The Decorated Kate
See article in its original context here by Amy Campbell for Melbourne. Arts. Fashion.
An invitation to sip tea and talk trinkets with Kate Durham is not something one stumbles across everyday.
But if you ever find yourself ringing the doorbell to her eclectic home, notebook in hand and excitement uncontainable, I can promise you it will be an afternoon well spent.
Jewellery designer, Co-founder of the Fashion Design Council, Refugee Advocate and charming soul, Durham’s accolades and charisma are just as decorated as the treasures she creates. Thus, it makes perfect sense her upcoming exhibition is titled The Decorated Self. A collation of her most recent work, the show embraces age, femininity and the socially subdued freedom to indulge in ‘a little dressing up’.
“In a sense, I’ve taken up where I left off in the ‘80s,” Durham explains, “but my early jewellery was much brasher, more overtly funny… I think this jewellery still contains little jokes, but it’s a bit wiser… more muted. Less judgemental, perhaps.”
She speaks as if she is years beyond her age. While her playful wit and unspoilt complexion suggest otherwise, Durham’s profound understanding of the way ‘women (her) age’ should dress indicates a mature expertise. “We can’t dress like young people anymore, but we can still wear jewellery that throws people off a little,” she giggles from behind her enormous black spectacles. “I find it sad that you almost become part of an order when you get older, where the prescribed way of dressing is more and more discreet. My jewellery fights this kind of orthodoxy that women ought to disappear, and be more tasteful to the point they don’t exist anymore.”
Pieces in the exhibition feature illustrations from art auction magazines. Many of the designs are also intertwined with pearl shell, gathered from the stretch of coast near Durham’s beach house. “I think I’ve sifted through every shell on that poor beach!” She laughs. “But if you add a certain grey, pearly thing to the palette, it’s like discovering a little bit of light.” She holds up an intricate neckpiece in demonstration. “It brings a moon into your orbit.”
Durham’s method of describing her work is truly romantic. You can tell it’s something that brings her great joy. But at the beginning of the century a change in direction from arts to refugee activism led her to cease making jewellery for almost nine years. “I used to feel guilty about being self indulgent and being an artist and interested in fashion. I felt I was unworthy and wasn’t participating or contributing to society. I guess it’s something every artist encounters at one stage or another. In a sense I think I’ve done a full circle. I no longer feel bad about appreciating the things I love. The world doesn’t need any more distress. An appreciation of beauty and good things helps us get through what really is a disastrous time.”
We sip away at her Chinese infusion and conversation again becomes light-hearted after I mention growing up on a horse farm. Durham is intrigued. She also rode when she was young.
“Is your family into these miniature ponies?” She asks. I chuckle, imagining my father, a thoroughbred enthusiast, leading a miniature horse into the barn. “I’ve never actually sighted one,” Durham continues, “but I think they’re fascinating. I keep telling Burnside I want one, it could carry a little drinks tray on it’s back!”
We laugh at the thought of a tiny horse grazing amongst the ornamental birdbaths and mosaicked gazebos of her garden. A QC lawyer and human rights activist himself, husband Julian Burnside wasn’t as thrilled at the suggestion of a pony.
Steering our chat back to the exhibition is difficult. It’s not often you interview someone who is as equally interested in you. A trip to the garden studio directs conversation back to her work. “It’s a mess at the moment!” She exclaims, apologetically. But I couldn’t care less. Walls lined with mirrors and mosaics encase a treasure chest of ribbon, seashells, beads, silversmith tools and other hand sourced trinkets. I was in heaven. But floating down from the enchanted cloud that is her studio, Durham tells me not everyone understands her work. “Some find it challenging. Decoration is often criticised for being too excessive. “Yet no one would think having an abundant garden was wrong, or that a spider web was too detailed. It’s when we do it on ourselves, we are criticised.”
“My work has always been a bit of a hybrid, it steals elements and reminds you of other cultures. It’s a mash up of different and quite disparate elements. But when I make something, I think of it as a sort of embrace. It’s meant to sit there and do good things for you. Sort of like a talisman. I think I kind of aspire to become someone’s treasure.”
I couldn’t sum Kate Durham up more perfectly if I tried. To catch a glimpse of her treasure chest, visit The Decorated Self at fortyfivedownstairs from September 17 – October 11.