Anne Roberts, winner of the History of Art and Design programme’s 2019-20 Dissertation Prize, reflects on her subject and its delivery under Covid conditions.

What did you do during lockdown? Perhaps you rediscovered a hobby, took up yoga or home-schooled your family? Amidst all the confusion in society I was still completing my University dissertation, for submission in May, as part of my BA in Fashion and Dress History. In the uncertain days of early lockdown, I had struggled to find motivation in what felt like Armageddon. It was a challenge to balance the demands of the ‘new normal’ with the ongoing rigour of academic drafting. For me and many of my friends, ‘getting it in’ suddenly meant something even more challenging than before, and under such circumstances I never dreamt that my dissertation might win a prize. My hurriedly changed surroundings in the countryside also seemed a world away from Brighton’s support network, and in the rush to lockdown I had left behind all of my primary source material and many of my research papers.

Figure 1. A selection of aprons made using Dorset Feather Stitch. C. 1950s. KOP Collection. Dorset County Museum, Dorchester. Personal photograph by the author. 8 July 2019.

However, after a few weeks of adjustment, my dissertation stopped being a torment and actually became a welcome form of lockdown solace, providing me with clear objectives and  a fixed submission date. Louise Purbrick’s blog post for the Centre for Design History described her realisation that world events had made her teaching appear more relevant, and I had the same sensation about my dissertation subject. Suddenly, in lockdown, so many women were starting to sew, discovering that embroidery could provide them with a pleasurable pastime at home. This neatly, if rather disconcertingly, reflected some of my own dissertation conclusions which asserted that upheaval and uncertainly could act as a catalyst for female creative endeavour.

My choice of subject had originally been inspired by my own curiosity about local references in my West Dorset village to something called Dorset Feather Stitch. Research in Dorset County Museum last summer led me to hundreds of examples of this beautiful embroidery, alongside many boxes of related leaflets, photographs and notebooks.  I remember being completely daunted by the sheer amount of ‘stuff’ that I had to try and make sense of in a very limited time frame. When I came back to Brighton in September 2019, I  consulted a wide range of primary source material, and relevant academic theories, to uncover and explain the origins of Dorset Feather Stitchery. To find out how the craft was developed, I studied the relevance of the Women’s Institute movement, embroidery as a gendered practice and the importance of Dorset as an imagined space to the women who lived there. As little had been written about the practice, I realised that I would not be able to reference anyone else’s research and that my conclusions would be my own.

Figure 2. Mary Welshman. Apron detail. C. 1950s. KOP Collection, Dorset County Museum, Dorchester. Acc.no. 2007.228. Box D. Personal Photograph by the author. 8 July 2019.

My dissertation, entitled Stitched in Place: The Origins and Development of Dorset Feather Stitch 1945-1970, argued that Dorset Feather Stitch was not just an enjoyable pastime, but also an expression of subtle feminism within a traditional rural society. The women who stitched it were inspired by its originator, Olive Pass, to engage in a practice that was defined by social purpose and female values, evidenced within the confines of a traditional rural society. My research discovered that Dorset Feather Stitch was indirectly influenced by both the Arts and Crafts movement and the Peasant Art movement, and that Pass had combined her interest in Balkan craftsmanship with English rural craft skills to create a new hybrid style of embroidery. Described in 1951 as a ‘revival’, Dorset Feather Stitch was actually a re-imagined tradition, developed solely by women for women, which combined a strong sense of social purpose with female intentionality and craft skill.

Figure 3. Detail of a photograph of Olive Pass and two of her daughters. Undated. KOP collection, Dorset County Museum, Dorchester. Archival photograph by the author. 24 June 2019.

I really enjoyed researching my dissertation and, now that the print shops have finally re-opened, I intend to give a copy of my findings to the Dorset County Museum. I hope that my research conclusions might encourage them to mount a permanent display of Dorset Feather Stitch, as it is a unique example of post-war creativity which can be identified with many of the individual Dorset women who created it.

I intend to return to Brighton to study for a History of Design and Material Culture MA and hope to further develop my academic research and writing skills.  Having found out that Dorset Feather Stitch was also practised in Africa, Canada, and New Zealand, I would like to research the reasons for the export of this uniquely English cultural practice. It might also be interesting to test my theories by interviewing some Dorset women, who remember being taught the work as teenagers.

Fig. 4. Some of the Women who made and sold Feather Stitchery in Dorchester in 1951. KOP Collection. Dorset County Museum, Dorchester. Archival photograph by the author. 24 June 2019.

In this Covid environment I shall have to adjust to Uni life happening online, but I am looking forward to a resumption of at least some kind of teaching normality. I can’t wait to get back into the library! As a result of my dissertation experience I am particularly interested in uncovering more stories of women’s lives through objects that may have been overlooked in museum collections.

Charlotte Andora Hylland, an Erasmus exchange student from University of Oslo, details her experience at the University of Brighton in the History of Art and Design programme.

As a Norwegian, it’s hard not to be fascinated by England, as samplings of British culture is so present in our own. Our second-grade teachers ask us “What’s the weather like today?” in the most English accent they can muster; our parents read Harry Potter to us on our bedside and Christmas isn’t really Christmas until the whole family has sat down together to watch Dinner for One. My own personal fascination with English royal history, as well as the faint hope that my Hogwarts letter had simply been lost in the post, made my choice to be an Erasmus exchange student in Brighton quite an easy one.

Poached eggs and tea: my very first English meal in Brighton.

I remember the feeling of standing on the train station about to board the train to Brighton. I was nervous, excited, terrified and quite frankly clueless. I had never been to the city before, I had no idea how Oyster cards work (and still don’t), and I didn’t know where the University was. This is one of the first things I learned about English people. They are always ready to help you! Norwegians are notoriously shy, held back and highly allergic to confrontation. We might consider someone asking us for the seat next to us on the bus to be a confrontational situation. We are private people who don’t generally talk to strangers. But I had no idea what bus to take to the University or where I could get groceries, and so I simply had to put the lid on my Scandinavian anxieties and ask. English people are rumoured to be very polite and, in this instance, I was not disappointed.

Before long, the hiccups began. First, I learned that the University of Brighton has to separate campuses. The City Campus and the Falmer Campus. Depending on the modules you sign up for, you either attend the City Campus in the city centre, or you attend the Falmer Campus on the countryside of Brighton, roughly 35 minutes away from the city by bus. My modules were Women’s Fashion from 1740-1914, The Cultural Politics of Dress and After Modernism: Postmodernism and Beyond, modules from the first and second year of the BA programme in History of Art and Design. This meant that I was to attend the City Campus. I had, however unknowingly, applied for student accommodation at Paddock Field Halls near the Falmer Campus. Furthermore, when I arrived at the accommodation office at Paddock Fields, there was no sign of my application for a room. After a few hours, they did find a room for me, and things were looking better. And then, later that evening, I got very ill. I was ill for days, which resulted in my not being able to attend activities for the exchange students to get to know each other.

Watching the waves on Brighton beach.

The reason I mention this, is that Dr. Annebella Pollen, Principal Lecturer in the History of Art and Design programme, as well as Bernie Happs, the programme administrator, made such an effort to make me feel welcome when I felt like the city and the exchange experience was rejecting me like a bad organ transplant. As I missed out on the activities for exchange students in Brighton, Annebella made sure some of the students got in touch to meet with me later on. When I confessed I wasn’t happy living in Paddock Field halls, she was very hands-on in finding me different accommodation. Any student who decides to exchange to the University of Brighton can rest assured that they will be well taken care of!

In Brighton, a lot of things are different from Oslo. I am not used to thanking the driver when I exit a bus, I am not used to be called “darling” or “love” by people I don’t know. I gradually got used to poached eggs, but I never quite got over my fear of sounding like the Norwegian Nobel Committee every time I opened my mouth. But the thing I find differs the most is the educational structure. To be frank, at the University of Oslo, students are responsible for themselves. You sign up for modules, buy the books, study independently and attend lectures in huge lecture halls. No one keeps track of you, and your learning outcome depends on you. I found the academic studies at the University of Brighton to be more seminar-based. In all three of my modules, our class would consist of roughly 10-15 students who had all read the recommended reading and came prepared to discuss it. My tutors at Brighton seemed genuinely interested in discussing and digesting the material together with the students, and have us think like actual historians, rather than have us memorize the material. In Norway I am used to being one of sometimes a hundred other students in a lecture hall where no one asks questions (because we are Norwegian). At the University of Brighton, you are not only encouraged to ask questions and participate, you are expected to and assessed on it. This was a challenge for me at first but I found that I learned so much more from this way of teaching.

Charlotte Andorra Hylland outside the Royal Pavilion, Brighton.

My time attending the University of Brighton was sadly cut short due to the outbreak of the COVID-19 virus. I had to rush back to Oslo after only five weeks in Brighton. But in those five weeks I got to meet so many wonderful people and make so many friends for life. My roommate from Brighton and I still keep in touch and my tutors were such an inspiration especially as they took me to Brighton Museum to introduce me to some wonderful exhibitions. I am so sad I had to leave early. Still, I think the University did a great job, keeping the academic semester on track via the conference app “Microsoft Teams”. I was luckily able to finish all my modules.

I learned a lot from my stay in Brighton. I learned the value of reaching out to find people are there to help you. I’ve learned the joys of exposing myself to a different culture and making friends across borders. In all, I advise all students to consider taking the exchange experience.

Annebella Pollen, History of Art and Design co-Academic Programme Leader, introduces a recent competition and announces its winners.

With access to museums and galleries closed, not to mention libraries and universities, how are History of Art and Design programme students staying close to their subjects? In recognition of the unique challenges facing our current cohort of students and as a fun activity to lighten the mood in these difficult times, History of Art and Design staff recently invited our undergraduates to recreate famous art works at home. We were inspired by similar artistic challenges taking place in other cultural institutions, for example, the invitation to recreate, with domestic objects alone, art housed in the J. Paul Getty Museum, Vogue magazine’s call to restage famous red-carpet outfits from the history of the Met Gala and, my personal favourite, the spontaneous efforts made to mimic kitsch submissions to the cult Facebook site Terrible Art in Charity Shops.

We were not sure if any students would have the time and space to take up this invitation; we are aware that many are facing major personal and practical challenges brought by the enormous changes of circumstances resulting from the global pandemic. Students have dispersed across the world and are contained in their homes and gardens. We were delighted, therefore, to receive two submissions to the competition, particularly as both were of excellent quality. To our surprise and delight, the submissions unwittingly formed a pair. Both are inspired by Pre-Raphaelite paintings. In reverse order, then, I am pleased to announce our competition winners.

Annie Jones, The Soul of the Rose in Quarantine, photograph, 2020.

In second place, with a wonderful updating of J. W. Waterhouse’s 1908 painting The Soul of the Rose, is Annie Jones, second year BA Visual Culture. In the original painting, an auburn haired young woman with a peaches-and-cream complexion leans against a terracotta wall to inhale deeply the scent of a pink rose in full bloom. Dressed in a wide-sleeved robe, against a background of whitewashed walls and tiled roofs, the subject demonstrates Pre-Raphaelite preoccupations with colour, sensuality and literary inspirations (the title comes from a Tennyson poem).

Annie’s recreation, retitled The Soul of the Rose in Quarantine, has stayed faithful to many details, with a pink rose, a string of pearls loosely entwined through the subject’s auburn hair, a deep-sleeved chinoiserie-style dressing gown in place of a robe, and a terracotta brick wall. The structures in the background – including a chimney and wooden door – signal its British lockdown setting. The detail of Annie’s tattooed forearm adds a neat twenty-first century reboot. It is an excellent contribution, and a fitting partner to the winning submission.

Olivia Terry, Ophelia, photograph, 2020 (photo credit: Stacie Ruth).

Olivia Terry, second year BA Fashion and Dress History, also chose a famous Pre-Raphaelite painting for her  recreation. Sir John Everett Millais’ 1851-2 Ophelia is one of the most beloved works of the stylistic school and the most popular painting in Tate Britain’s collection. Depicting the tragic death by drowning of a character from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the painting was famously composed by posing its model, Elizabeth Siddal, in a tin bath of cooling water. Olivia’s recreation shows a similar commitment to art at the risk of health, as she impressively took to the waters in a creek in her backyard wrapped only in a bed sheet. Surrounded by rocks and foliage, in Olivia’s native Idaho rather than in Surrey, she clasps a bunch of flowers to indicate Ophelia’s final actions before her poetic demise, and to take first prize in the competition.

We are very pleased with the imaginative way that both these entries took up the challenge. We are also very pleased to reward both winners with book token prizes for their excellent artistic reinterpretations. Bravo!

BA Fashion and Dress History student, Katy Crawford, details how she built a profile in volunteer textile conservation to support her career plans.

After stumbling across some painting conservation videos and being completely mesmerised by the process of conserving, preserving and sometimes restoring objects, I wondered if this career path might align with my own interest in fashion and dress, and that is when I discovered textile conservation.

After researching how I could pursue this journey in March 2019, I discovered the only dedicated Textile Conservation qualification is at the University of Glasgow. I knew instantly that this is where I wanted to be after my finishing my BA, but the entry requirements were tough and after speaking to previous and current students, I knew I had my work cut out. There is no doubt that the experience and contacts I gained through volunteering helped me gain a place on my dream master’s degree.

Figure 1: Using an ergo hoover and nylon mesh (to avoid direct contact with the textile) to clean the Acanthus bedspread of a year’s worth of dust. Standen National Trust. Personal photograph of the author. 17th July 2019.

I first contacted the National Trust properties, Nymans and Standen House and Garden, who were delighted to help me in preparation for my master’s application. Through volunteering I gained an introduction to conservation and was able to build my skillset in an environment where there was very little pressure and I had the luxury to simply learn from others. I completed morning cleans, deep cleans and aided in the general upkeep of the house. I also learnt about pests, how to handle and condition check specific objects, and how to talk to visitors about conservation and all the work that goes on behind the scenes.

Volunteering not only expands your skills but also provides you with access to an experience that the general public don’t get. At Standen I carried out an extensive project where I condition reported and pest checked over forty textile items. This included the Acanthus bedspread made by Morris & Co. in 1890, making it conceivable that May Morris herself supervised the work completed on it! At Standen, I was able to view and handle their wonderful Arts and Crafts textile collection, a luxury I earned through gaining the trust of the conservation team.

In addition, I have gained a tremendous amount of contacts by volunteering. Through Nymans I was lucky enough to visit Zenzie Tinker’s conservation studio in Brighton, where I gained invaluable advice from Zenzie and members of her staff who had also completed the Glasgow master’s qualification. I later completed a course with Zenzie on the conservation of electra beetle wing, an insect element sometimes used in fashion and textiles. This in turn put me in touch with further conservators and students. During the Professional Paths module in the final year of my Fashion and Dress History degree, I focused on textile conservation as a career. I was able to interview Zenzie for my final essay, which not only helped me improve my grade but strengthened my relationship with a professional contact.

Figure 2: Inspecting one of the Tulip hangings for pests and signs of new damage. Standen National Trust. Personal photograph of the author. 31st July 2019.

For many, the ultimate goal of volunteering is for it to lead to paid work, and it is possible! After a few months volunteering with Standen, a member of their conservation team handed in their notice and I was offered some paid work while they interviewed for a replacement. This was an incredible opportunity which I would not have received had I not already shown my capabilities through volunteering. I was even encouraged to apply for the full-time role, which I would have been delighted to do had it not clashed with university commitments.

I wholeheartedly encourage students to talk to your university tutors about your career plans. Through my course tutor, Dr Veronica Isaac, I was able to visit the V&A textile conservation studio. This was something I had attempted to do myself with no luck, highlighting how you should make the most of your tutors’ contacts. While visiting, I asked if I could volunteer and the answer was yes! This is an ideal example of ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get!’ Putting yourself forward demonstrates your commitment and may lead to other opportunities. My experience at the V&A was sadly cut short due to coronavirus but I was able to help with the current decant project, making new storage supports and improving old supports for women’s sixteenth-century hats.

If I could summarise my journey, I would say that volunteering will never be a waste of time. You get the opportunity to expand your skillset, gain hands-on experience and contacts, and maybe even gain paid work. Everywhere I have volunteered I have met someone new, which has led to more places to visit and even more people to meet. Through contacts at the National Trust, I have visited Knole conservation studio, where I did my first interventive conservation work (assessing collections damage), and later this year I will be visiting the National Trust’s dedicated textile conservation studio for a week-long placement. Through contacts at the V&A, I will be visiting the textile conservation studio at the Museum of London. All of these visits and opportunities were made possible through volunteering and being able to name-drop the contacts I have gained over the past year.

BA History of Art and Design student, Hannah Kempster, reflects on the value that a breakthrough prize has had for her confidence and career development.

I was very excited to find out that I had won the Anne Clements Breakthrough Award for my grades during the second year of my History of Art and Design degree. I hadn’t been aware of the award in advance, so I was extremely surprised to find out that I had won it. I loved the second year of the course and had wonderful experiences such as a trip to the Tate Modern, and a voluntary placement at Volk’s Electric Railway. Winning this prize felt like a fantastic end to a great year.

Breakthrough awards are given to second year undergraduate students to support and encourage them through what can be a challenging phase of their studies. The university also holds an annual celebration event for students and donors to celebrate the awards that are given in all subject areas. This is also an opportunity for donors to meet the winners of their prizes, and to see the impact that the awards can make in students’ lives. During the speeches, we were regaled with stories of the many ways the funds had been used. It was amazing to hear how students had used the awards for diverse projects including trips abroad and business start-ups. I left the evening feeling inspired and in awe of the amazing work that students are undertaking alongside their studies.

Hannah with other University of Brighton student award-winners, and the Vice Chancellor, at the annual celebration event, 18 February 2020.

Anne was sadly unable to come to the celebration evening, so I didn’t get a chance to thank her personally. However, her daughter Fiona was attendance. Fiona told me that Anne had had a career in design history and as a result wanted to support scholars in the same field. I am extremely grateful to Anne for this support. Winning an award represents not only financial backing, but a huge boost to my confidence. It gave me renewed enthusiasm and encouragement going into the final year of my studies.

Like many of my peers, I have had to work alongside my degree to support myself financially. The funds have allowed me to have some much needed time off work while I completed my final assignments and dissertation. While I had originally planned to also use the time to gain more work experience to enhance my employability, lockdown hasn’t allowed for this. This has been a blessing in disguise however, as I reflected on my career options and have decided to train to become a teacher. I am very pleased to say that I have accepted a place for next year to train to teach secondary school history. I am hugely grateful to Anne for the award, and the financial support that has allowed me the space and time to work on my studies. It has also given me the confidence and encouragement to pursue a career I know I will love.