It’s rare to find a swirling concertina cape that springs into shape when you pull it out of a suitcase, or a wipe-clean skirt made with both sustainable fabric and meticulous finesse, but through endless experimentation, Malone has managed to create such pieces. Equally, by elevating the aesthetic signifiers of his Wexford roots (think: Argos uniforms and scaffolding signage) into fabulous fashion, he is determined to dismantle the class barriers that can appear so obstructive within the industry and make efforts at democratising its mystique.
His new exhibition, held at Greenwich’s NOW Gallery, hopes to invite its audience into his world and engage them with the processes he uses to design: his conversations with his clients, the fabrics he experiments with, the toiles he manipulates. “There’s a real conversation around the elitism of fashion that I wanted to highlight,” he explains. “How with art you can experience it without being able to afford it, but with fashion those opportunities are quite rare so we need to work on making it more egalitarian and inviting." Below, he explains in his own, brilliantly blunt words where he found inspiration, and what he hopes for in holding his first solo art show.
Why is the show titled Rinse, Repeat?
It refers to the cyclical nature of fashion, to the actual process of making these huge collections. I want to remove the wall between the viewer or wearer and the artwork or garment, and be super open with how you get from scribbles and ideas to a finalised piece. I guess the title is also a nod to the shitty laundrettes I grew up surrounded by – one particular example, Marlowe’s Cleaners in Wexford, comes to mind. I love the language in those types of environments: totally functional and clear.
Can you explain the concept behind the exhibition? Why did you want to do it?
We kind of accept fashion now as small images on our phone screens that last little more than a few seconds, and the actual process can be totally overlooked. But the idea of experimenting, or making for making’s sake, is really critical to me, because I do all of the pattern cutting and fabric design myself. The reason I do what I do is down to the excitement and love of making something new – I never intended to be a product designer. This exhibition allows me to have a blank canvas to work within, and that’s super refreshing when my schedule is quite regimented due to the fashion show system. It’s almost been like giving myself a breather, and some really vital time for reflection. I always like to check myself and make sure I'm doing what I love, because I’m not a fan of a lot of the fashion industry and I don’t want to get drawn into a toxic cycle – or at least, want to resist it as much as I can.
It’s a mixture of being informed by actual clothing – from the sorts I grew up around, like building site clothing and Argos uniforms, to research into into centuries-old tailoring techniques and cutting. I suppose its a way of elevating aesthetics that are slightly nostalgic to me, that are really vested with meaning and memory but, instead of appropriating those codes, trying to push them into a newer territory.
You built your early business by selling to private clients. Why did you want to include them in the show? How have your conversations and interactions with them informed what you do?
I have a really close relationship with all of my customers, and I value the conversations we have around clothes and the general state of this industry immensely. These women have been buying fashion for many years, and have incredible personal archives that are truly enriched by the stories and memories they have attached to them. Each woman is completely different, and I've always tried to avoid creating an “ideal” of this customer through bullet points or terms, which in turn allows me the freedom to avoid creating collections for a specific demographic or purely for commerce, which for me would be very painful. I’ve also learned a tonne of practical things by making clothes for these women – things like how often babies get sick and ruin good clothes, and the practical pressures of being one of these amazing women with a whole life to run outside of their work.
Sustainability is an incredibly important part of your brand. How is that reflected in the exhibition?
All of the pieces in the exhibition are made from ex-stock and repurposed knitting yarn destined for landfill, which has been left in a warehouse ever since school uniform manufacturing moved overseas. I’ve re-knitted it into recognisable rib fabrics, and then patchworked them together using every bit of waste. The cutting technique is circular, so everything fits almost ergonomically around the body, and shapes can be remade or altered for all body types. Excess fabric is re-patchworked into the next shape - so there’s a fluidity and relationship between each piece – a rinse, repeat effect.
Your work explores your personal roots – how has coming from a working class background informed your designs?
I think that your upbringing is an inevitable influence on your designs or creative output. Initially I was quite self conscious because, in art school, especially here, the majority of students are from upper middle class backgrounds or private schools. But I soon realised it was a strong point of difference to have, and to embrace it. It’s really important to have someone from that background represented and vocal, as most people from my background now just couldn't go to university: finding the fees is simply not possible.
My own cousins, who might see where I’ve gotten to and want to pursue something similar, realistically can’t. That breaks my heart. There is a section of the exhibition that is about sentimentality, of ways of designing or drawing that are directly linked to my home and family, particularly my grandmother. She only got as far as primary school education, but has been drawing and making her whole life. I find that love of making, and also that hunger for learning, incredibly inspiring because the odds of it happening were stacked against her since the beginning but she did it for her own enjoyment and curiosity. It’s the same with my parents, who really didn’t have a chance at second or third level education, but they really pushed their children to pursue what we were passionate about. I was working two part time jobs at Central Saint Martins just to get in the door, but it gave me a tunnel vision and a resilience that I can apply to anything.
That it’s democratic – the performance aspect of it is literally projected onto the outside of the building, so everybody can be involved. Underpinning it all is a sense of freedom, joy and of resistance: it takes a lot to be creative in these times, to ask questions and to expose why or how you're making, but its really very critical. Also including some of my grandmother Nellie's work in the exhibition makes me really proud: I have such massive respect and admiration for her, and she's super excited about it. A part of the exhibition is maybe a love letter to a lot of the people I really admire, who are mostly incredibly strong women, and showing how they have inspired my process.
It refers to the cyclical nature of fashion, to the actual process of making these huge collections. I want to remove the wall between the viewer or wearer and the artwork or garment, and be super open with how you get from scribbles and ideas to a finalised piece. I guess the title is also a nod to the shitty laundrettes I grew up surrounded by – one particular example, Marlowe’s Cleaners in Wexford, comes to mind. I love the language in those types of environments: totally functional and clear.
Can you explain the concept behind the exhibition? Why did you want to do it?
We kind of accept fashion now as small images on our phone screens that last little more than a few seconds, and the actual process can be totally overlooked. But the idea of experimenting, or making for making’s sake, is really critical to me, because I do all of the pattern cutting and fabric design myself. The reason I do what I do is down to the excitement and love of making something new – I never intended to be a product designer. This exhibition allows me to have a blank canvas to work within, and that’s super refreshing when my schedule is quite regimented due to the fashion show system. It’s almost been like giving myself a breather, and some really vital time for reflection. I always like to check myself and make sure I'm doing what I love, because I’m not a fan of a lot of the fashion industry and I don’t want to get drawn into a toxic cycle – or at least, want to resist it as much as I can.
How would you explain your approach to designing clothes? How would you define the Richard Malone brand?
It’s a mixture of being informed by actual clothing – from the sorts I grew up around, like building site clothing and Argos uniforms, to research into into centuries-old tailoring techniques and cutting. I suppose its a way of elevating aesthetics that are slightly nostalgic to me, that are really vested with meaning and memory but, instead of appropriating those codes, trying to push them into a newer territory.
You built your early business by selling to private clients. Why did you want to include them in the show? How have your conversations and interactions with them informed what you do?
I have a really close relationship with all of my customers, and I value the conversations we have around clothes and the general state of this industry immensely. These women have been buying fashion for many years, and have incredible personal archives that are truly enriched by the stories and memories they have attached to them. Each woman is completely different, and I've always tried to avoid creating an “ideal” of this customer through bullet points or terms, which in turn allows me the freedom to avoid creating collections for a specific demographic or purely for commerce, which for me would be very painful. I’ve also learned a tonne of practical things by making clothes for these women – things like how often babies get sick and ruin good clothes, and the practical pressures of being one of these amazing women with a whole life to run outside of their work.
Sustainability is an incredibly important part of your brand. How is that reflected in the exhibition?
All of the pieces in the exhibition are made from ex-stock and repurposed knitting yarn destined for landfill, which has been left in a warehouse ever since school uniform manufacturing moved overseas. I’ve re-knitted it into recognisable rib fabrics, and then patchworked them together using every bit of waste. The cutting technique is circular, so everything fits almost ergonomically around the body, and shapes can be remade or altered for all body types. Excess fabric is re-patchworked into the next shape - so there’s a fluidity and relationship between each piece – a rinse, repeat effect.
Your work explores your personal roots – how has coming from a working class background informed your designs?
I think that your upbringing is an inevitable influence on your designs or creative output. Initially I was quite self conscious because, in art school, especially here, the majority of students are from upper middle class backgrounds or private schools. But I soon realised it was a strong point of difference to have, and to embrace it. It’s really important to have someone from that background represented and vocal, as most people from my background now just couldn't go to university: finding the fees is simply not possible.
My own cousins, who might see where I’ve gotten to and want to pursue something similar, realistically can’t. That breaks my heart. There is a section of the exhibition that is about sentimentality, of ways of designing or drawing that are directly linked to my home and family, particularly my grandmother. She only got as far as primary school education, but has been drawing and making her whole life. I find that love of making, and also that hunger for learning, incredibly inspiring because the odds of it happening were stacked against her since the beginning but she did it for her own enjoyment and curiosity. It’s the same with my parents, who really didn’t have a chance at second or third level education, but they really pushed their children to pursue what we were passionate about. I was working two part time jobs at Central Saint Martins just to get in the door, but it gave me a tunnel vision and a resilience that I can apply to anything.
What are you particularly proud of in the exhibition?
That it’s democratic – the performance aspect of it is literally projected onto the outside of the building, so everybody can be involved. Underpinning it all is a sense of freedom, joy and of resistance: it takes a lot to be creative in these times, to ask questions and to expose why or how you're making, but its really very critical. Also including some of my grandmother Nellie's work in the exhibition makes me really proud: I have such massive respect and admiration for her, and she's super excited about it. A part of the exhibition is maybe a love letter to a lot of the people I really admire, who are mostly incredibly strong women, and showing how they have inspired my process.
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