Understanding the Unseen
There is a certain magic to the art of discovery. Sifting through a plethora of ornamental objects, keepsakes, tiny treasures, mementos or souvenirs in our homes, wardrobes, attics, local shops and thrift stores can offer bundles of joy and inspiration, decoration, and memories for years to come. The consequences of consumer habits aside, discovering objects unknown to us can incite pleasure at seeing what was once unseen, at being able to cherish and care for, touch, smell, and hear the new and novel. It calls at our curiosity. Imagine opening a neatly wrapped parcel with endless numbers of treasures inside; the treasure being up to you to define. I am not referring in this instance to the discovery of historical objects; coming across new sources in your research, "new" historical objects that you have never crossed paths with, or finding them in your home (a crucial aspect in the process of discovering deliberately concealed objects, as I will discuss later). Instead, I refer to the act of unveiling what you thought was once known to you, revealing objects once forgotten and now bursting with memories; what has been put to the side - out of sight and out of mind - to then be discovered all over again. This can be in places all too familiar to you, which now surprise and reveal the deep emotional connections that we as people can hold for physical objects bounding across time and (cliché, I know) space.
Let us consider the emotional depths of an object and its history. That feeling of pleasure and novelty at discovering an abundance of objects, whether it is clothes and accessories, jewellery, ceramics, paintings and art, glassware, whatever it may be, can sometimes be a shallow feeling when deeper meaning, functionality, or cultural relevance is not considered. There may be a multitude of emotions unearthed with the discovery, or rediscovery, of an object. An heirloom, for example, can offer a sense of lineage and family to the receiver alongside emotions of love, grief, and sadness. If you were to go up into your attic at this moment, whether it is in your own house or your parent's house, to search around the boxes, what would you find? Nostalgia of days gone past? Souvenirs from one of your many adventures? Memories of love especially may be represented by a wedding dress, baby clothes or christening robes. Perhaps you found a box full of clothes your grandmother used to own and wear when she was a teenager. Garments and textiles can represent generations of people, traditions, and a sense of growth - from tablecloths, curtains, baby blankets, and embroidered cushions to upcycled dresses, hats, gloves, and valuable jewellery. There is a deep understanding of connection, love and family when we consider the history of these kinds of objects. They are personal, and they permeate through layers of history, generations of memories, milestones, and changing minds.
And they begin in the home. Whether it be the family home passed down through generations, or one you have made for yourself, this sense of family and history can pass from house to house through the connection of people and their possessions. A home is a precious space for both our own physical security and our spiritual one; to know that you may return to where your heart and mind lies, where your loved ones reside, where you may seek safety and respite from the external world is a reassuring and settling feeling. Homes and houses ground us physically within our external and internal social spaces and act as boundaries to the emotional - they are armed with a hoard of personal possessions, trophies, souvenirs, and decorations that reflect ourselves and our personal journeys through life. They are treasure troves for the keen exploration of an outside observer, but they are also a necessary comfort, a practicality, an emotional landscape, a painter's canvas for the resident to pick and choose as they wish. And objects, large and small, may be their paint or medium of choice. We are not always given intimate access to the homes of others and the objects that may lie within. Such would be an invasion. But these possessions are what remain behind when we pass on and so they can be seen or discovered in our homes or houses whose past residents have chosen to leave a piece of themselves behind for discovery.
These traces of the past can remain hidden and secret for years to come, until they are rediscovered and seen again by new eyes. They can manifest as old floral wallpapers, used in the original construction of the house, trapped underneath layers of paint and (you guessed it) more wallpaper. Original tiling or wooden floors may be concealed beneath carpets, vinyl or linoleum. A photograph or newspaper clipping may be found tucked snugly behind a fireplace; a message written on the plaster before the paper was applied; seemingly random objects and tools left at the bottom of a cupboard or the back of a drawer; and old discarded items left in boxes in the attic from previous owners who have sold the house and moved on. Many of these items may not be considered as deliberately concealed objects, but they are still remnants of people and the past who have used a common space functionally to live as emotional physical beings. We can understand the need to leave our mark, to say goodbye to a part of our past spent in homes full of memories and our own personal journeys. And even when there is no intention to leave something behind, we may still manage it from our being there.
This has been far from a definition of deliberately concealed garments, rather instead an introduction to the complex relationships that occur between the intimate spaces of our homes, our emotional experiences full of memory and physical feeling, and the objects which we possess. Not only that, but also the role that discovery plays in finding deliberately concealed objects. Many of these unseen aspects of our homes are only discovered through renovation and building works - knocking down walls, ripping down wallpaper, and unearthing floors. What has been deliberately concealed is very much made and found in the same way. Shoes have been commonly found and placed behind fireplaces when new ones are built or knocked down. There may be a cavity in the wall or a space between floors of a house made for the storage of items, which are later revealed when new construction begins. The act of building and rebuilding done centuries apart can often reveal more than what was expected. And what is found can often be dirty and torn beyond repair; just a part of the dust and debris made in the foundations of a house.
At the centre of this is the intention to conceal deliberately, with purpose, which at presently is only discernible through the objects themselves, the methods of concealment, and folkloric traditions. With the absence of any written documentation explaining or describing concealment practices for clothes and other items, it comes down to understanding the unseen and their place in historical buildings as hidden objects. Thankfully, clothes and shoes are made up of fabrics and stitches, colours and patterns, all cut and made for the wearer. Despite the lack of words, they may be read and their components interpreted.
Deliberately concealed objects for a long time have been considered as objects of magic that act as apotropaic devices for the protection of a house and its inhabitants. Whilst clothing and shoes can certainly be read in much the same way, there have been instances of deliberately concealed garments with either ambiguous circumstances (and so possibly concealed for other purposes) or have been concealed for storage or waste disposal. This is a subject which I will undoubtedly broaden on in the upcoming weeks, but for now, you may see that there are plenty of educational posts out there on Instagram and other platforms covering apotropaic markings, mummified cats, and protection against witchcraft as Halloween approaches. I will be sharing some on my Instagram stories if you are interested in reading more.