When Fabric Is Where Culture Meets Style By Margo Jefferson The New York Times, December 13, 2005 A few days after seeing "Rara Avis," I went to the Axis Gallery in Chelsea to see "Mfengu: Personal Objects and Textiles from South Africa." It is an elegantly small collection. Skirts, cloaks and headscarves hang on the wall: this is dress as art. It is refined minimalism. (My colleague Holland Cotter cited the delicate severity of Agnes Martin.) The patterns of detailed, whimsical beading made me also think of Paul Klee. And the black headscarves look like constellations, with patterns of pale thread and white buttons that form circular and geometric shapes. It was tempting to think of this art as timeless. But then there was the fabric, which had once come from cattle skin, and had long since been adapted for use as British military blankets. The second room of the gallery was filled with mannequins dressed in 1960's clothes - pleated, wrapped, draped and always marvelously beaded - worn by South African Zulu and Xhosa women. What a glorious mélange of tradition and innovation! Dress had long been a code in these societies; you could tell a woman's ethnicity, age group and marital status from the color, shape and beading of her clothes and by her accessories. But here were beaded sunglasses fit for Bootsy Collins and Elton John, and a beaded headband topped by a western kerchief. Engaged women wrapped beads around thick bands of industrial steel brought to them by fiancés who worked in South Africa's mines. In some cases, glass beads that were once Venetian had given way to state-of-the-art plastic. Necklaces worn by nursing mothers (called "nursing charms") were traditionally made from wood. Now, some resourceful craftswomen were making them from empty syringe cases and toothpaste caps. Western fashion lives by the myth of individuality even when it is dictated ("In: Purple. Out: Turquoise"), duplicated (ready-to-wear clothes) or mass-produced with a brand (Stella McCartney for H & M). How little we know about the individuality of non-Western clothes, especially among groups determined to preserve their traditions. Joan Broster, the fashion historian who collected South African clothes, was a pioneer in the field. Iris Barrel Apfel is truly an original. I expected that, and it delighted me. What I didn't expect - and what delighted me just as much - was the originality to be found among these rural South African women whose names we will never know. Click here for full review. Personal objects and textiles from South Africa By Holland Cotter The New York Times, November 25, 2005 The power of female creativity courses through a small show of South African garments at the Axis Gallery in Manhattan. All but one piece was made by and for women of the Mfengu cultural group. Of several monochromatic skirts, some are white or beige-gray, and one is dyed a dusky ochre, a color associated with the earth, fertility and menstrual blood. In every case, the surfaces are ornamented with lines of beadwork, as fine and taut as compass needles. The minimalist painter Agnes Martin would have adored the elegant probity of this work, and its message of strength in restraint. Click here for full review.