Shoes: the Agony and the Ecstasy, Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery
Flip-flops, wedges, heels or boots: what you wear on your feet says something about you and the period in which you live. Colours, styles and materials reflect the fashion of the age and what is considered socially acceptable.
Tyne and Wear Museums' Shoes: the Agony and the Ecstasy, currently at the Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery, is tackling a fascinating and meaty subject. But after a fantastic opening, the exhibition becomes disappointingly light on content and fails to live up to its potential.
The exhibition is introduced by six cases that succinctly and elegantly summarise the subject: how shoes symbolise rituals, wearers and wider society. In the first case, Suhandan Özay Dermirkan, a shoemaker herself, has donated an exhibit entitled Dowry Trunk, which comprises five pairs of exquisite paper shoes that are so delicate one wonders how they could be worn.
The dowry trunk is given to Turkish brides and contains objects that represent her family. The shoes are white to represent beginning, paper to represent purity, and are inscribed with messages and the names of the wearer.
In contrast, two other cases in the sequence illustrate the use of shoes as a means of subjugation and oppression. In one, the horrendous practice of foot-binding is illustrated by lotus shoes from China. No more than 5cm long, these were used to create 'beautiful' feet in a social practice that left the women unable to walk.
The second case is a series of ceramic shoes made by Jenny Stolzenberg. The shoes are in odd pairs, with one of each pair being distorted; they represent the mismatched shoes that concentration camp prisoners were given by their Nazi guards.
The three other cases reflect the uses of different materials at different times and how shoes mirror styles and fashions of the period. Victorian leather boots evoke Dickensian London, and colourful silk and satin dancing shoes of the 1920s illustrate a time of prosperity and gaiety for the wearer. The third case contains two pairs of ultra pointy Gil Carvalho shoes made from aluminium, steel, plastic and elastic, which simply provoke an involuntary 'ouch!'.
This opening sequence shows that something we may take for granted - a pair of shoes - can open up a discussion on a wealth of other topics. It promises great things for the exhibition: an exploration of social and cultural history, a reflection on how shoes represent our times and ourselves. But it isn't to be. Instead, the rest only skims the surface of its subject, saying very little that really captures the attention. This seems to come down to the organisation and tone of the exhibition.
In this venue, the exhibition is housed in two very elegant rooms; the first is dedicated to the objects, the second to an interactive area. The rooms are not enormous, but even so, the eight sections of the object-based part of the show fit comfortably in the first room. This is because each section is covered only briefly, with a large graphic panel and a case or two for each.
Having started with such a sophisticated and subtle opening, this section feels as though it has come from the Ladybird book of shoes: 'Why do we wear shoes?' The answer seems to be 'for protection', and lo and behold a case crammed with 'practical' shoes - ballet shoes, firemen's boots, sandals for Turkish baths. Crammed is the key word here, as there are so many shoes in the case the features of some are obscured by those in front.
Other sections include those on Obsession, Fashion and Must-Haves, although the distinction between these categories isn't clear.
'Obsession' takes its cue from the character of Carrie Bradshaw in the US television programme Sex and the City - the idea that we just can't help but spend all our hard-earned cash on the latest Manolo Blahniks. Somehow, these shoes are different from 'must-have' shoes, which are 'street' (cue a case of trainers).
And 'street' shoes are somehow different from 'fashion' shoes. This latter section was one of the more interesting ones, showing that shoe styles, or more specifically heel styles, haven't progressed all that much over the centuries.
One can't help feeling that if they were put together, these sections would form the basis of a really interesting exhibition on style, shoes and society. But the decision to divide it into bite-sized chunks makes the subject seem superficial.
This feeling is emphasised when subjects such as foot-binding, fetishism, peep-toes and high heels are all lumped together in a single case entitled Pain and Pleasure. This title might encompass all of these if taken in its broadest sense, but with no depth of discussion, no context, or history it just doesn't do justice to the complexities of each subject.
The superficial feeling is exacerbated by the accompanying text panels. Each section is introduced with a large graphic panel, each with its own strapline. These defy description, except that they must have come from a really naff advertising copywriter's manual. For example: 'What are your shoes doing for you today?'
At least the exhibition ends on a high note. The interactive room is really aimed at kids, but is good fun for adults too.
There is a great quiz in which visitors can handle four different shoes and fill out a questionnaire about them. This really makes you think about the purpose of the shoes, why they are made as they are, and what they say about the wearer. In fact, more is achieved in this one exhibit than several of the cases and text panels put together.
Leaving the exhibition, my overall feeling was disappointment. The opening promised so much, and the potential is there in the collection, but the organisation and presentation let the exhibition down. Instead of sparkling Manolos it's everyday work shoes.
Rachel Souhami is a freelance curator and a lecturer in science communication at Imperial College London
Project data
Cost of exhibition and tour: £127,000
Funders: Arts Council England, North East Museums Hub, Daphne Bullard Trust
Sponsors: Tyne & Wear Museums Business Partners, Friends of the Shipley Art Gallery
Curators: Caroline Whitehead (keeper of history), Clare Smith (learning officer) - Tyne & Wear Museums
Creative consultant: Janice Blackburn
Exhibition design: Ian Haswell, Roy Watson - Tyne & Wear Museums
Website design: Andy Brown, Paul Malley - Tyne & Wear Museums
Flip-flops, wedges, heels or boots: what you wear on your feet says something about you and the period in which you live. Colours, styles and materials reflect the fashion of the age and what is considered socially acceptable.
Tyne and Wear Museums' Shoes: the Agony and the Ecstasy, currently at the Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery, is tackling a fascinating and meaty subject. But after a fantastic opening, the exhibition becomes disappointingly light on content and fails to live up to its potential.
The exhibition is introduced by six cases that succinctly and elegantly summarise the subject: how shoes symbolise rituals, wearers and wider society. In the first case, Suhandan Özay Dermirkan, a shoemaker herself, has donated an exhibit entitled Dowry Trunk, which comprises five pairs of exquisite paper shoes that are so delicate one wonders how they could be worn.
The dowry trunk is given to Turkish brides and contains objects that represent her family. The shoes are white to represent beginning, paper to represent purity, and are inscribed with messages and the names of the wearer.
In contrast, two other cases in the sequence illustrate the use of shoes as a means of subjugation and oppression. In one, the horrendous practice of foot-binding is illustrated by lotus shoes from China. No more than 5cm long, these were used to create 'beautiful' feet in a social practice that left the women unable to walk.
The second case is a series of ceramic shoes made by Jenny Stolzenberg. The shoes are in odd pairs, with one of each pair being distorted; they represent the mismatched shoes that concentration camp prisoners were given by their Nazi guards.
The three other cases reflect the uses of different materials at different times and how shoes mirror styles and fashions of the period. Victorian leather boots evoke Dickensian London, and colourful silk and satin dancing shoes of the 1920s illustrate a time of prosperity and gaiety for the wearer. The third case contains two pairs of ultra pointy Gil Carvalho shoes made from aluminium, steel, plastic and elastic, which simply provoke an involuntary 'ouch!'.
This opening sequence shows that something we may take for granted - a pair of shoes - can open up a discussion on a wealth of other topics. It promises great things for the exhibition: an exploration of social and cultural history, a reflection on how shoes represent our times and ourselves. But it isn't to be. Instead, the rest only skims the surface of its subject, saying very little that really captures the attention. This seems to come down to the organisation and tone of the exhibition.
In this venue, the exhibition is housed in two very elegant rooms; the first is dedicated to the objects, the second to an interactive area. The rooms are not enormous, but even so, the eight sections of the object-based part of the show fit comfortably in the first room. This is because each section is covered only briefly, with a large graphic panel and a case or two for each.
Having started with such a sophisticated and subtle opening, this section feels as though it has come from the Ladybird book of shoes: 'Why do we wear shoes?' The answer seems to be 'for protection', and lo and behold a case crammed with 'practical' shoes - ballet shoes, firemen's boots, sandals for Turkish baths. Crammed is the key word here, as there are so many shoes in the case the features of some are obscured by those in front.
Other sections include those on Obsession, Fashion and Must-Haves, although the distinction between these categories isn't clear.
'Obsession' takes its cue from the character of Carrie Bradshaw in the US television programme Sex and the City - the idea that we just can't help but spend all our hard-earned cash on the latest Manolo Blahniks. Somehow, these shoes are different from 'must-have' shoes, which are 'street' (cue a case of trainers).
And 'street' shoes are somehow different from 'fashion' shoes. This latter section was one of the more interesting ones, showing that shoe styles, or more specifically heel styles, haven't progressed all that much over the centuries.
One can't help feeling that if they were put together, these sections would form the basis of a really interesting exhibition on style, shoes and society. But the decision to divide it into bite-sized chunks makes the subject seem superficial.
This feeling is emphasised when subjects such as foot-binding, fetishism, peep-toes and high heels are all lumped together in a single case entitled Pain and Pleasure. This title might encompass all of these if taken in its broadest sense, but with no depth of discussion, no context, or history it just doesn't do justice to the complexities of each subject.
The superficial feeling is exacerbated by the accompanying text panels. Each section is introduced with a large graphic panel, each with its own strapline. These defy description, except that they must have come from a really naff advertising copywriter's manual. For example: 'What are your shoes doing for you today?'
At least the exhibition ends on a high note. The interactive room is really aimed at kids, but is good fun for adults too.
There is a great quiz in which visitors can handle four different shoes and fill out a questionnaire about them. This really makes you think about the purpose of the shoes, why they are made as they are, and what they say about the wearer. In fact, more is achieved in this one exhibit than several of the cases and text panels put together.
Leaving the exhibition, my overall feeling was disappointment. The opening promised so much, and the potential is there in the collection, but the organisation and presentation let the exhibition down. Instead of sparkling Manolos it's everyday work shoes.
Rachel Souhami is a freelance curator and a lecturer in science communication at Imperial College London
Project data
Cost of exhibition and tour: £127,000
Funders: Arts Council England, North East Museums Hub, Daphne Bullard Trust
Sponsors: Tyne & Wear Museums Business Partners, Friends of the Shipley Art Gallery
Curators: Caroline Whitehead (keeper of history), Clare Smith (learning officer) - Tyne & Wear Museums
Creative consultant: Janice Blackburn
Exhibition design: Ian Haswell, Roy Watson - Tyne & Wear Museums
Website design: Andy Brown, Paul Malley - Tyne & Wear Museums
