons were an exchange commodity in the spice trade.

By the early to mid-19th century, the material, aesthetic and consumptive value of our textiles was well-established both at home and globally, a testament to the skilled artistry of our craftsmen, who had mastered working with natural resources and refined the indigenous practices handed down to them over several centuries. But what was it about South Asian textiles that had global appeal? These craftsmen were adept at modifying their designs for different markets, making cloth a medium for the exchange of ideas and technology. For instance, the hand-painted kalamkari for local markets was aesthetically different from the chinoiserie-inspired chintz kalamkari, which became extremely fashionable in the West in the 17th century. On the home front, our relationship with textiles was deeply connected to the everyday. Textiles were almost always made to fulfil a functional need. However, beyond this, they also acquired layers of meaning as they were crafted to respond to specific socio-cultural contexts.

Cultural anthropologists Jane Schneider and Annette Weiner, in their seminal essay, Cloth and the Organization of Human Experience, highlight how textiles had organised societies into gendered production, became a source of economic value through trade, attained symbolic and cultural significance in social practices, and shaped the social identity of its wearers. It is these multifaceted dimensions of textiles that, in part, explain our deep-rooted connection to them.

Tracing back, we find two distinct tiers of textile crafting. One was in the sphere of the home and small ethnic communities, where the women would often come together to embroider a phulkari shawl for a bride or create a beautiful ralli to decorate their homes. Here these textiles become a mode of creative expression for their use, embodying a distinct folk visual vocabulary that was meaningful to them. To this day, it is not uncommon for women in our part of the world to know how to cut, sew and embroider their clothes. The second tier of crafting was done by craftsmen whose occupation was to produce textiles. It was the latter who catered to both the local and global demand for textiles, with some forms of production formally patronised in expansive royal workshops. Handcrafted textiles were thus an integral part of pre-modern society, whether as clothes or as artefacts in our spaces, and were representative of the individual and collective choices of the people crafting and using them.

A Visual Language of Tradition
While the indigenous craft practices of the master craftsmen were disrupted and abandoned at the hands of the rampant industrialisation that engulfed the Subcontinent in the late 19th century, the visual language of these traditional historical textiles survived.

A valuable point of reference is a series of archival catalogues titled The Collections of the Textile Manufactures of India compiled by J. Forbes Watson in 1866. Focusing on textiles for clothing, the catalogues contain 700 specimens of handcrafted textiles, documenting the woven, dyed, printed and embellished textiles that were manufactured in 19th century India.

Watson’s objective for compiling these volumes was to educate the British manufacturers about Indian tastes so that the handcrafted textiles could be imitated, reproduced industrially and traded back to India. Leafing through the catalogues, one finds an exhaustive compilation both in terms of materiality and pattern. From the famous diaphanous muslins called ‘baft hawa’ (the woven winds) to lustrous brocaded silks and coarser cotton specimens, the catalogue documents the technical-creative oeuvre of the Indian craftsman. In terms of pattern ornamentation, the specimens range from the vivid plain, striped, lehriya (zigzag) to the more popular floral butis (motifs) to complex all-over jaal (mesh) patterns. Watson was all praise for India’s decorative sensibility, describing it as highly refined, beautiful and with no wasteful or excessive ornamentation, possessing a “quietness and harmony that never fail to fascinate.’’

In Britain, the aesthetics of tradition became a benchmark for good design. The term ‘design’ was coined in the West, within the knowledge circuits of modernity and industrialisation, and yet our craftsmen had been practicing design in every sense of the word for centuries. Scholars confirm that the catalogues were used as a teaching aid and as a visual reference in the newly formed British design schools and technical training institutes that catered to their industry. Notwithstanding the catalogues’ original colonial mercantilist purpose, more than a century and a half later, they are valuable as a corpus of craft knowledge and tangible evidence of what was popularly worn by our people. They capture a cultural portrait in which we see continuities in the present day and serve as a marker to situate and explore the contemporary re-imaginings of tradition.

Reimagining a Traditional Craft Aesthetic for Contemporary Textile Design
In Pakistan’s contemporary textile designscape, tradition and craft are themes that are constantly re-imagined and reinterpreted by leading textile-fashion retail brands. But what is it about tradition or culture that makes it such a good sell? Well, for one, tradition becomes a tool for historical continuity and invokes a sense of belonging and collective cultural memory. The innate familiarity with vibrant hues, patterns, and the rituals of tradition is something that is valued by the consumer. In the words of Homi Bhaba, tradition allows us to ‘self-define’.

This cultural resonance was used to good effect recently when Pakistan was represented by Erica Robin at the Miss Universe contest. One of the ensembles she chose to wear at the pageant was called ‘Pehchaan’. The outfit, conceived and designed by Khaadi, paid homage to the cultural diversity of Pakistan and celebrated our folk craft communities. Fashioning a silhouette inspired by the Balochi abho and the flared Swati kurta, the fully embroidered phulkari tunic with its exaggerated sleeves was paired with a voluminous shimmering ghagra and a six-yard odhani (dupatta), all delicately embellished with thread, tasselled cowry shells, and mirror work. The ensemble with its juxtaposition of folk patterns, creative detailing, and accessorising truly communicated an inclusive cultural ‘identity’ or ‘pehchaan’ to a global audience.

Over the years, textile-fashion brands have successfully commodified the interconnectedness between culture, identity and tradition. Although this is something of a global phenomenon, where Western labels have often exotically appropriated other cultures, in Pakistan the meta-narrative of heritage and culture has impacted everything from luxury couture to high-street fashion. While handcrafted textiles and fashion are appreciated for the authenticity of their process and purity of aesthetic, textiles in the fast-fashion cycle rely on the redesigned/mimetic versions of a traditional aesthetic to appeal to a wider consumer base.

Most leading textile-fashion brands, such as Khaadi, Sapphire, Gul Ahmed-Ideas, Sana Safinaz (and many more), have focused on two distinct domains: the unstitched fabric collections and the ready-to-wear collections. In both categories, they mandatorily use surface prints and industrial embroidery to recreate popular patterns and a traditional ‘look’, whilst simultaneously marketing them through carefully curated campaigns that connect us to our historical past. Craft connoisseurs may feel uncomfortable with this, but the truth is that textile-fashion brands can be given credit for keeping the visuality of craft and tradition alive in the consciousness of their consumers and making it accessible – a key facet of 21st century democratic design.

Fast-paced industrial manufacturing has familiarised a younger audience who have perhaps not experienced craft first-hand with a whole lexicon of tradition and culture. For example, terms such as kantha, mulmul, chikankari, kaamdani, ralli and zardozi are now easily understood and used to describe collections. Coming to the traditional patterns that are popularly reimagined, the keri buti that we now know as the paisley motif and the faux printed dotted chunri patterns are a mainstay and have been showcased in collections every year. Similarly, the single buti compositions found in the Watson catalogues on block-printed cotton and embellished muslins are being used as printed all-over patterns in ‘matching-separates’. Machine-made embroidered chikankari, popularised by labels such as Bareeze and Image Fabrics, have also become a fashion staple and are either sold by the yard or as ready-to-wear kurtis. Yarn-dyed, industrial woven cotton fabrics reminiscent of hand-woven lunghis have been redesigned as woven stripes, ginghams and solid colours, with fashion brands using them as a base for additional surface detailing.

Although the market is saturated with prints, there is a niche demand for authentic craft. From amongst the high street fast fashion brands, Khaadi and Generation have been receptive to this and diversified their designs by showing handcrafted collections for a craft-conscious consumer. Khaadi has a sub-brand by the name of Chapter 2, that designs contemporary handwoven and hand-block printed collections. Similarly, Generation has collaborated with women artisans from South Punjab for hand-embroidered kurtas and embellishments, such as gota work. But what is more interesting is the way these two brands have taken the lead with their overall approach to design.

Globally, a visible shift has taken place in design, making it more experiential, participatory and meaningful. In Pakistan, Khaadi and Generation have provided customers with an all-encompassing design experience by catering to various dimensions of their lifestyles. Khaadi, with its ‘Experience Hub’ stores, has expanded into handcrafted textile jewellery, printed totes, footwear, stationary, home textiles, crockery and fragrances – there is something for everyone. Interestingly, the traditional look continues to be re-appropriated profusely in all these domains. Generation takes a more ‘meaningful’ or context-driven approach, which is evident in their women-centric campaigns and their tapping into popular culture. Their ‘100 ways of using a dupatta’ campaign was very successful as it reflected on the experience and symbolism of how dupattas have been used by women in our region. More recently, they introduced the concept of ‘Dyeables’, selling a range of white dyeable stitched clothing that customers can custom-dye and decorate, allowing them to participate in the design process. Generation also launched a collection of clothes and accessories under the label ‘reGenerate’ that upcycled reclaimed textile fabric. Collectively, these initiatives point to a contemporary design approach that is fashion-forward yet contextualised within a relatable socio-cultural backdrop.

To create meaningful design, Pakistani brands thus need to develop a holistic design philosophy that goes beyond the surface and is representative of our society and resonates with our everyday experiences. The future creative direction of textile-fashion brands in Pakistan seems like it will be more of the same, but perhaps with sustainability being a pressing global issue, it is time to pause, reflect and reimagine the future through the ethos of the craftsman. The indigenous sustainable practices of our first designers, the craftsmen, could once again be instructive and inspire a future technology-driven framework for sustainability, eco-fashion and ethical practice within the field of textiles.

Zeb Bilal is a design educator and researcher. She is an adjunct faculty member at BNU (SVAD) and PIFD, Pakistan. zebtariq@gmail.com