the cultural backdrop

Within the conventions of Chinese Opera, Jing characters were traditionally high ranking, mighty male characters wearing grand costumes, and played by men for centuries. Their costumes were made of high grade silk with exquisite, meticulous embroidery. Gold and silver were often used to depict these supernatural characters. These costumes instill the performers with a majestic and stately spirit and complimented their exaggerated facial and bodily expressions. 

Due to conservative practices and misogynous mindsets, female performers were not allowed on stage, and males cross-dressing to play female roles was standard practice during the Qing dynasty (from 1644 – 1911) when Chinese Opera was at its apex in China. Women were even prohibited from watching any operatic productions. In present-day Singapore where I am currently based, women performers are often relegated to playing the damsel. Even now, the larger-than-life Jing character, vested with authority and influence, is neither a woman nor played by a woman. 

As a fashion artist, feminist and LGBTQIA+ rights activist, I enjoy challenging tradition by envisioning new narratives where a woman can be a being of power. I want an updated Jing character, when played by a woman, to possess a goddess-like presence, emitting an aura of empowerment and grace while embracing the female body form without having to embody any stereotypical masculine traits.

The Jing silhouette is updated to give the dress a more modern feel and to give the female wearer a more dignified bearing. For instance, the sleeves were shortened for practicality and colour palette is limited to just two shades, a far cry from some traditional designs that consist of many colours ranging from red, yellow, green, blue, black, purple, etc.

This rose gold Jing dress is a 3D printed, neo-couture wearable art-piece commissioned by the National Museum of Singapore. Baëlf Design, a creative studio that I co-founded with my partner Lionel Wong, was tasked to reinterpret four sets of Chinese Opera costumes by giving each character a futuristic twist with the help of additive manufacturing.

Click on this link to see a photograph of tradition Jing performer in Singapore between 1940s-1960s:

https://www.roots.gov.sg/Collection-Landing/listing/1046405.

Click on this link to read more on a tradition Jing headwear in Singapore:
https://www.roots.gov.sg/Collection-Landing/listing/1167262.

The Vision

The Circle is considered the most perfect shape in some Chinese cultures, and the spherical volumes and round silhouettes of traditional Jing costumes reflected that belief. As a callout to that inspiration, the silhouette of this dress is likewise composed of a cascading series of curves. I also replaced the repetitive 2D dragon scale embroidery with computer generated 3D fractal patterns that mimicked dynamic flight movements and dragon exoskeletons. This shift – from a focus on what the dragon looks like to how it moves, is symbolic of a shift in our understanding (and representation) of women as well – a shift from what we look like towards what we do and who we are.

At Baëlf, we usually begin the dress-making process by manipulating small textural swatches on a virtual mannequin that had been 3D scanned. This working method streamlines our build made-to-order business model, enabling us to customise bespoke dresses efficiently to fit our wearers. It is definitely possible for our designs to accommodate clients having physio-divergent characteristics, such as missing limbs or severely warped spines. Measurements could also easily be tweaked in the future if the client undergoes body-changing events. 

With digital tools, it is so much easier to defy gravity and play with different placements. One can instantly preview how duplicating/mirroring/scaling affects the overall silhouette. I approach projects with an architectural design approach, treating the digital mannequin as a topological reference for us to position the hundreds of structural elements of the dresses. 

THE MANIFESTATION

Fabricating 3D printed garments is very different from producing fabric-based clothing using conventional 2D pattern drafting methods. This is mainly due to the physical characteristics of 3D printed TPE materials as they are still not as pliable or foldable as textile. This means I have to carefully consider how a garment is designed to be worn on a human body, much akin to how rigid suits of armour were designed. Fasteners such as zips, snap buttons or strings can be incorporated onto such garments, being attached through sewing, adhesives, or other mechanical means. Printed garments tend to be heavier than fabric clothing too, which makes it necessary to incorporate additional support such as cushioning shoulder pads and straps.

Once the design was finalized digitally, I sent it for 3D printing. Before Covid-19 disrupted the supply chain/international delivery, I usually outsourced for my works to be produced via Selective Laser Sintering (SLS), where lasers are used to fuse nylon/elastomeric powder together to create sturdy yet flexible, complex forms. This method gave me the liberty to bring forth mathematically derived shapes that previously could only exist in digital space, as I need not print specialized supports to hold up the print structures. The loose, un-sintered powder inside the build chamber already served that purpose.

This dress was conceived early in the pandemic, when it was extremely difficult to do a designer’s work due to disruptions in logistics, finances and my own mental well-being. With the unpredictable shipping situation at the early stages of making, I decided to take manufacturing into our own hands and invested in an in-house Fused Filament Fabrication (FFF) 3D printer instead. However, FFF printers usually came with very small printing volume (approximately 15cm X 20cm X 15cm), which meant I had to slice up the digital dress into smaller pieces to fit into the printer’s boundaries. In addition, complex parts with many of their areas hanging over empty space require ‘support structures’ to hold these areas up during printing. These supports are lightweight, temporary structures that can be removed after printing. In our case, the increased complexity of our parts require heavy use of supports, and manually removing them is a time-consuming process.

Traditional dresses were embellished with many natural found objects, such as seashells, kingfisher feathers, pearls, etc. As part of our journey in designing neo-couture, a big part of it was using data and algorithm to dictate the form of our dresses and elevate our forms into the hyperreal. The textures above were digitally generated by using mathematical formulas derived from nature, such as the those that dictated the logarithmic spiral shells of the ammonites, not unlike Romanesco broccoli. They were my building blocks as much as fabrics, beads and haberdashery were for traditional garment makers. I allowed Data to translate into beauty, and crafting takes on new dimensions, new modes of execution.

Nevertheless, FFF printing is very affordable and accessible. What started off as a labour intensive compromise given the external situation, drove me to innovate further: in order to use the FFF printer, I had to design in a modular manner, so components could be easily replaced if they are damaged.

As a Future Craftsperson, I work with my hands as much as I worked with technology, in both physical and digital realms. This project was not all about computers and printers. There is something really beautiful and resonant about doing embroidery by hand, as people have for centuries before us. Hence you will find embedded 3D thread embroidery playing hide and seek throughout the dress, and the various sub-assemblies of the dress held together with stitching. I also use adhesives such as E6000 glue, which dries flexible and clear and accommodates the stresses faced during wear.

3D printing comes with its own quirks. As material is built up in layers from bottom to top during printing, how a part in the printer is arranged will affect the appearance of ‘grainlines’ on its surface. Having two parts which are meant to attach to each other be printed in drastically different orientations meant that light will reflect differently on both of them when they are assembled. Differences in glossiness, texture, and colour . . . these aesthetic discrepancies have to be resolved. One could try to colour the whole dress after assembly or add some embroidery or crystals to divert attention. In the end, I printed all the dress parts in a clear flexible, TPE material and sprayed them in metallic rose gold.

When working with 3D printing, we were more concerned with architecture and structure rather than folds and drape.  When confronted with new technologies and new mediums, we were required to be inventive. For instance, we envisioned a row of fractal spines snaking their way down the length of both sleeves. By using strips of corset boning to serve as sturdy bases of these spines, what was for constraining a woman’s body in the past was now used to uplift her silhouette and transcend gravity.

THE CONCLUSION

Every dress was a series of lessons in craft-making, digital design, resource management and cultural anthropology. Even though we may have found ways to automate aspects of our production through machinery, these technologies did not make our task easier, for we still must focus on other aspects such as balance, presence and visual impact. These cannot be easily measured nor worked with by machines. We as human creators still have that responsibility to look to the higher aspects of design.

What we have done through this dress making process is to show that Fashion can be democratised, not bound to the whims of narration of a selected elite, but we the people can (and have the right) to tell our own stories through our creation of dress. For Baëlf Design, we sought to highlight the power dynamics between genders that were widespread in the past, and persist in the present as well. The Jing character can be a he, a she or a they; by actively defying gender norms and cultural traditions for the sake of inclusivity, this powerful role belongs to all of us.

The Jing (净) dress is on display in the Contemporary Gallery at the Asian Civilisations Museum, Singapore until 9th January 2022.

About the Creator

Jamela Law is a Fashion Designer/ Conceptual Artist who holds a Fashion Design and Textiles BA (Hons) degree from LASALLE College of the Arts Singapore, accredited by Goldsmiths University of London. Her graduation collection was awarded ‘Best Fashion Collection’ by the School’s Dean of Design. She was also named a finalist for the 2018 Graduate Programme, organized by the Council of Fashion Designer in America (CFDA+). 

Jamela has showcased her works internationally and appeared in publications such as ELLE, FEMALE, L’Officiel, Tatler and Vogue. She is the recipient of the Hong Kong Human Rights Inkluvision Award 2021, presented by the Goethe-Institut and winner of the PULSE Award 2021, under the theme ‘Sexual Health Matters’ in the 3D sculpture category. Besides being a fashion junkie and technology geek, Jamela is passionate about sustainable living and LGBTQIA+ rights.

Jamela currently works in Hong Kong and Singapore as Creative Director at her self-founded company Baëlf Design.