Unwritten: The Implicit Luxury
49
realm of language translates into a vital nomadism, multiform from the standpoint of
expression, planetary from of standpoint of existence” [16]. This knot is for Eielson
his form of expression and being in the world, reflecting his own experience in this
unique way to present his vision of his realm and life as different to many others.
In contrast, Vicuña uses Khipu to show the emptiness experienced when a whole
language and culture is lost, together with our capacity to understand different, more
tactile, languages. For her, the line ( cord) is a trail of communication. She is constantly weaving words and Khipu together to show the loss of meanings when translating into another language. She links Khipu with nature to show the deep connection
that this culture had with natural matters like constellations, stones, mountains or
rivers; thus, explaining that our limitations in understanding these languages come
perhaps from our lack of connection with the natural world. Vicuña believes that
textiles can be read as active texts that play out the on-going intercultural dialogue
of self-determination.
The research into Khipu has been taken further by Quilter and Urton [9] explaining
not just the use and meaning of these knots, but also the different interpretations
through the years. They figured out that black strings signified time and three-plied
fibre of a mixture of yellow, blue, and white symbolised gods. With this information,
it becomes clear that the purpose of this language was not to record things or have a
symbol for every word but to capture things and their whole meaning. Khipu was a
language not based on an alphabet but on narratives, thus having a strong link with
memory and identity.
Sheila Hicks, another artist inspired by Andean cultures, mentioned that these
people mastered the three dimensions and the material creation, and highlighted that
they understood the importance of interacting with fibres and structuring thoughts
with threads and lines. “What does touching the material add? It connects hand, eye
and brain, thus building a triangulation that comes from passion, heart and intellect
inseparably cemented to your times and to your own emotional experiences” [14].
3 Bogolanfini
Bogolanfini, from Mali, Africa, is a compound word comprised of three words of the
Bambara language: bogo means “earth”, lan means “with”, and fini means “cloth”;
Mudcloth. The making of this particular textile is time-consuming as it is entirely
handmade. It is a very long process that can take up to four weeks depending on
the weather. This language is based on local knowledge about natural materials and
symbols, and the way in which varying natural factors could lead to an uncertain
result. Men weaved the cloth and women printed the designs. Women printed them
with symbols that only they could understand, thus providing a form of internal
gender communication that gave them power and strength over men.
Sarah C. Brett Smith, in her text Mudcloth: A women’s art in Mali [3], mentions
that in the past none of the symbols used in this cloth were put into words; textiles
and gestures were sophisticated languages that allowed men and women to come
49
realm of language translates into a vital nomadism, multiform from the standpoint of
expression, planetary from of standpoint of existence” [16]. This knot is for Eielson
his form of expression and being in the world, reflecting his own experience in this
unique way to present his vision of his realm and life as different to many others.
In contrast, Vicuña uses Khipu to show the emptiness experienced when a whole
language and culture is lost, together with our capacity to understand different, more
tactile, languages. For her, the line ( cord) is a trail of communication. She is constantly weaving words and Khipu together to show the loss of meanings when translating into another language. She links Khipu with nature to show the deep connection
that this culture had with natural matters like constellations, stones, mountains or
rivers; thus, explaining that our limitations in understanding these languages come
perhaps from our lack of connection with the natural world. Vicuña believes that
textiles can be read as active texts that play out the on-going intercultural dialogue
of self-determination.
The research into Khipu has been taken further by Quilter and Urton [9] explaining
not just the use and meaning of these knots, but also the different interpretations
through the years. They figured out that black strings signified time and three-plied
fibre of a mixture of yellow, blue, and white symbolised gods. With this information,
it becomes clear that the purpose of this language was not to record things or have a
symbol for every word but to capture things and their whole meaning. Khipu was a
language not based on an alphabet but on narratives, thus having a strong link with
memory and identity.
Sheila Hicks, another artist inspired by Andean cultures, mentioned that these
people mastered the three dimensions and the material creation, and highlighted that
they understood the importance of interacting with fibres and structuring thoughts
with threads and lines. “What does touching the material add? It connects hand, eye
and brain, thus building a triangulation that comes from passion, heart and intellect
inseparably cemented to your times and to your own emotional experiences” [14].
3 Bogolanfini
Bogolanfini, from Mali, Africa, is a compound word comprised of three words of the
Bambara language: bogo means “earth”, lan means “with”, and fini means “cloth”;
Mudcloth. The making of this particular textile is time-consuming as it is entirely
handmade. It is a very long process that can take up to four weeks depending on
the weather. This language is based on local knowledge about natural materials and
symbols, and the way in which varying natural factors could lead to an uncertain
result. Men weaved the cloth and women printed the designs. Women printed them
with symbols that only they could understand, thus providing a form of internal
gender communication that gave them power and strength over men.
Sarah C. Brett Smith, in her text Mudcloth: A women’s art in Mali [3], mentions
that in the past none of the symbols used in this cloth were put into words; textiles
and gestures were sophisticated languages that allowed men and women to come