How can we tell if a product is authentically handmade, and why does it matter?
It was a cool, early winter evening in Delhi. A welcome breeze had diluted the horrendous smog that had previously choked the city. On stage, an ensemble of musicians was performing joyous Qawali songs. In front of them paraded lanky models in extraordinary Indian textiles. I can get quickly bored watching endless lines of models walking up and down the catwalk, but this parade was a stunning celebration of textile crafts.
One particular range caught my eye. It was a folkloric ensemble combining bright floral motifs with colourful geometric designs. Looking up the program notes, I read that the designer had incorporated elements from Uzbekistan into his clothes. I pointed this out to my colleague, an expert ikat weaver. He just said one word, “Prints!”. While it was difficult to tell at a distance, he saw immediately that the ikat designs were not handwoven but machine-printed, probably digitally.*
Despite the visual splendour of the designer’s range, the knowledge that it was printed rather than woven cheapened the fashion. Here is the challenge faced by artisans: How many consumers will have the insight or commitment to care if a textile is made authentically by hand, particularly when the machine-made is far cheaper? Many are happy with a bargain despite the relatively sterile appearance. But for those who do want handmade, how can they be sure?
A few days later, I visited the Meandk workshop in Srinagar, Kashmir, where they make authentic pashmina shawls. There, I witnessed Ms. Yasmina spin the gossamer-thin fibre taken from the belly of the mountain goat Capra Hiracus. This helped me appreciate why pashmina shawls are relatively expensive, around $1,000 each. However, the market is notorious for knock-off pashminas made from inferior wool and machine-woven. I asked my hosts how consumers might tell the difference.
They showed me a tag that had been fused to the shawl with a pneumatic-based heat press. The tag contained a QR code. This led me to a web page that contained information about that specific shawl: what it is made from, who made it, and so on. The cost of this is relatively cheap ($3) compared to the retail price of the shawl.
It’s promising to imagine how a system like this could extend to other products. The information could include not just the materials, processes, and artisans but also information about the craft—perhaps even a link to an article in Garland.
The World Crafts Council is currently discussing a global “Seal of Authenticity.” Given the complex administration involved, including verification, fee collection, and web page production, it will be interesting to see how this might expand internationally.
There are some who may say that authenticity is an elite concern: it’s a way for a class of consumer to demonstrate their taste in contrast to those of lower standards. While undemocratic, there are many artisans who would be pleased to appeal to this kind of consumer.
But authenticity has a value beyond elitism. It’s part of human nature to yearn for a “good” world, one where the interests of others are met and life flourishes. This moral desire underpins the “care economy,” which is reflected in the enormous resources spent on beings that depend on our support, including children, pets, and gardens.
Within the “care economy”, we gain pleasure in knowing that there is a link between our purchase and the individual livelihood of the maker. But there’s a caveat. This pleasure can be easily exploited by marketers, as in the overused phrase “handmade with love”. We need confidence that the maker identifies with the production rather than operating machine-like on an assembly line. To this end, the stories in the Garland platform can provide a useful addition to codes such as Kashmir GI verification.
We could wear a digitally printed ikat and hope to receive praise from Instagram followers. But our followers will quickly move on to the next piece of eye candy. However, knowing it is handwoven gives us long-lasting inner satisfaction. We care for it as the maker cared for its production.
Thanks to Sheik Gowhar Nazir for his assistance in researching this article.
On the Other Hand is an exclusive article for Garland Circle members.
Note
* According to an interview with the fashion designer, these clothes were “inspired” by Uzbekistan. She says, “Uzbek ikat has fascinated me for a while… I have used natural fabrics in elaborate patchwork, first weaving the motifs into cotton and silk and later patching them together with embroideries spreading across the horizons, speckled with multi colour glass beads, silver coins, chain stitch and resham-dhaga embroidery in a vast spectrum of colours.” The talented designer is certainly sensitive to Uzbek textile traditions, but the result may have been even more meaningful if Uzbek ikat had been sourced directly.
This collaboration shows how it might be done:
Asif Shaikh and Aziz Murtazaev ✿ A dialogue of print and stitch
