the liar's kittel
“oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive”
A few years ago I co-hosted a Purim party that invited the guests to “come as you’re not. whatever you think you are, whoever that is, come as your opposite, come as your nemesis.” It was great theme. Shy retiring types came as drag queens and flamboyant Prince Charmings. Straight lawyers came as hippies. And there were many nuns and priests. It gave people existential angst “...but who aren’t I...?” in the run-up to Purim, always a good thing. The excuse to dress up and become someone other tapped into secret desires for how we really want to see ourselves. To try out a different reality and be creative and playful with the truth.
In Berashit, some of the characters use clothing to manipulate and trick others. They change the roles they have been given, so that their realities, their stories can be altered. Jacob dresses up as Esau, fools his father into blessing him, and becomes the firstborn son and gains the inheritance he always wanted. Jacob’s sons use Joseph’s torn and bloody coat to spin the story that Joseph is dead. Fulfilling their wish that the favourite son was not around so that they can now receive their father’s love and attention. Tamar disguises herself as a prostitute and Judah sleeps with her, and she gets pregnant, all without him realising her true identity. She transforms from being stuck as a childless widow into reclaiming a life for herself. These are stories of cheating, tricking, lying and disguise. In Hebrew the word beged - garment has links to the verb b’gad - to betray. But these are also stories of people taking control of their story, re-writing it and using clothing to do so. And each of these rewritten stories have become essential episodes in our nation’s narrative.
A good storyteller, a convincing liar, involves the audience in the telling. Spinning the story, a few hints, a small amount of detail information and enlists the listener as a collaborator, and their mind fills in the gaps and allows the story to live. Clothing when worn as a disguise suppresses information about the wearer, and misleads the viewer with hints and misdirections. A mask erases the features and becomes a blank space onto which other identities can be projected. Clothing can be costumes for multiple identities, that can be put on to play the specific role thats needs to be played at that moment. The Purim story is full of characters dressing up to perform their roles, with God hiding in the text. But if costumes can be put on, they can also be removed. Our identities are continually shifting, transitory, and impermanent.
This kittel is built up from a basic shift net dress. The ribbon weaves an optical illusion of a curvaceous figure, as if the garment was tailored to fit an idealised female form. But this garment is unstructured. The lines of ribbon, that begin as loose lines in the bottom converge to form a lace-type lattice tricking the eye into imagining contours. The lace is also transparent, see-through. Because nothing is more revealing of who we really are than the lies we choose to weave.
As to what I wore to the ‘come as you’re not’ party... Well, that would be telling.
A few years ago I co-hosted a Purim party that invited the guests to “come as you’re not. whatever you think you are, whoever that is, come as your opposite, come as your nemesis.” It was great theme. Shy retiring types came as drag queens and flamboyant Prince Charmings. Straight lawyers came as hippies. And there were many nuns and priests. It gave people existential angst “...but who aren’t I...?” in the run-up to Purim, always a good thing. The excuse to dress up and become someone other tapped into secret desires for how we really want to see ourselves. To try out a different reality and be creative and playful with the truth.
In Berashit, some of the characters use clothing to manipulate and trick others. They change the roles they have been given, so that their realities, their stories can be altered. Jacob dresses up as Esau, fools his father into blessing him, and becomes the firstborn son and gains the inheritance he always wanted. Jacob’s sons use Joseph’s torn and bloody coat to spin the story that Joseph is dead. Fulfilling their wish that the favourite son was not around so that they can now receive their father’s love and attention. Tamar disguises herself as a prostitute and Judah sleeps with her, and she gets pregnant, all without him realising her true identity. She transforms from being stuck as a childless widow into reclaiming a life for herself. These are stories of cheating, tricking, lying and disguise. In Hebrew the word beged - garment has links to the verb b’gad - to betray. But these are also stories of people taking control of their story, re-writing it and using clothing to do so. And each of these rewritten stories have become essential episodes in our nation’s narrative.
A good storyteller, a convincing liar, involves the audience in the telling. Spinning the story, a few hints, a small amount of detail information and enlists the listener as a collaborator, and their mind fills in the gaps and allows the story to live. Clothing when worn as a disguise suppresses information about the wearer, and misleads the viewer with hints and misdirections. A mask erases the features and becomes a blank space onto which other identities can be projected. Clothing can be costumes for multiple identities, that can be put on to play the specific role thats needs to be played at that moment. The Purim story is full of characters dressing up to perform their roles, with God hiding in the text. But if costumes can be put on, they can also be removed. Our identities are continually shifting, transitory, and impermanent.
This kittel is built up from a basic shift net dress. The ribbon weaves an optical illusion of a curvaceous figure, as if the garment was tailored to fit an idealised female form. But this garment is unstructured. The lines of ribbon, that begin as loose lines in the bottom converge to form a lace-type lattice tricking the eye into imagining contours. The lace is also transparent, see-through. Because nothing is more revealing of who we really are than the lies we choose to weave.
As to what I wore to the ‘come as you’re not’ party... Well, that would be telling.
