Garment/Sculpture — SHAE BISHOP

White Hat / Black Hat

Ceramic, underglaze

2023

photos by Loam

Any Western-loving kid in the 1940s, or Westworld viewer in 2016, could tell you that good guys wear white hats and bad guys wear black hats. The cinematic convention started in 1903 and was established in the visual language of Westerns through mid-century. In the era of black-and-white films it helped clarify the characters in action sequences, and the symbolism made sense to the largely white, Christian, American audience. Justice was personified as a white man with a gun, facing off against the transgressors of his self-evidently moral social order.

The rise of color films and revisionist Westerns diminished the convention’s use on screen, but the idea of white hats vs. black hats remained an established trope. In the digital age the terminology has even been applied to hackers: malicious black hat cybercriminals vs. law-abiding white hats testing cybersecurity. This highlights the lasting impact of Westerns’ moral symbolism, even today.

The problem is that a binary worldview not only oversimplifies good and evil but also issues like race, gender, and colonialism. The paradigm always favors one half of the perceived binary, supporting the structures that legitimize power inequality.

When you put on this hat you must be both the hero and the villain. But if you choose to reject the dichotomy just remember it’s ceramic and, unlike rigid moral and political systems, it is easily broken.

Dang Me

Ceramic, underglaze

2023

photos by Loam

Bandana

Ceramic, underglaze, PE fiber

2022

photos by Loam

The red paisley bandana is as American as apple pie. Meaning, of course, that ingredients from Asia were taken and combined in Europe and imported to America where the result become an entrenched part of culture.

The word “bandana” comes from the bandhani textiles of India, which are patterned with a tie-dyeing technique. Through British colonization these fabrics were exported to Europe, where they became popular handkerchiefs in the 18th century. At this time there was also a growing craze for Kashmir shawls covered in elaborate leaf-shaped boteh motifs, a design which itself originated in Persia. European textile manufacturers raced to copy these popular shawls, most notably in the town of Paisley, Scotland. Ever since we have used “paisley” to describe patterns featuring boteh.

When the originally Asian “Turkey red” dyeing process was introduced to Scotland from France, it became a standard dye for textiles printed with “paisley” designs. America imported large quantities of paisley bandanas and some made their way to the frontier where cowboys wore them as kerchiefs to keep the sun and trail dust off their necks and faces.

Bandanas spread to many subcultures over time and are ubiquitous today. But whenever I walk past stacks of them at my local craft superstore, cheaply available in every color, I like to consider all the forces of early globalization that led to those little squares of patterned cloth.

American Heracles

Ceramic, acrylic, silver

2022

photos by Loam

Who can compare to the mighty Heracles of myth? Son of Zeus, conquerer of monsters, strongest man on earth. For millennia, from Greece to Rome to the USA, he has been a paragon of masculine ideals. By the mid-20th century the muscly strongman ideal was at its peak in America with the Golden Age of superhero comics. And alongside the cape-and-tights heroes, historical frontiersmen like Davy Crockett were increasingly mythologized into homegrown herculean characters in pulps and comic books. These beefcakes bursting out of their buckskins bested beasts and men alike. Brawn was exalted over brains. Thus, generations of boys were taught that the measure of a man is best taken around his biceps.

The Trouble With Heroes

Ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

The ancient Greeks believed in petty, fallible gods, and the classical heroes were part divine and just as imperfect. But in a culture that demands perfection, putting a human being on a pedestal rarely ends well. The flaws that brought ancient heroes to tragedy are just as present now as then. When our fragile heroic images topple and shatter, we are left sorting out the pieces. For all the good they inspire, all too often we must also reconcile with disappointment. That’s the trouble with heroes.

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Keep It Under Your Hat

Ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

“Cowboy” is almost synonymous with stoicism. The “strong, silent type” is the usual phrase. But does strength really come with hiding the full spectrum of emotions under a restrained facade?

Our culture has long made a masculine virtue of stubborn pride and a refusal to express our feelings. How many relationships and friendships have been harmed by this “virtue”? Maybe cowboys would be easier to love if they didn’t keep so much under their hats.

Dual-Purpose Hat: Feeling Hat

ceramic, leather, metal buckle

2022

photos by Loam

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Dual-Purpose Hat: Thinking Hat

ceramic, leather, metal buckle

2022

photo by Loam

Crotalus

ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

From the Garden of Eden to the Oregon Trail, we have cast snakes in the role of an eternal enemy. Often characterized as sly, inscrutable, and vicious, snakes are so different from ourselves that they are shrouded in fearful mystery. But this mystique also makes snakes a powerful symbol of untamed nature. The rattlesnake looms large in the mythos of the American frontier, and, like the wolf and cougar, we held it in awe at the same that we killed it relentlessly.

How many cowboys’ hatbands and belts have sported a diamondback skin to show off their mastery of nature’s dangers? This hat, instead, shows off the snake in its living glory, reminding us of snakes’ vital importance in the natural world: worthy of our respect, not our hatred.

Petromasculinity

ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

This ceramic hat is for the coal rollers. When your fragile, fragile masculinity is attacked by the presence of a cyclist or Prius driver, you don’t take it laying down. Ohhhh no. You flood your engine with sweet diesel nectar and let loose a cloud of smoke as black as the barrel of an AR-15. Because you’re a real man, a proud boy, you love your carbon footprint, and those greenies whining about climate change and gender equality are trying to take your God-given right to be IN CHARGE.

And for all the times you can’t be rollin coal, you can still wear this hat, so everyone remembers who’s boss.

Dude

ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

People have been saying “dude” for a long time. In the 19th century it meant a dandy, a man exaggeratedly devoted to style and fashion. From there, western slang took up “dude” to refer to fancy city dwellers in general, hence the term “dude ranch” where tourists paid to play cowboy. “Dude” entered African-American slang, was picked up by west-coast surfers and hippies, and became entrenched in stoner culture. Over time its meaning and usage broadened, largely transcending gender, region, and subculture. “Dude” is now firmly part of the mainstream lexicon.

Well dudes, whatever kind of dude you are, this hat is for you. As a dandy man from a city who likes to play cowboy, I have to admit I’m quite a dude myself.

The Higher The Heels

ceramic, underglaze

2022

photos by Loam

What’s more manly than a high heel?

Nothing, if you asked a medieval Persian cavalryman, King Louis XIV, or a 20th century cowboy. They hold your foot in the stirrup while riding, make you taller, exude confidence and prestige, and give a swagger to your walk. So when did high heels become such a symbol of femininity? Like so many other changes in fashion, it happened in the 18th century.

Before then, most high heels were worn by men. When heels, inspired by Asian riding shoes, became a fashion craze in 17th century Europe, they were a status symbol (especially red heels). Louis XIV even banned the lower classes from wearing them. But in the next century, along with a big fashion shift, men’s shoes were becoming plainer and more utilitarian, and women’s more ornamental. With few exceptions, heels ended up firmly in the feminine realm.

Later, as American western wear developed, riding boots started to have higher heels again. Cowboy style, full of exceptions to fashion norms, brought back the manly high heel.

Whatever your style, whether it’s stilettos, platforms, cubans, or cowboys, know your history and wear your heels with pride.

Eternal Cowboy

Ceramic, underglaze, glaze, PE braid, canvas, leather, brass

2021

photos by Myles Pettengill

The cowboy is America’s ultimate protean figure. But what is the origin? The heyday? The legacy? One incarnation thrills crowds, dripping rhinestones and embroidery in the bright glow of stages and arenas. One rides the shaky monochrome reels of moving pictures. Certainly one worked in motley multicultural bands on the dusty cattle drives across western plains yet to be fenced, heading for distant railheads. One was a Spanish colonist tending herds and traversing new lands, equally unfamiliar to human and animal. And perhaps all the way across the sea, back when Arabian hooves first galloped across Iberian lands, there was a glimpse.

What we can say, certainly, is that cowboy style and identity persists, through all the vicissitudes of history. It exists at the intersection of tradition and new frontiers. We think we know it, but it can always surprise us. With a seemingly infinite power of reinvention, the American cowboy embodies every time, always changing and always the same. Cowboy never dies.

Waistcoat of Earthly Delights

Ceramic, underglaze, wool, poly satin, PE braid, wire

2021

photos by Loam

Nature is the original source of all human design, and certainly in clothing nature motifs have been prevalent through much of history. During the mid-19th century in Europe, a time when male fashion was becoming less ornate, the waistcoat was often a last bastion of elaborate fancy, vivid color, decoration and individuality. Amidst throngs in plain muted colors, a brilliant few inches peeking out between coat edges was an acceptable lapse in masculine solemnity. Here, kept close to the chest, gardens of floral designs burst forth in embroidery and brocade.

Despite these trends, nature motifs in a modernizing culture rarely held much specificity and particular significance. Cloth was shipped long distances, designs copied freely from various sourcebooks, nature removed several degrees, abstracted and glossed with an unconcerned sheen of civilization. If an Englishman wore a waistcoat embroidered with a certain type of flower, it is unlikely that he chose it for this reason or thought much about where it was from or what it meant, beyond aesthetic pleasure.

Superficial sensory pleasure is often what has been meant by phrases like “earthly delights.” This has been seen as a negative opposite to the spiritual. In my waistcoat, I instead propose a dichotomy between a specific homage to nature and a vague reference. Here, the snakes are Eastern Cottonmouths, surrounded by the native flora of their Southeastern habitat. It is a waistcoat for one who observes and feels connected to the natural inhabitants of a particular place, true earthly delights.

A Swimsuit To Wear While Looking For Hellbenders

Ceramic, wool, PE braid

2020

studio photos by Loam, outdoor photos by Myles Pettengill

The hellbender: a creature of legendary proportions and near-mythic status. Splashing through Kentucky streams in childhood, it was my white whale, my holy grail: always sought, never found. Moving to the Blue Ridge Mountains as an adult, I finally met this grandfather salamander face-to-face. Wading and snorkeling in the cold mountain rivers, not yet ruined by runoff and sedimentation, I entered the hellbender’s world to observe its secret life.

I made this swimsuit to help me in my quest. Taking cues from the garments of the past, it is lined with knit wool, which insulates even when wet. Starting with a white porcelain, I pressed each tile in my fingers, gradually blending in more and more of a nearly black stoneware clay. Light fading below water, stones tumbling smooth in swift currents, I thought of the river and felt amphibian auspices as I worked.

When I slide the suit onto my body I feel an immediate change. The soft rustle of the tiles, the weight hugging me closely, I feel pulled toward the water. The hellbenders are patient, as they always have been. They walk the stones, draw oxygen through skin folds, feel the light, smell the water. They wait for me.

You Lookin At Me Pardner?

Ceramic

2021

photo by Loam

Eye contact is key in personal interaction. How we look at one another can say as much as the words we speak. One look from someone can tell if you are being respected or disrespected, and this is especially important when protecting your fragile masculinity. Maybe a fella looks at you funny; that’s as good as fighting words. Or maybe he had the grit to look you in the eye and talk man-to-man. What’s he thinking behind that long stare?

Rest assured, when two cowboys put on this hat you’ll never have to wonder “you lookin at me?”

modeled with Jason Bige Burnett

PICKUP LINES

Ceramic, underglaze

2021

photos by Loam and Annie Evelyn

This ceramic hat is the next piece in my Fragile Masculinity series. While the wearing of cowboy hats has waned over time, another symbol of American masculinity has roared into ever-greater prominence: the pickup truck. Associated with the cowboy, farmer, construction worker, and general tough guy, few symbols loom as large in the macho pantheon as the big old American truck. Whether seen as a replacement for the horse in cowboy identity, or a connection to a bygone era of hands-on labor, the truck is central to the construction of a certain type of masculine self-image. Americans actually bought more trucks than cars for the first time ever in 2020.

Of course if there is one place you’ll hear more “pickup lines” than a bar, it’s in country music, always spreading the gospel of the truck. Since the 1960s there has been a 700% increase in the the mention of trucks in country songs, coinciding with trucks becoming ever more mainstream. Anyone who tuned into a country station in the last decade is familiar with the “Hey girl, hop in my truck, I’ll take you for a ride” mantra of bro country. If rural mid-America is the heart of the country, then the pickup truck might be its penis.

So, put on this hat if you want to want to get more truck in your life and show off your manliness. Just remember, it’s fragile.

GARDEN VARIETY COWBOY

Ceramic, underglaze, silver

2021

photos by Loam

This ceramic hat was the first of a series exploring the theme of “fragile masculinity”. The cowboy hat is an iconic emblem of American manliness as a mythic ethos, but has also been repurposed in myriad ways. Now I present it once again, in ceramic, to look at these ideas and distinctions and suggest how delicate they can be.

Floral and nature motifs in clothing only began to be perceived as female-gendered in the 19th century in the Euro-American world. But they have held a place in cowboy & western menswear which has waxed and waned, but never gone away. The influence of American Indian beadwork and embroidered folk textiles of European immigrants (all the way down to Nudie Cohn) contribute to this, but it’s a complex picture.

So, who is a “garden variety” American cowboy? The self-reliant frontiersman? The Nudie-suited 70s superstar in Hollywood? The 21st century teen questioning gender norms in fashion? In some ways the answer to all of these could be: Yes.

Shorts To Wear While Looking For Pythons

Ceramic, underglaze, glaze, PE fiber, cotton, leather, brass

2019

photos by Hannah Patterson

I began making these ceramic shorts while working in Bali, Indonesia. I was spending a lot of time going into the fields and jungles, day and night, searching for the many snakes that inhabit the island. I wanted to make a garment to wear, both functional and symbolic, to bring luck and power while looking for pythons. Like the Mande hunters’ shirts of Mali, adorned with amulets, animal parts, mirrors, and pouches to show mastery of and protection from the physical and spiritual forces of the jungle, I would create my shorts to help me in my quest.

Each tile is handmade from a porcelain blend and high-fired for strength. The glazed colors and pattern arrangement of the scale-like tiles reference the reticulated python, my chosen quarry, one of the largest and most beautiful snakes of Indonesia. The shorts, while seemingly impractical, are immensely comfortable. When donned they impart a feeling of transformation– the weight and slight clinking sound making every movement feel intentional and focused. As I walk through the forest I feel a heightened sense of purpose leading me on in my search. Searching for pythons.