Friday, January 27, 2012

In Memoriam . . .


One of my inspirations has died.

You may never have heard of her. I sometimes forget that not everyone is as deeply into film costuming as I am, and I assume my readers have the same familiarities with famous costumers that I do. You may not have known her name, but I guarantee you know her work.

From Dracula

Eiko Ishioka was not a costume designer by trade. She did not sew. She did not construct garments, or even seek to have much understanding of how garment construction worked. But she was an artist, and she designed things in fabric that made you gasp. I first saw her work when I was 12 years old, and it changed the way I looked at film costuming forever. Her designs for Bram Stoker's Dracula were stunning, to say the least: the costumes transcended the historical constraints of the setting and gave life to the darker symbolism in the story. Dracula wore rivers of blood, and seemed to be skinned, his muscles exposed. Lucy, turned into a vampire, was a predatory lizard in white silk. Garments were embroidered with dragons and snakes and leaves, all to give you insight into the characters who wore them. I learned an important lessons from her: costumes are not just what characters wear. Costumes tell you who a character is.

From The Fall

Eiko collaborated several times with Tarsem Singh, designing four of his films, and all visual tour-des-forces: The Cell, The Fall, Immortals, and Mirror, Mirror (yet to be released). Her costumes in each push the boundaries of what film costuming means, almost becoming characters in themselves. She showed Eastern influences in many of her designs, but really her style conforms to no period and no map. It was simply Eiko.

From The Cell

From Varekai

She worked once with Cirque Du Soleil in a partnership that seemed inevitable: the costumes for Varekai were strange blends of lizard and bird, rooted to the ground and flying through the air, a mix that should not have worked. But, the fins and feathers married well, and the results were astonishing.

From Dracula

From The Cell

From Mirror, Mirror

From Spiderman

Her last two efforts, completed while she was battling pancreatic cancer, were collaborations with two demanding directors: once again she worked with Tarsem on Mirror, Mirror, and she designed the costumes for Julie Taymor's Spiderman: Turn off the Dark. You could not find two more different projects, but Eiko's stamp is obvious on each: Spiderman shows her penchant for biological dismorphism and insanely bright colors; the characters sprout spikes and wear their muscles on the outside, terrifying and beautiful. And Mirror, Mirror returns to the territory she walked for Dracula, with garments that bridge the gap between historical and fantasy in richly saturated colors and covered in embroidered motifs.

I am deeply saddened that such a great and visionary artist has been lost. She is one of the reasons I got into this business, and I can honestly say that the business of film costume will not be the same without her.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

A Tall Ship and a Star to Steer Her By . . .

via here

Okay, I have a dirty confession to make.

I think I figured out why I'm single: because my heart already belongs to someone. When I was 11, I went to see "The Rocketeer" at a vintage theatre in Chicago, and amid the peeling paint and faded gradeur, I fell for my first crush: Billy Campbell. Oh, to my 11-year-old heart he was perfect: square jaw, tall, dark, and handsome, funny, and unassumingly dashing.

I grew up, as people unfailingly do. I followed his career over the years, watching him in little scifi films ("the Cold Equations" was actually pretty good), failed television shows (I liked "Moon Over Miami"!), and odd movie choices ("Enough"?). But, he was always the same, dashing and funny and easy on the eyes, and my 11-year-old heart never quite got over him.

Then, a few years back, I read an interview he gave where he discussed his love of tall ships, and his desire to take time off from acting to sail on them. Gulp. Needless to say, my 11-year-old heart caught up with my twenty-something brain, and my crush blossomed. Sigh.

I met him once, and behaved slightly better than a drooling idiot, though not by much: the ship he chose to sail on was the beautiful Picton Castle, an impressive three-masted barque that is a real working ship, not just a floating museum like so many are these days. The tall ships came to Navy Pier and I spotted him on the deck, looking scruffy but instantly recognizable to a crazy person like me. He was gracious and agreed to a picture, and I tried not to say anything embarrassing. I think I succeeded, but my memories of that meeting are not terribly clear;)


Now, Billy is the proud owner of his own schooner, which he has named after his grandmother (seriously, the guy is so ridiculously sweet). Campbell decided to have his own ship for several reasons, not limited to his love of sailing: the builders are friends and colleagues from the Picton Castle, and the port in Lunenberg is struggling and hoping for revitilization. Campbell's ship, the Martha Seabury, has a twin that is yet available, and I swear if I won the lottery tomorrow that ship would be mine;)

Yes, it is a childhood crush, with all its silly fancies and girlish daydreams. But, my heart--my 11-year-old heart, anyway--belongs to Billy Campbell, and it always will.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Big, Big Day!

In case you missed this, The Hunger Games opens next month, and I'm uber-excited. Not just to see one of my favorite YA series come to life, but for the clothes, y'all;)

Effie Trinket, Capitol PR maven, in charge of making the possible-murder of her tributes look as shiny and pretty as possible, looks to be the front-runner in my race to choose what costume I will do for SDCC this year (I am going, dammit!) My chief difficulty may come in choosing from her myriad looks!


Whenever I start to look into reproducing a costume, I look to every possible source of research and material on the original. The folks behind the film just handed me a big one, all wrapped up in a asparkly bow: Capitol Couture.

The marketers for the film have made this faux-fashion magazine highlighting the wild couture the folks in the Capitol don, and as a source, it is fantastic. The GIF above is just one example: I get to see the entire costume, including shoes, and I even get to find out who made them (Alexander McQueen, as it happens). I LOVE that the costume designer on this film used some real designers ("vintage", for the purposes of the story); it gives it a very identifiable "fashionista" feel.




I can't wait to see the film in March. Stay tuned for my choice for Comic Con (if I can choose just one!)

Monday, January 23, 2012

Look, I Made a Hat!


This weekend saw the start of preparations for the Air Raid of 1942 at Fort MacArthur (yes, I have until the middle of February, but why not start early?). I made a hat after Vogue 7464, though, for an extra-fun challenge, I didn't actually buy the pattern. Silly, that's for amateurs;) Instead, I used the instructions I found here.


It worked out okay for me, but I don't recommend this technique unless you want to fight with your felt. I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to actually use this hat at the event, but you'll have to stay tuned and see . . .