Deborah Dryden, one of regional theatre’s most gifted artisans and a pioneer of its rich costume painting and dying tradition, has managed to sandwich her years of experience and considerable talents into one invaluable, well-organized book, Fabric Painting and Dying for the Theatre (part of a series by Heinemann that includes the already-classic The Costume Designers Handbook and The Costume Technicians Handbook). It includes chapters on traditional theatre painting and dying techniques (aging and distress ing, shading, ombreing, etc.) as well as some not-so-familiar techniques (like shibori, batik, marbling, photographic silk screening and photo-transfer printing).
Cover to cover the book is jam-packed with useful information – there are numerous step-by-step photos and illustrations – but the great strength of Dryden’s undertaking is that it presents the designer and dyer with a wealth of possibility. Designers are consistently called on to make larger and larger purses out of smaller and smaller sow’s ears, and Dryden’s great gift offers a whole new set of tools with which to try and make these visual miracles happen. It is a long overdue, priceless resource for painters, designers and shop managers alike.
Also inspirational, though perhaps with a slightly less general appeal, is Mongol Costumes, an updated and lavishly illustrated re-issue of a classic 1950s text from Denmark. More than just a beautiful and detailed catalogue of Mongolian garments, the book is an exhaustive, though somewhat dry, anthropology of a people from the outside in … sort of a Mongolian companion to Alison Lurie’s Language of Clothes. Like Lurie’s text, one ultimately wishes the research were more sociological – a bit more about the “why” of it all – but as a visual and historic record of Mongolian, nomadic dress, there is surely no better resource.
Deborah Dryden, one of regional theatre’s most gifted artisans and a pioneer of its rich costume painting and dying tradition, has managed to sandwich her years of experience and considerable talents into one invaluable, well-organized book, Fabric Painting and Dying for the Theatre (part of a series by Heinemann that includes the already-classic The Costume Designers Handbook and The Costume Technicians Handbook). It includes chapters on traditional theatre painting and dying techniques (aging and distress ing, shading, ombreing, etc.) as well as some not-so-familiar techniques (like shibori, batik, marbling, photographic silk screening and photo-transfer printing).
Cover to cover the book is jam-packed with useful information – there are numerous step-by-step photos and illustrations – but the great strength of Dryden’s undertaking is that it presents the designer and dyer with a wealth of possibility. Designers are consistently called on to make larger and larger purses out of smaller and smaller sow’s ears, and Dryden’s great gift offers a whole new set of tools with which to try and make these visual miracles happen. It is a long overdue, priceless resource for painters, designers and shop managers alike.
Also inspirational, though perhaps with a slightly less general appeal, is Mongol Costumes, an updated and lavishly illustrated re-issue of a classic 1950s text from Denmark. More than just a beautiful and detailed catalogue of Mongolian garments, the book is an exhaustive, though somewhat dry, anthropology of a people from the outside in … sort of a Mongolian companion to Alison Lurie’s Language of Clothes. Like Lurie’s text, one ultimately wishes the research were more sociological – a bit more about the “why” of it all – but as a visual and historic record of Mongolian, nomadic dress, there is surely no better resource.
Finally, though it’s probably worth a look-see by your favorite milliner or millinery buff, Juliet Bawden’s The Hat Book suffers from a lot of amateur enthusiasm and some pretty bad ideas. To be fair, there are lovely color photos and a bit of genuinely helpful information lurking about in here, but like many of the hats pictured throughout, they’re disguised under some pretty awful embellishment.
