The Fabric of Our Afterlife Display Showcases Spiritually Connected Textiles From Southeast Asia by Daniel Brill What do your clothes mean to you? Sure, you’ve got that power tie that’s always guaranteed to knock them dead at the shareholder’s meetings, or that little black dress that fits every occasion. But can you remember the last time you wore a piece of clothing that actually brought you closer to securing a spot in heaven? Then it might be time to visit the Textile Museum and check out the new exhibit “Textiles for this World and Beyond: Treasures from Insular Southeast Asia.” The museum is rolling out the red carpet for an enormous collection of textiles created by highly spiritual people with incredible talents that match their noble intentions. Spanning across religion, ethnicity and social status, the exhibit provides an awe-inspiring look at some of the world’s most complex and spiritually connected art. Entering the exhibit requires a moment of adjustment, as the rooms are kept cool and dimly lit to preserve the rich color and delicate arrangement of the decorative pieces covering nearly every inch of the walls. The muted atmosphere is more than appropriate because visitors are about to come into contact with some of the most important possessions of several deeply spiritual cultures. Each collection of textiles is accompanied by a comprehensive description of their origins and meanings, although to the admirer of man-made beauty, this information can simply serve as frosting on the cake. The entranceway to the exhibit contains a three-piece collection from the Savu people of Indonesia that is a proper introduction into how a variation in a textile stitching can make a big difference in meaning. Three women’s tube skirts hang behind a glass case—although the majority of the exhibit’s pieces are out in the open—and to the untrained eye, they seem like simple variations of the same color scheme and style. Yet further exploration into their story reveals that the design of two of the skirts indicates a strict line between hubi groups, a type of social class. The first skirt has seven black bands on each half, indicating that its owner belonged to the elite “Greater Blossom” group. The second has four wide black bands on each half, thus marking its wearer as a member of the “Lesser Blossom.” Over time, these garments no longer served as everyday attire, although Savu women are still required to wear them at weddings and funerals. The modern, more “politically correct” version of the tube skirt is represented by the third piece, which is worn by most Savu women today as it bears no connection to any hubi group. A closer look at the exhibit reveals that these magnificent textiles came to mean any number of things, from gifts or contracts with gods and spirits to good luck charms for crops and family. They were often used in funeral processions, which were grand and sometimes yearlong events in some cultures, with large textiles often being draped over the houses of family members in mourning. The ancient roots of the textile-making art are also a focus of the exhibition, with the exhibit’s introductory plaque pointing out that there were words for “weave,” “loom” and “shuttle” as far back as 3500 B.C. Perhaps the most prominent theme throughout the exhibit, besides the obvious importance of the textiles themselves, is the way they defined and enhanced the role of women in these South Asian societies. Although both men and women made use of these textiles, it was the woman’s job to create them. A woman in the traditional Iban society who could create a beautifully extravagant textile, for instance, would be given an amount of respect comparable to the most successful headhunters in the society. In fact, some of the techniques used during the weaving of these textiles were so dangerous that only a select number of courageous women were allowed to perform the task. Many of these women also told of receiving messages in dreams, transmitted to them from the spirit world, that commanded them to create particular patterns or images. Symbolism runs deep throughout the exhibit. A particularly interesting Iban textile shows the delicate relationship between the Iban people and the deadly crocodiles that inhabit their land. In some sections of a particular skirt, there are images of humans holding trophies over their heads, below which runs a pattern of other people being eaten by the formidable beasts. Another Iban textile features several images of serpents in intricate patterns, with an offering located at the center of the artwork. The Iban people believed that the serpent guarded the Land of the Dead, and this symbolic offering may have been another nod of respect to the spiritual world. As much as textiles could bring good luck in life, it was believed they were equally important in death to ensure safe passage into the afterlife and leave a mourning family in safe hands. The aforementioned extra-large textiles, called “porilonjong,” are truly a sight to behold—not only because they run the vertical length of the museum’s entire wall, but also because they include some of the most intricate patterns of all the textiles in the exhibit. Among the Toraja people of Sulawesi, these porilonjongs were traditionally used to guard grave houses, but are now used at more celebratory events, such as weddings. Another smaller textile enclosed in a case nearby is also symbolic of death processions, although it features the image of a squatting slave—an echo of the ancient act of sacrificing a slave during a funeral. Intricately detailed textiles made with beads, gold weavings and even tree bark are dispersed throughout the exhibit. Upstairs, the Learning Center provides visitors with a chance to learn the basic tricks of the craft. Visitors can even use a microscope to see the painstaking detail with which every strand of cloth is woven together, exploring the minute ingredients of these artworks that stretch all the way to heaven. “Textiles for this World and Beyond: Treasures from Insular Southeast Asia” runs through Sept. 18 at the Textile Museum, 2320 S St., NW. For more information, please call (202) 667-0441 or visit www.textilemuseum.org. Daniel Brill was an editorial intern for The Washington Diplomat.