Longing to Belong

James Lingwood on Mens Suits, 2009
(page 2 of 4)

Photograph by Julian Abrams

To the side of the dummy a circular wooden table is covered with a large number of highly coloured ties, again laid out to be looked at and selected from. They all belong to a single type of clothing, they all have the same basic form and function. But within this conformity to type, each one of them is different, each has its own distinctive style. The careful display has an almost perfect symmetry, but toward the centre of the circle, the immaculate arrangements become entangled, as if someone has fingered the display. It is the first of many moments of visual disruption in the different sections of Mens Suits.

Most kinds of clothing have a primary purpose of covering and protecting. The function of the tie is different. Like a badge it operates only on the secondary level of the sign, to project a potential identity or personality. Collectively the ‘nest’ of ties summons up a certain kind of social structure, one which puts a premium on conformity and a buttoned-up formality, values allegiance, and foregrounds the importance of belonging to a club or group or tribe. If the ‘Homo Erectus’ of the tailor’s dummy is a solitary surrogate figure, standing proud, then the mandala of ties might invoke the homo-erotic rituals of male bonding; the huddle of bodies before a sporting contest, all for one and one for all.

Verticals and horizontals, circles and squares, diagonals and grids recur through every section of the sculpture. The circular motif of the ties finds an echo in the two round display racks, one with brightly coloured casual shirts, the other with a range of men’s suits. Some of them - the loud ones - embody a desire to have a good time, others are more retiring and speak of the need to get on. Do they function as advertisements, or as camouflage, are they revealing or concealing, are they a form of projection or a mode of protection?

All the clothing, as well as their shabby settings, suggests other, unknown lives. The clothes feel like they have been worn, then discarded for some reason or other – disinterest, rejection or death. They have had a life, dressing some body. Everything is mixed up and sorted in a different way, ordinary clothes brought together by a common fate. Handed over or retrieved, they are prepared for somebody else, waiting for another life. They are between states, between places, between bodies.

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