Styled by Jessica Rowell. Modeled by Ulorin Vex. Photo by Tas Limur.
Fashion, architecture, and interior design all speak to the ways in which we design our environments and ourselves. Fashion allows us to communicate our personalities and values through our appearance and our clothing; meanwhile, architecture and interior design let us communicate our personalities and values through our homes and workplaces, both inside and out.
Digital Grotesque (Grotto Side 1—Test Assembly) by Michael Hansmeyer and Benjamin Dillenburger. This structure is designed according to a complex mathematical algorithm and 3-D printed out of sand.
Today, Steampunk and retro-futurism are providing both DIY and professional designers with an expanded toolbox and a more sophisticated palette for expressing individuality and personal flair. “Steampunk has reintroduced an appreciation of beauty, craftsmanship, and detail into all areas of design, including industrial and interior decoration, by fusing fantasy with utility,” says Jema Hewitt, one of the Steampunk scene’s favorite costume and jewelry designers. (Hewitt has also written several books on Steampunk culture and design, with more hands-on projects and tips for the creatively inclined.) “Modern design has a tendency toward reductionism, paring away until just the functional minimum, the bleached bones, are left. Steampunk has put the muscle, skin, clothing, and trinkets back; the detail, the whimsy, the fun.”
Many people have embraced the Steampunk aesthetic in their homes and in their personal attire simply because they love the way it looks. It’s no surprise; the aesthetic is pleasing. For interiors, Steampunk design creates a welcoming atmosphere—accomplished craftsmanship, a cozy color palette, intriguing knickknacks, and well-aged antiques—offering styling that’s simultaneously both rugged and opulent. For clothing, Steampunk represents a flexible and highly customizable range of looks and accessories, running the gamut from elaborate black tie and ball gowns to more serviceable, off-the-rack street wear.
For others, however, Steampunk design is a political statement. It’s a fashion-forward way of turning something old into something new, saving both money and the environment in the process. Retro-futurism is a kind of cohesive set of design principles based around the edict “reduce/reuse/recycle.” And it’s a way of declaring that even if your shopping is limited to thrift stores, consignment shops, and other people’s basements, you can still have a personal style of which to be proud.
How Retro-futurism Is Influencing Fashion, Architecture, and Interior Design
Fashion
From head-to-toe costuming (complete with props), to cutting-edge couture, to more practical everyday wear, Steampunk style is incredibly versatile. The look is making waves at convention costume contests and on the catwalk, and it’s also influencing broader style trends. Nowadays, well-dressed hipsters are sporting suspenders, leather boots, vintage dresses, handlebar mustaches, and elegant updos. In other words, retro-futurism offers a sartorial gold mine of exciting new looks.
For costume designer Paige Gardner Smith, necessity was the mother of invention, as she also longed to both create and live her retro-futuristic vision. She dreamed of creating Victorian-style working automatons, but did not possess the skills or the resources to set up a full-scale fabrication and welding workshop. So instead, she turned to the use of costuming and props to replicate the look and feel of an automaton as best she could, and began creating and performing the automaton character herself, using her own body as the canvas. “Using simple hacks to repurpose salvaged items into elements of costuming, I am able to immerse myself—figuratively and literally—in Steampunk design. The ability to express myself artistically, using my own form as a frame, continues to inspire every new project. The fact that I can ‘inhabit’ what I build remains the most compelling aspect of every costume journey.”
Other approaches include designer Amanda Scrivener’s philosophy of starting with the accessorizing: “Combining vintage or historical styles and punking those up!” Scrivener’s diverse talents in textiles, metal, and leather shine through in her one-of-a-kind creations, which definitely bring together the daintily vintage and the rebelliously punk into one boldly embellished package. Scrivener markets her bespoke accessories via her steamsona, Professor Maelstromme. Looking to the future, she says: “We have already seen designers on the catwalk incorporating traditional countryside dress, tweeds, and plaids with strong adventure influences. I can see it will go mainstream, too, as you can take from it smaller elements of the style.”
Of course, while some designers might interpret the Steampunk aesthetic with an emphasis on “countryside chic”—something like what a gathering of fashion-forward Victorian ladies and gentlemen might wear on a hunting party in the woods—there are plenty of other ways to play it. Though the landed gentry and the convention-bucking adventurers dominate our tales of the Victorian era, the fact is, the vast majority of people then were working-class or middle-class, just like now. There were servants and waitstaff, stable boys and scullery maids, coal shovelers and factory workers, not to mention lawyers, doctors, and ministers and their daughters and wives. It was a particularly regimented time, and each of these individuals had their own established style of dress. Sure, it’s probably more fun to dress up as a wealthy lady than a scullery maid. But high fashion does not demand any particular allegiance to the historicity of a particular costume; there’s no reason a developing Steampunk fashion sense can’t draw on details and inspiration from the nineteenth century’s total range of social experience.
Part of the process of becoming accomplished as a designer is developing your own distinctive vision, a personal vernacular in which to fluently express your aesthetic sensibilities. And, as Jema Hewitt points out, these sensibilities don’t just vary from person to person; there is also a geographic element. Steampunk fashion also varies from place to place, with different cultures interpreting their visions of the past in unique ways.
Hewitt says, “I’ve really noticed a huge difference around the world in the way different groups dress, so in the UK there is an emphasis on beautifully made Victorian gowns with carefully researched patterns and natural fabrics; there’s also a lot of genuine Victorian military uniforms. In Scandinavian Steampunk, there is more leather, metal, and studs—almost an armored look—while lots of American neo-Victorian costume seems to be more angled toward fantasy with a sense of playfulness, often using very modern materials and color palettes, recognizable characters or themes.”
With this work in progress, Molly Crabapple gives us a glimpse of her creative process in action—the sketch is an imaginative rendering of what Steampunk costuming might look like as influenced by the retro-futuristic impulses of another culture. “The court dancer’s costume is made from light itself. Her petticoat and sari are the latest in fabricized chip technology, changing color with the pulses of the music and trailing star dust with each of her motions. She wears a crown of LED planets, and a cold, electric fire shoots from her hands. In this steampunked Bombay, she is the height of culture and couture.”
Fashion designers have long mined the past, studying historic looks and adapting them to the present. Sometimes these forays result in technologically advanced outfits that look as if they come from out of an idealized past. A few luxury brands have produced notably retro-futurist lines. Nicolas Ghesquière, head designer at Balenciaga from 1997 to 2012, was lauded for imparting a modern sheen to his house’s futuristic design archive. Many Steampunks pointed with knowing pride to Prada’s Fall 2012 menswear campaign, which featured actors Willem Dafoe, Gary Oldman, Garrett Hedlund, and Jamie Bell attired in ensembles that would delight a retrofuturist gentleman. Alexander McQueen’s fashions have often drawn upon a Victorian or Edwardian silhouette, incorporating bustles, padded hiplines, corsets, and tiny cinched-in waists. These shapes, coupled with the original designer’s interest in science, technology, and innovative textiles, resulted in a particular and distinctive brand of retro-futurist creation.
Lee Alexander McQueen, founder of the Alexander McQueen label, was a hero to so many. Before his suicide in 2010, fashion students and aspiring young designers either wanted to work for him or to be him. Known for his sharp tailoring and theatrical runway shows, McQueen was hailed as a genius, and at the same time, he was often referred to as the “bad boy of British fashion.”
Born into a working-class London family—his father drove a cab and his mother was a homemaker—the young McQueen evinced an early interest in fashion. At the age of three, he drew Cinderella in a voluminous ball gown on the wall of his sister’s room. Despite his desire to study art, McQueen left school as a teen and worked as an apprentice at Anderson & Sheppard, a leading Savile Row tailor. After a few years, he moved to Gieves & Hawkes, another respected Savile Row establishment. At Bermans & Nathans, the renowned costumers, McQueen learned to cut historic patterns, working on the clothing for the London stage production of Les Misérables. Changing gears again, McQueen landed a job with avant-garde designer Koji Tatsuno, whose label was backed by the internationally lauded Yohji Yamamoto. Tatsuno, who had a small boutique in Mayfair, describes his studio of the late 1980s as a hangout spot for young designers, including McQueen and Julien Macdonald. “I gave them space to be freely creative,” says Tatsuno. “Many of them didn’t go to school, and I’m very happy that many of them later on became great designers.” McQueen also worked for John McKitterick, designer of the label Red or Dead and the creator of the anatomically correct gay Billy doll, and was a design assistant for Romeo Gigli in Milan.
Jill Anderson’s Viking Jacket, crafted from gold leaf brocade with snap details, blends history with technology. Modeled by Erina Davidson. Photo by Meredith Zinner Photography.
Jill Anderson’s Italian Widow Dress, which comes in a variety of colors and fabrics, is inspired by uniforms, common for retro-futurist styles. Modeled by Erina Davidson. Photo by Meredith Zinner Photography.
With all this on-the-job training under his belt, McQueen applied for a position teaching pattern cutting at Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design. Bobby Hillson, the head of the college’s MA fashion course, liked McQueen’s portfolio. Instead of offering him a job, though, she offered him a place as a student. McQueen enrolled in the course and, sixteen months later, presented his graduate collection with the class of 1992. McQueen’s six-outfit collection, which was inspired by Jack the Ripper’s female victims, incorporated fashion elements from the 1880s along with avant-garde flourishes. Isabella Blow, the noted stylist, was fascinated by McQueen’s work and famously purchased the whole collection on an installment plan. Blow became McQueen’s promoter and muse, wearing his clothes on the streets of London and in the pages of Vogue.
“Nihilism,” Alexander McQueen’s Spring 1994 collection, received the designer’s first professional catwalk show. His scantily clad models, who appeared to be smeared with blood, shocked the audience and got the attention of the press. McQueen’s next collection, “Banshee” (Fall 1994), further explored retro-futuristic themes—a pregnant skinhead with McQueen’s name inked in silver on her shaved head modeled a sheer black dress with a revealing Elizabethan neckline, while another model sported a perfectly tailored Victorian-style frock coat with metallic lapels over bare legs and a pair of transparent plastic boots. The crowd and the press enthused about McQueen’s work, the Observer dubbing him the “star of the week.”
Over the years, McQueen’s shows grew into increasingly elaborate and controversial affairs, resembling performance art and the fine art of the period. Despite any controversy, the fashion establishment had its eye on McQueen. In October 1996, McQueen was appointed head designer at Givenchy. McQueen took up the reins at that venerable Parisian house and continued to design his own line, producing six collections a year. Shortly after his appointment at Givenchy, McQueen won the British Designer of the Year award from the British Fashion Council. He was recognized by the BFC three more times—in 1997, 2001, and 2003. In October 2003, he received a Commander of the Order of the British Empire medal from Queen Elizabeth II.
After leaving Givenchy in 2001, McQueen expanded his company and continued to produce innovative and often disturbing runway shows for his own label. While his shows often incorporated gothic elements—skulls, bones, and other macabre details—his designs also embodied a retro-futurist aesthetic. The punk princesses who paraded around a silk-wrapped tree during the first half of his Fall 2008 ready-to-wear show displayed crinoline frocks and precisely cut military tailcoats along with a bold, forward-looking attitude. For both Spring 2009 and Spring 2010, McQueen created digitally engineered prints inspired by evolution, which were sewn into his signature shapes—corset dresses, frock coats, and narrow-legged pants. In addition to being retro and futuristic, the Spring 2010 collection also had a dystopian theme. McQueen imagined a time when the polar ice caps have melted, and humans, with the aid of bioengineering, have returned to the sea.
Numerous independent and regional designers also create in a retro-futurist vein: Samantha R. Crossland, who has worked under the Blasphemina’s Closet label and is now producing under the name Samantha Rei; Zoh Rothberg, whose Morrigan New York, a Brooklyn-based design studio, puts out gothic Lolita looks and will soon be producing Victorian-style garments, incorporating high-tech fabrics; and Philadelphia-based Autumnlin, who designs both Heartless Revival, a ready-to-wear line, and Autumnlin Atelier, limited-edition garments. Jill Anderson debuted her eponymous label in Athens, Greece, in 1989. Six years later, she opened a boutique in Manhattan’s East Village, which came to be known as the go-to shop for artistic and intellectual women.
Anderson focuses on wearability and functionality, drawing inspiration from working women of the past, historic garments, and vintage fabrics. Her Italian Widow Dress, a shop best seller, has become a retro-futurist uniform for many. The dress, which was inspired by Anderson’s experience of living abroad, features a narrow sleeve, which allows for ease of movement. The designer explains that a more fitted sleeve and shoulder line, which are typically found in vintage garments, facilitate movement of the arm, a necessary function for working women of all eras. Inspired by E. J. Bellocq’s photographs of New Orleans prostitutes in the early twentieth century, Anderson created her Parachute Dress, which has become a staple of downtown weddings and can also be dressed down and worn to the office. The Parachute Dress, with its fitted bodice and full-flounced hem, echoes a Victorian silhouette and thus has caught the eye of many a Steampunk lass. All of Anderson’s handmade creations feature her signature architectural construction paired with vintage allusions, resulting in timeless styles that capture the best of yesterday and tomorrow. Sadly, escalating rents forced Anderson’s brick-and-mortar store to close in November 2013. But her designs live on, on the streets of New York and possibly soon in the digital realms of cyberspace.
Katherine Gleason is the author of Anatomy of Steampunk: The Fashion of Victorian Futurism and Alexander McQueen: Evolution, a book about the late designer’s runway shows.
Jill Anderson’s Italian Widow Dress in autumn-hued plaid flannel. Modeled by Raven Jensen. Photo by Meredith Zinner Photography.
Architecture and Interior Design
It’s taken on a number of different forms, but minimalism in one expression or another has been the dominant aesthetic in architecture and interior design for some time. Now Steampunk offers a vivid counterpoint and welcome contrast, along with its associated subgenres like Dieselpunk, Rococopunk, Noirpunk, and so on. These rich and visually stimulating looks draw on the baroque sensibilities of the Victorians and the heavily ornamented styles of art nouveau, or the gritty aesthetic of up-and-coming industry: burnished concrete, cracked brick, and exposed pipes.
Taken by itself, the “industrial look” has been around for quite a while. As designer J. W. Kinsey puts it, “It has not arrived, as it has never left: It has been here since Victorian England and the Industrial Revolution.” It’s an aesthetic born of total practicality; the brick buildings of yesteryear were built to last, to withstand winter and summer, fire and flood. And in many old city centers, they have lasted indeed, standing firm and proud while more recent construction has fallen into decay. Now these old industrial buildings are being refurbished, renovated, and reclaimed to beautiful effect, another one of retro-futurism’s sneaky influences on the outside world.
Art Donovan is best known for his inventive and elegant lighting designs. “Steampunk was the perfect storm of all my previous experiences,” he says. “When I was four, I was so obsessed with the imagery of the old gaslit Sherlock Holmes movies that I made a makeshift deerstalker hat out of my brother’s baseball caps—complete with an oversized magnifying glass (a paper plate).” After this early foray into Steampunk craftsmanship, Donovan became an avid fan of science fiction films, and went on to become a designer and illustrator for sci-fi-centric toy companies. Later, his designs began to incorporate an art deco aesthetic. He concludes: “There was always a vintage or historic influence in my work, but Steampunk was that unique spark that tied together all of my lifelong enthusiasms.”
When it comes to retro-futuristic interiors, Donovan’s expertise is impressively extensive. He describes the industrial aesthetic as “the simpler, real-world version of Steampunk.” According to Donovan, this look has been in vogue for nearly forty years. “In the late 1960s, niche retailers like United House Wrecking were offering all manner of vintage industrial, farm, and nautical detritus for accent pieces and furnishings. In the seventies and eighties, old industrial urban lofts were being converted for full-time art studios and residential use—complete with exposed plumbing pipes, overhead doors, and exposed structural beams and electrical conduits. It’s evident that this raw, industrial aesthetic has been firmly established in interior design. But the new Steampunk design movement goes well beyond this original visual vocabulary. It’s much more technically based and heavily infused with nineteenth-century science fact and fantasy elements.” In other words, the special sauce that takes a space from merely industrial to genuinely retro-futuristic often lies solely in the judicious use of accessories.
Tanya Clarke is another lighting designer whose “Liquid Light” assemblages create the impression of a drop of water, brightly illuminated from within and poised infinitely on the edge of falling—a look as fanciful and surreal as it is industrial. Clarke comments, “Just as the world is becoming more and more blended, an attraction toward a blending of aesthetics is occurring. Steampunk seems to embrace this attraction by blending textures and natural materials in a 3-D format, with the added flair of theatricality.”
In fact, theatricality is a great lens through which to view the Steampunk look. It’s that melodrama, that enigmatic sense of both narrative and performance, which sets Steampunk apart from other design approaches. At times, the impression can be almost intimidatingly immersive, especially in cases where enterprising designers have created interior spaces outfitted in Steampunk style from baseboards to rafters and wall to wall (more on this shortly). The effect is enchanting and magical, but it can also be a bit overwhelming. A “fully loaded” Steampunk space tends to oversaturate the senses; its brassy look is better for a high-gloss photo spread than a much lived-in living room.
Most, however, are using retro-futurism as just one element in their interior design. As Art Donovan explains, “Some enthusiasts would surely love to live the fantasy 24-7, but that is akin to living in a theme park (and that’s not the desire of my own architectural clients). My personal rule of thumb for how much of a rich, aggressive style to employ in any given environment is directly proportional to the amount of time someone spends in that environment.” Donovan offers the example of a restaurant, where each patron may only spend a couple of hours at a time, and the Steampunk elements can be a lot more aggressive: “You have much more flexibility in adding richer and more eye-popping details.” Likewise for a hotel lobby or other public-use areas. “But since homes and apartments are where we spend the greatest part of our life, Steampunk is most effective when used sparingly and in combination with an eclectic mix of details and complementary finishes. Here the last thing I’d want to see is overkill in a Steampunk design application. . . . Keeping all these considerations in mind, I believe Steampunk is now clearly a strong and desirable style for artwork and interior design elements.”
Bruce Rosenbaum espouses a similar principle. Rosenbaum is the founder of ModVic, a Steampunk art and design company. ModVic—short for Modern Victorian—grew out of an epic restoration project that he and his wife, Melanie, undertook on their own Victorian Craftsman-style home, originally built in 1901. Together, they founded ModVic in 2007, and it has grown into a successful design and consulting firm. Their design theory is based on the idea of combining opposites—like blending today’s cutting-edge technology with the atmospheric elegance of Victorian design.
Rosenbaum says, “My creative design process employs ‘Janusian Thinking’—the combining and synthesizing of opposite ideas (think of a hammer—pounding and removing nails in one single object). Steampunk design is the essence of Janusian Thinking and creates a creative problem-solving process that is wide open—with no self-imposed barriers or restrictions.” Both in life and in design, balance is indispensable, particularly when taking retro-futuristic design to the mainstream.
On the other hand, there are times when it’s just better to go a little overboard. On the next few pages, we profile two striking spaces where the designers followed their instincts and pushed Steampunk to its limits.
Office space by architectural and design firm Because We Can for game development studio Three Rings in San Francisco.
Three Rings Interior—Because We Can
Because We Can is an architecture and design studio in Oakland, California. Originally led by husband-and-wife team Jeffrey McGrew and Jillian Northrup, the studio has now grown into “a five-person powerhouse.” They describe the shop as “a new kind of architecture firm: a Design-Build Studio.” In other words, they both envision and execute the design, managing everything from brainstorming to production. To do this, they draw on the varied skills of architects, builders, fabricators, and even a few robots in their high-tech fabrication shop.
Northrup says, “We pride ourselves in being able to produce just about anything. We do not limit ourselves to the initial ideas of what can and cannot be done. We think first about what would make the project the absolute best it can be. Then we figure out how to make that happen. We use the latest technology in software and digital fabrication to add efficiency and ingenuity to every project.”
Perhaps because of their DIY attitude, the shop has been especially popular with clients aiming for a retro-futuristic aesthetic, with projects such as the “Mad Scientist Home Workshop,” a fantastical workspace built into a private residence, or the “Long Now Salon,” a remodeled event space for the Long Now Foundation that suggests the best intellectual gathering places of yesteryear.
One of our favorite projects, however—and one of the shop’s first undertakings—is the office of Three Rings, a game development studio in San Francisco. Northrup says, “The main reason for this office was to create an amazing and fun space for the staff to work in that would inspire and delight.” The idea they finally hit on was fully Steampunk, with a heavy dose of inspiration taken from the interior of Jules Verne’s Nautilus.
Once again applying the principle of DIY, Three Rings’ employees had a chance to design and customize their own desks using a template provided by Because We Can. The shop also built a special gaming table, designed a bar for the lounge with Willy Wonka–esque levels of whimsy, and used ten-dollar off-the-shelf lights from Ikea inside specially fabricated clawlike frames for lighting that was both unique and affordable. There is even a special seating arrangement comprised of giant beanbags (the largest measures twenty feet long) that look an awful lot like squid tentacles; the throw pillows are adorable baby octopi. Surely, however, the space’s coup de grâce is a bookshelf that swings aside to reveal a secret room hidden behind it—truly the makings of a Victorian genius’s secret lair.
Northrup says, “We, of course, think architecture and interiors are very important and can be amazing, magical places. When we are designing, we are just creating a place we want to be, or a place we feel the client wants to be. They are each their own magical pockets with their own surrounding feelings as you experience the space.”
Truth Coffee Shop Interior—Haldane Martin
One of the most striking retro-futuristic interiors we’ve ever seen is Truth, a Steampunk-style coffee shop, bar, and restaurant in Cape Town, South Africa. While the Three Rings interior is fun, playful, and a little bit tongue-in-cheek, Truth’s design, by innovative architect and designer Haldane Martin, is gritty, gorgeous, and as contemporary as it is vintage.
To begin with, Martin’s firm chose a great canvas; the coffee shop is housed in a three-story warehouse building that dates back to the turn of the century. They stripped the building back to the essentials, exposing original stone, brick, and cast iron. The ground floor of this building houses Truth. “The old building that the Truth Coffee partners bought for their coffee roastery is in an edgy fringe district of Cape Town that is slowly transforming into a creative and innovative neighborhood,” says Martin. “This area also happens to be the oldest part of Cape Town, dating back three hundred fifty years, and was the original shipping warehouse district before the new harbor was built. Truth Coffee HQ has become the new kingpin in this district by embracing the gritty, authentic past at the same time as bringing something unexpected and new. The fact that this is a working space—Truth Coffee roasts and distributes their coffee from here—keeps things real. The venue also works as an event space in the evenings, with the electro-swing scene taking full advantage of the Steampunk and low-light ambience. The space really enhances the fantasy, escapist purpose of a good party.”
Truth’s decor includes antique telephones, typewriters, and Singer sewing machines, collected by coffee shop owner David Donde. Donde is apparently somewhat of an inventor himself; he’s currently working on developing a small-scale steam-powered cell phone charger. “One thing that retro-futurism highlights is all this old technology that is still around,” says Martin. “As it has been around for a while, it tends to be quite economical. Repurposing it for new contexts and needs could create a lot of true innovation.”
As a matter of fact, it was Haldane Martin’s interior design intern Ruben Basson who came up with the idea of using Steampunk. “He put forward Steampunk as a conceptual reference when we were busy with the Truth Coffee concept stage,” Martin tells us. “We showed it to our client, David Donde, and he loved it. He really identified with Steampunk, as he already was a crazy genius-inventor type. Now he had found a name for it.”
The decor of the space revolves around the vintage roaster, a three-ton piece of machinery that is both totally beautiful and fully functional (a great principle for retro-futurism). Another major feature of the space is a twenty-five-foot communal table, built from industrial pipe and topped with Oregon pine reclaimed from the building itself. And the entire space is outfitted with purpose-designed seating, from overstuffed leather chairs to vintage bar stools.
Interior of Truth Coffee, with Franck Kabamba. Interior design by Haldane Martin. Styling by Leasa Mensing. Photo by Shanna Jones.
“We were both clear that there would be no fake Steampunk decor applied to the space,” says Martin. “This suited my more pared-down, modernist, Bauhaus-aesthetic inclinations, and this honest philosophy is also central to the Truth Coffee brand.” However, he says, they always worked with fun in mind. “Even though we invested thousands of hours into this iconic Steampunk space, we don’t take it too seriously. It’s ultimately just another frivolous style that we all had fun exploring. Kind of like a fancy dress party.”
The Future of Steampunk Fashion and Design: In with the Old and the New
Goggles and gears, pocket watches and brass keys are Steampunk’s “clichés,” but also an “easy shorthand,” as Paige Gardner Smith puts it; they are translatable across all media and serve a purpose “much as peace symbols and neon flowers become quick iconic tags for hippie counterculture.” Still, the ubiquity of these symbols can pose a dilemma for designers. How do you build on the familiar while moving past the mundane? Here are a few ideas.
Fashion
“One trend I’m happy to see evolving in alternate-history costume design is the use of bright colors,” Smith says. “The ‘go-to’ palette of brown and brass is falling away. Costumers are really starting to taste the rainbow of color and hue, which permeated an era that was only photographed in sepia tones.”
You’ll find examples of nontraditional Steampunk color choices throughout this book, but thinking about color is just a start. Another way to think about getting somewhere new is to let unusual items inspire you.
As artist and fashion designer Kristin Costa says, “I think people who wish to separate themselves as liking Steampunk as more than just a passing trend are starting to find fresh things to feature in their outfits and projects by digging more deeply through antique shops and searching a bit harder for their details. I personally love using antique hardware in unusual ways, and like seeing how other people do it as well.”
Costa received her formal training at New York’s Pratt Institute. Her interests are varied and her talents are versatile, extending from freelance costuming to a seasonal fashion line; her portfolio includes productions from television to puppetry. Her work is unified by a weirdly enchanting aesthetic that draws on retro-futurism in all kinds of interesting ways.
Costa has found opportunities to push boundaries with her holiday collection. “I am going . . . back to some pseudo-Victorian designs, inspired by Dickensian imagery of street urchins.”
The aesthetic draws on the DIY and reduce/reuse/recycle aspects of Steampunk, and, according to Costa, is inspired in part “by the resourcefulness one needs when they are down on their luck.” She adds, “This collection is inspired by all the times that I had to use supplies from my grandparents’ garage to create showpieces for projects because I couldn’t afford supplies. There were times during art school where half the class’s paintings were on the backs of cereal boxes or boards found in the dumpster because we couldn’t afford good canvas. It has made me into a more resilient designer. I actively try to recycle now, but there were and probably always will be times in which it is necessary to elevate common materials into fashion because of financial restraints.”
Smith is also experimenting with the use of reclaimed materials. Giving new life to old stuff is practical from a budgeting perspective, it’s pragmatic considering our current environmental crises, and it can also make a powerful statement. Take, for example, Smith’s Tornado Jane piece. This work incorporates debris that Smith collected in the wake of the tornadoes that devastated her home state of Alabama in April 2011.
Eric Scotolati portraying Feste in Curio Theatre’s Steampunk production of Twelfth Night. Photo by Kyle Cassidy.
Steampunk DevaDasis (2013) by Suna Dasi, featuring Suna Dasi and Meghan Ghent (right). Photo by Art Attack Films.
“It was almost therapeutic, looking past the devastation, wanting to see with new eyes, bits of wreckage that could reemerge as art,” Smith says. “It was my hope to combine beautiful repurposing with haunting remembrance and give a second life to these disparate elements in the wake of that shocking disaster.” Tornado Jane is a stately and somewhat inscrutable piece, following the “Victorian automaton” aesthetic that informs much of Smith’s work. It reads as the regalia of a survivor, and its history gives it weight.
Smith adds, “Steampunk is recycling, in my estimation. We’ve taken a ‘used’ era, refurbished and refitted it with modern, forward-thinking elements to give it a second life as Steampunk. This recycling of history allows authors, costumers, designers, and more creative minds to select the best aspects of Victoriana—the romantic flavors, the aesthetics—while altering the history with some political corrections and improvements—especially from a feminist and multicultural perspective. I see recycling in my costume art as a clear extension and integral part of the Steampunk directive.”
The Road to Atlantis by Maurice Grunbaum and Olivier Dreamkeeper. Photo by DECCO. With these biopunk influenced costumes, Grunbaum envisions a great steam-powered civilization based on the fantastical island of Atlantis or the mythical lost continent, Mu. In this alternate vision that wanders far beyond the traditional Victorian milieu, recycled seashells are the basis for another kind of steam.
Many designers find that their best pieces draw on something close to their heart. Likewise, design is often most interesting and innovative when it arises authentically from the experiences and cultural context of its maker.
To that end, costume designer Maurice Grunbaum urges the aspiring Steampunk to explore their own cultural heritage as they develop their personal look. Not only does this kind of exploration create fascinating and informative juxtapositions, it broadens the reach and definition of Steampunk itself. Grunbaum says, “When we think about the word ‘Steampunk,’ every Steamer has a subconscious image of an aesthetic based on the British Victorian era. It evokes mustachioed gentlemen, aristocrats with frock coats, dandies wearing exploration glasses on their top hats while flying their revolutionary dirigibles. . . . Alas, a lot of people tend to stick to that description and not explore any further.”
But, he says, “the Victorian model is only one side of the multifaceted, vast, and rich Steampunk world. . . . To me, the richness of the Steampunk movement is its cultural diversity that spans way out of the ideological or political barriers set in the real nineteenth century. . . . What makes the movement so rich and vivid is its own capacity of perpetual renewal.”
Ballroom Luminoso by Joe O’Connell and Blessing Hancock, commissioned by Public Art San Antonio (PASA) and installed at the Theo & Malone Underpass at IH 35, San Antonio, Texas. Photo by Fred Gonzales.
Architecture and Interior Design
Steampunk and retro-futurism have already made their collective mark on interior design, creating a look that can be easily categorized, and just as easily replicated. Though this look certainly hasn’t reached the saturation point that one might term “cliché,” it is fast becoming mainstream.
“The strong visual elements of the antique sciences and science fiction have never been seen in such abundance until Steampunk became popular,” notes Art Donovan. “Antique maps, globes, orreries, clockwork mechanisms, nautical charts, and surveyor equipment have always been popular with decorators as antique additions to traditional homes and eclectic interiors. But in Steampunk, the unique, creative mash-up of vintage and contemporary devices is at the very core of the aesthetic and creative process.”
The breadth of Steampunk’s boundaries sets it apart from past movements in interior design. This flexibility can also have downsides, however. “As of 2013, Steampunk has been so firmly infused into architects’ and designers’ vocabularies that it’s become an officially listed category on vintage merchant sites and in auction catalogs. This last part, however, is a double-edged sword because it allows merchants and dealers to call any antique industrial object ‘Steampunk.’ This inaccurate labeling is a marketing ploy used by sellers to attract a wider audience.” Donovan argues that these items are not genuinely Steampunk—they are merely antique. They lack the whimsical or altered technological qualities that would distinguish them from basic Victoriana.
What does “authenticity” mean in terms of Steampunk? Perhaps the efforts of Steampunk art and design company ModVic, which strives to create a more authentic vernacular for the Steampunk interior, exemplifies one approach. ModVic is rooted in both the past and the future. As owner Bruce Rosenbaum explains, ModVic “repurposes and infuses modern technology into period antiques and salvage objects.” The company’s process involves hunting down “personal, meaningful objects, creatively combining them with relevant and cool period objects and machinery to transform the ordinary into incredible Steampunk functional art. The Steampunk art and design process celebrates history, while setting a path for a reimagined better future.”
What does that better future hold? Steampunk is having at least one important effect on interior design and architecture as a whole: a renewed focus on craftsmanship, with a greater attention to detail. In recent decades, a lot of new construction has been overly focused on efficiency, cutting costs at the expense of quality. This type of approach had led to bland, monotonous, and shoddily constructed buildings: fast to build and affordable to buy, yet lacking the warmth and character of the construction of yesteryear. But people are longing once again for homes where every detail has been carefully planned, where each individual element has been made by a craftsperson who takes a real interest in the lasting quality of their work. As jewelry designer Friston comments on the Victorian age, “Artisans of that era were superb. Even a doorknob was designed with great skill and craftsmanship.” It would be wonderful to see resurgence in built environments crafted with that same degree of attention and care.
A Reel-to-Reel Recording Machine by J. W. Kinsey, created for a web series called The Record Keeper.
For our intrepid correspondents from the world of fashion and design, it seems that one beautiful thing often leads to another. Our interviewees spoke glowingly of the inspiration they find in the finer things in life, from rousing art to well-made objects to the grandeur of nature itself.
“I’m always inspired by anything visually stimulating! I love films with unique sets and costumes, especially if they incorporate an amazing story. My favorite directors are Wes Anderson, Julie Taymor, and Tim Burton. My favorite painters are Jenny Saville, Steven Assael, and Michael Hussar for the visceral way they portray human beings, and John Singer Sargent, John William Waterhouse, and the Pre-Raphaelite painters for their portrayal of fantastical stories and fabric. I love the JUXTAPOSITION of gritty realism against ethereal otherworldliness.”
—Kristin Costa
“My wife Leslie’s incredibly sharp sense of styling. Science fact and science fiction. The esoteric arts. Freemasonry. Ancient architecture. ARCHAEOLOGY and THE MYSTERIOUS, dimly lit corners of an old English library room interrupted by a single candle flame. All that—and a shop full of TOOLS and RAW MATERIALS. In my work, there is something elusive that I am always attempting to describe. I’m never fully satisfied. I’ll keep working until I feel I’ve captured it. That ‘it.’ The thing that looks like the object in the center of the universe. Whatever the hell ‘it’ looks like. (I suspect it’s spherical.)”
—Art Donovan
“A pattern of vintage braid on a Pinterest board, the color of a leaf in autumn or a cocktail in a book I happen to be reading, a late-night conversation or a visit to a museum. I try to cram my life full of wonderful things, and most of them rub off and filter down through my brain into a weird new mix that is UNIQUELY MINE. The main thing I need is time and space to work the ideas through.”
—Jema Hewitt
“I have always felt a connection to designers like Christian Lacroix and Alexander McQueen. The HAUTE COUTURE of the fashion world inspires me and keeps me designing the kinds of things that may be reserved for specialty now . . . but seen on the streets of the world in the future when we are no longer so self-conscious of what others think of us.”
—Morrigana Townsend-Pehlke
“BEAUTIFUL and well-made period objects and new, engaging technology. Ideas hit me with the full force of life itself. I see the past, present, and future merging all at once—like a time machine in my own mind. I’m motivated to push my art and design forward because it’s what I love, what makes me feel good about getting up in the morning and making the day happen.”
—Bruce Rosenbaum
“I admire diverse forms of beauty and will seek inspiration in nature or from my surroundings. When realizing projects, I tend to start with one element. This could be a single sheet of fabric, an appliqué, or maybe even something as small as a button. It’s then my objective to build upon or around the starting element, and sometimes it may end up subdued or hidden amongst what I’ve created around it. For each piece, the starting element is uniquely its own, and I’ll continue to build upon a piece until I feel there’s a sense of synergy.”
—Jessica Rowell
“Museums, historical places, curios, and stories inspire me. I really love creating, seeing the design take form, and the problem solving.”
—Amanda Scrivener
“Most of my work is inspired by one simple item, a vintage element or salvaged piece that begs a costume to grow organically around it. For example, the Steampunk Bird Hybrid idea grew from an earring that looked like the tip of a bird’s talon. As the COSTUME evolves and develops, so does the story behind it.”
—Paige Gardner Smith
Steampunk Fashion and Design: A DIY State of Mind
Do you remember your first craft project? Maybe it was a dress or a skirt, labored over with scissors, needle, and thread. Perhaps it was a hand-painted lamp or a hand-stenciled border on a wall. Or possibly it was something for the garden: a handmade bench, a whimsical sculpture, or a well-crafted arch. Whatever it was, it was the sign of many greater things to come.
You’re not alone. Many fashion and interior designers were first drawn to this type of work because they loved the feeling of working with their hands: the texture of fabric, paper, and paint; the Zen-like flow of deep concentration; and the immediate reward of a finished piece of work. (Even if the results aren’t always quite as envisioned!) So it’s no surprise that many continue to value the DIY approach and prize those hours in the studio where they can get back to basics and work with their hands once more.
Kristin Costa can certainly relate to this feeling. “I’ve always done everything myself,” she says. “I feel like if I can’t be a hands-on designer, then there’s no point in designing, since the making of things is what makes me happy. Eventually, I may have to outsource, but the sample runs of each collection will always be made by me.”
“DIY is essentially where my craft started,” agrees fellow fashion designer Jessica Rowell. “As far back as I can remember, I have always altered my own clothes. . . . Long before I was designing, I used DIY as a method of self-expression. My art teacher used to tell me, ‘One day we’re going to have the class sketch you.’ She truly thought I was a walking piece of art. When I eventually became a part of the cosplay scene, I learned to turn DIY into technique through years of trial and error. A lot of my works were extremely experimental in that sense.”
Jema Hewitt’s interest in clothing design also began developing when she was a young girl. “I always made my own clothes,” she says. “My mother was an excellent seamstress, and I was a chubby little girl who couldn’t ever find clothes that fit and had very distinct ideas of what they should look like.” As the old saying goes, if you want something done right, do it yourself! And in fact, having a specific vision of something you’d like to have, with no idea where to get it except to make it with your own two hands, is wonderful motivation for learning new creative skills.
Paige Gardner Smith declares that “DIY is not only my method but my message as well.” While Smith can manage the odd bit of hand-stitching, she says that sewing machines and patterns are more likely to give her a “cold sweat.” So when she began planning her first Steampunk costume, she turned to some simple hacks and shortcuts to cut down on stitches. “Glue, safety pins, staples, grommets, and shoelaces took the place of sewing. To make up for my lack of metalworking and leather-riveting skills, I sought leather, plastic, and metal pieces with existing holes so I could hook or wire them together.” Finding a way to assemble costumes without sewing is its own fun, unique challenge. And, Smith says, sharing these tips and tricks can be a good way to offer a down-to-earth welcome to aspiring costumers finding their way. “It’s become my favorite pleasure to share the hacks and tricks I find with beginning costumers and those new to Steampunk DIY,” she says. “It’s fun to turn my fancy bustle upside down and show someone that it’s actually a little girl’s Easter dress that’s flipped over and tied around my waist without a single stitch.”
For interior designers, the DIY approach is equally important. For instance, Art Donovan lists some of the fields of expertise required for his practice: “In my lighting designs, of course I need some heavy rendering, wood, and metalworking abilities. Painting and finishing is also critical. That is, knowing the properties of every type of paint, dye, and pigment imaginable. Also, the skill of how to correctly fasten parts together. But there is nothing more important in my designs than the ability to predict the sequence of assembly. That’s everything! Without the proper sequence for all the varied components, the piece simply can’t be put together.” When it comes right down to it, the work that designers do is often highly technical and firmly grounded in the nitty-gritty.
Of course, there are times when doing something right involves turning to the right people for expertise. As Bruce Rosenbaum says, “I’m not a mechanic or scientist. I employ lighting, electronic, digital, mechanical artists and engineers to design and fabricate our projects.” And, as a matter of fact, architecture is the perfect example of a craft that requires serious expertise. At the moment, we can only point to a few Steampunk buildings; entire Steampunk cities exist only in the clouds and in the worlds of our imagination. But we can confidently say that, for tomorrow’s retro-futurist architect, finding the right people to help create and construct her vision will be absolutely crucial. We’re all about thinking big, and thinking big often requires a village. Especially when the task at hand is building one.
Fashion designer Morrigana Townsend-Pehlke gets to the heart of the matter: “I am lucky in that I have some amazing friends and family who know how to put together a working pair of goggles, carve a kraken walking cane, or create a set of wings that open and close on their own, and are willing to work with me to see one of my visions come to fruition.”
Digital Grotesque (Surface Coating) by Michael Hansmeyer and Benjamin Dillenburger. Photo by Demetris Shammas and Achilleas Xydis.
Serpent Twins, created by Jon Sarriugarte and Kyrsten Mate, and their “Empire of Dirt” crew. Design team Because We Can assisted in the fabrication and provided additional support.
School for Steampunks: Mastering Hands-on Skills
Now, creativity is the foundation of great design. But good ideas are just the beginning. To get the big results you’re picturing, you may need to brush up on some hard skills, too . . . the practical techniques that enable designers to turn vision into reality. Sometimes this means starting from scratch, which can be scary—but it’s well worth the risk.
“I have always been interested in how things work with nimble fingers,” says Jema Hewitt, discussing the journey she took to master her craft. “So, from studying art and needlework at school I went on to learn skills like ceramics, silversmithing, and printmaking. . . . After the very basic techniques were learned, I asked lots of questions of other artists I admired, watched how they made things, and then tried them out myself later. Every job brought new challenges to work out, too. More research and different bits of knowledge get filed away over time.”
Kristin Costa agrees. “I am constantly learning new skills, depending on what my projects call for. I just released an origami-themed collection in which I had to teach myself a number of origami techniques that I’d never done before, including making origami pieces out of six-foot lengths of canvas.” Likewise, says Amanda Scrivener: “I sign up all the time to attend workshops by other artists to build on my skills.”
Meanwhile, like many of our contributors to the chapter on art and making, Art Donovan learned many of his skills on the job, working in the toy industry in the 1970s. “It was like a marine boot camp for artists, because you used every art medium and art tool available: markers, oils, acrylics, gouache, pastels, pencil, tech pen, you name it. We learned how to sculpt in clay and high-density foam for prototypes. We used every kind of paper-and-cardboard folding method known. But the most important skill was knowing how to create a finished product fast!”
Donovan’s comments illustrate one of those universally acknowledged truths about creative work: There’s nothing that motivates a struggling artist like a looming deadline! If you’re having trouble making progress in your artistic pursuits, sometimes a bit of external pressure can help. We recommend making a commitment to some outside party—and maybe even biting off just a bit more than you can reasonably chew.
If you’re trying to flex your fashion muscles, look for outside commissions: You can offer to outfit a friend for a special occasion, or work with a local theater company on costuming. (They’ll be grateful!) If it’s interior design you’re interested in, you could always rent a booth at a flea market or design an installation for an upcoming art show. As Donovan concludes: “In any career you plan to stay in, there are no wrong turns. Everything you do adds to your knowledge and skills.”
Crafting a Rococopunk Jacket from Found Materials by Megan Maude
Rococopunk Jacket by Megan Maude. Styled and modeled by Megan Maude. Photo by Megan Maude.
Creating a richly layered outfit can be intimidating. It’s easy to look at the amazing things other people are making and then to talk yourself out of doing anything before you even begin. How do they cram so many amazing intricacies into one garment? How can anything you come up with ever compare? Since I am lucky enough to have a boatload of talented friends, I have this problem all of the time. To combat the feelings of inadequacy, I like to find a point of inspiration to use as a center and then start collecting materials. I’m not always precisely sure where I’m headed until I get there, and I think that’s okay. Sometimes I know precisely what I need, and other times I just have to start amassing supplies until I have a number of options to play with. That’s what I did when I decided to make this Rococopunk redingote (which is just a fancy French way to say riding coat).
Rococopunk is a little different than Steampunk, because the punk comes from actual punk rock. It’s a mash-up of the rococo era and old-school punk, where the two things are seamlessly combined and conveyed simultaneously. While Rococopunk isn’t exactly a branch of Steampunk, it also wouldn’t really exist without Steampunk’s presence. It is at once mocking and complementing the movement.
The first time that my friends and I did a Rococopunk group, nobody else was doing it—anything we came up with was going to be interesting and original! However, by the next go-around we had a whole slew of new faces participating, and so I felt like I had to come up with something bigger and better than what everyone else would have. It was no longer enough to throw some vaguely rococo elements together with a punk flair and call it a day. This time, there was going to have to be some serious historical research, and it was going to have to come across in a totally new way. I was at a complete loss for where to begin until I found these fantastic floral tapestry Fluevog heels with a rococo silhouette. I knew that these shoes needed an ensemble to live up to their awesomeness!
I’m a huge history nerd, so I decided to loosely base my look on Marie Antoinette. Having a historical figure to loosely focus on gave me the opportunity to define a set of parameters to distort within. As it happens, Marie Antoinette was an avid horsewoman, much to the dismay of the court of Versailles. She rode astride like her male counterparts, and even had special riding pants made to match her redingotes, which was quite the controversy. In her day, bloomers hadn’t even been invented, so imagine the scandal of full-on trousers! Marie went another step further, though, and had herself painted on horseback, which was a fashionable way for powerful men to convey their authority and military prowess. This served to at once show her dominance and also emasculate her husband, Louis XVI, who was already weak in the eyes of the public. How much more punk rock can a historical figure get? By the end of the eighteenth century, redingotes went from being purely utilitarian to being fashion statements, much like punk leather and denim jackets did in the 1980s. Every punk needs a crazy jacket covered in studs, patches, and memories. So it was that I arrived at making a redingote to match my shoes.
1. Once I knew that I was going to make a redingote, I had to decide how to marry the historical garment with the iconic punk jacket. When you think of a punk jacket, either denim or leather comes immediately to mind, and so I settled on denim with a leather collar. Problematically, I wanted the classic denim jacket look to somehow shine through the historically based construction of the redingote. I didn’t think normal denim yardage from the fabric store was going to cut it, so when I found these heinous pink denim jackets at a surplus store, I knew I had to find a way to use them.
2. Very carefully, I went about removing the flamingos and cutting the denim jackets apart into the largest sections I could manage, but none of the sections were big enough on their own to cut the redingote pattern pieces out properly. It turned out to be a good thing because it forced me to add another layer to the final design. I pieced the sections together to make larger, more usable pieces of fabric, and where I joined them, I used a dark red contrast stitch that was the same as the topstitching that I planned for the rest of the garment. Repurposing the found jackets into makeshift yard-age allowed me to preserve the classic denim jacket details while adding more interest.
3, 4. Since the main fabric for the redingote was solid pink, I wanted to bring in more of the colors from the shoes with an interesting patterned fabric. At first, I had considered some type of plaid, but the world was not offering up anything that appealed to me. So, once again, I resorted to making my own solution. I found some lightweight denim yardage at a local fabric shop and decided to splatter-bleach it like punks so often do with their jeans. Then I overdyed the bleached fabric with teal Rit dye to make it a more desirable tone. Pro tip: To keep the dye from bleeding onto your other clothes or skin, wash the fabric with a cup of white vinegar.
5. I wanted to add some of the emblematic rococo-era ruffled trim along with decorative braid, so I made long strips, to be gathered into ruffles, of my manipulated fabric. In the late eighteenth century, clothes were made completely by hand, yet they were still covered with yards upon yards of ruffles. Finishing all of those edges with a rolled edge—like we would today—would have proved a Sisyphean task. Instead, they would simply pink the edges to keep them from fraying—they actually had special pinking irons that were used like stamps, made specifically for the purpose. A far faster modern method is to use a pinking rotary cutter to cut the strips evenly while pinking them at the same time.
6. Another great modern convenience is the ruffler foot. If your machine doesn’t have an official ruffler foot available, there are generic ones that can be found that will fit most any machine. Instead of hating yourself for having decided to gather endless yards of ruffles, you can get it done in a snap.
7, 8. I didn’t want to just tack on modern punk patches and pins, so instead I created patches based on history. My favorite patch is one that exceptionally few people understand, which, I think, makes it killer. It’s a picture of Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, who was Marie Antoinette’s childhood music teacher. In later life, she became his patron, even though it wasn’t a very popular move on her part. In stencil-style letters over the image, the patch says, “Gluck you!” which is an obvious play on a slightly more offensive phrase. I find this endlessly amusing, even if not everyone will get it.
The Gluck patch was surprisingly easy to make. There are a whole host of ready-to-print fabrics on the market these days, including cotton, cotton twill, silk, and silk organza. When printed with an ink-jet printer and then heat-set, many of them become washable, and when the paper stabilizer backing is removed, they feel just like any other fabric. I used the printable silk to make the Gluck patch because I felt like Rococopunk should be kind of luxe.
That luxury, when mixed with the rougher aesthetic of punk, is ultimately what makes Rococopunk so effective. It creates a dichotomy within itself that provides extremely interesting, playful visuals. It was that visual lushness that drew artists such as Adam Ant to the look back in the 1980s, and it has remained relevant even today, albeit in a different way. Finding inspiration in Rococopunk is, at a glance, so easy, but when you get into the nuts and bolts, it can be overwhelming. It makes all the difference in the world to find that one point of inspiration and let it take you where it will!
Megan Maude is an independent designer and seamstress whose influential works in the fields of Gothic Lolita and Steampunk have been featured in many books and magazines dedicated to those aesthetics, including the Gothic & Lolita Bible, Gothic Beauty Magazine, Anatomy of Steampunk, and more. She is perhaps most well known for creating the Nerfpunk and Rococopunk styles.
From Pattern to Product: The Working Process
So you’re probably wondering: After you’ve found your inspiration and locked down some solid skills, what happens next? For the working designer, what does the actual day-to-day process of creation look like? Here are some possibilities.
Fashion
Jessica Rowell typically starts by taking inventory in the studio; if she doesn’t have on hand what she needs to begin a project, she goes shopping at fabric and thrift shops. “Sometimes I have a specific vision and other times my direction will develop organically while pairing textiles and notions together on the spot.” This process is quite organic and intuitive. When inspiration strikes, she likes to get to work immediately; however, while some pieces can be completed within a couple of days, others may take months.
Paige Gardner Smith has a similar process, equally informed by the tactile inspiration of reclaimed objects. She says, “Typically, I will collect interesting fabric remnants, clothing, knickknacks, broken toys, et cetera, with no real intent—just picked because they’re an odd or a cool-looking thing. I sort them into bins that I walk past every day in my basement. Each daily walk-by sparks thoughts and ideas about how parts can be used for a costume or prop. This process is constant and shifting, and encourages refinement of costuming projects and ideas long before the first effort is made to build it.”
However, Jema Hewitt takes a more conceptual approach. “For a big showpiece like a museum costume, it usually begins with a concept such as ‘gin bustle dress’ and a sketch on the back of an envelope, or a few lines of memo text, which then sit in the back of my brain for a while. Slowly, it will grow into a more cohesive idea, and that can take days or months while I work on other things. Next, I do a more technical-style drawing, pulling in any research I’ve done and working out what materials I’m going to need. Often, the design will change as I get distracted by a more interesting object or material as I gather bits together.”
“I’ll usually sketch ideas for a few months, without making what I’m drawing, until I’m certain it is worth it,” agrees Kristin Costa as she describes her process leading up to a show. “Then I’ll start to make smaller pieces and start sourcing materials, and the collection starts coagulating into something more cohesive. . . . In the final few weeks, I’ll make the majority of the samples, aided by coffee and three hours of sleep a night. Sometimes I have people who help me, but often times it is too fast-paced for me to want to explain the weird processes to anyone, and it is quicker for me to do it myself. The night before the show, I usually make the finale dress, because I have a bad habit of saving my favorite design for the last minute. Then the show happens. . . . Then I usually get sick for a week or two, since I’d been forgetting to eat and sleep in the three weeks up until the show. After that storm passes, I’m able to see what people are responding to the most, and edit the pieces that I will produce in bulk for my own personal shop, and facilitate the production of pieces that I have gotten orders for. If the orders are large, I may even call in a few sewing assistants, or outsource simpler designs.”
We’ve been there. A good reminder for aspiring and experienced artists and artisans everywhere: It’s easy to neglect ourselves when we’re focused on our creative work, but taking care of yourself is an important part of the creative process, too. Sleep, food, and exercise are all very conducive to the creator’s long-term health!
Styled by Mark Cordory. Modeled by Jasmine Eccles. Photo by Deborah Selwood/Gecko Studios Photography Limited.
Interior Design
Like Jessica Rowell, lighting designer Tanya Clarke lets her eyes and hands guide her in the initial stages of a project, counting on intuition to draw her to the right materials. “Once I decide on what type of piece I want to build, I will wander around a scrap-metal yard and pull pieces that may work for, let’s say, a base. For me this is often the most important component, as it must be able to have wires pass through it, a space for an electrical transformer, and the ability to drill or fit piping into it. The rest is like Legos: what fits with what. The shape begins to take form—sometimes similar to what I had in mind, often not at all. The less I think about it, the better. Next, I do the electrical work, and the hand-sculpted solid-glass drops are added in the final stage. I work in silence because that’s the way I like it.”
For Art Donovan, the work begins with a drawing. “I design two-dimensionally. Length and width only! My initial thumbnail sketches and concepts are flat drawings, rarely considering the depth or 3-D quality of the piece. With this approach I’m looking exclusively for a dramatic silhouette—that rhythmic gesture. That proportional and complementary geometry. Volume versus detail. The process is entirely emotional in the very early sketch stages. Then I go directly to raw wood and metal, using enlargements of my original thumbnail sketches. After that, the three-dimensional aspects of a piece present themselves on their own.”
As a client-focused consultant with a business to run, Bruce Rosenbaum usually begins with a client sit-down. “I interview my clients to understand their personal or organizational history, what makes them unique now, and what type of functionality they are looking for in an art installation. Once we know what we would like to make, we find the personal or period objects that will act as physical reminders of what was and is important to them. We then find the artists, artisans, craftspeople, and technologists to make it come together. After approved drawings, we start to fabricate, using period objects, wood, metal, cloth, electronics, technology—whatever it takes to create incredible Steampunk art and design.”
Just remember, however you begin, you may wind up somewhere else! Unconventional solutions are Rosenbaum’s secret strategy. For surprisingly sticky problems, he suggests “pivoting.” “There is always another way in,” he says. “I gather up my mental forces and rethink (reimagine) how to get to the goal—in another way, maybe at another time and place. Resilience and perseverance are the keys to success for anything in life.”
Seven Pieces of Advice for New Designers
1. “I try to NOT get too attached to what the outcome of my pieces will look like. A lot of my work is made with reclaimed pieces, and each piece has its quirk. If I can find a way to use those quirks to my benefit, as opposed to viewing it as an obstacle, then we’re both better off.”
—Tanya Clarke
2. “Choose one TECHNIQUE or craft to learn and perfect at a time. If you’ve never sewn before, it might seem terribly boring to make a waistcoat rather than that huge flouncy crinoline ball gown you’ve always wanted, but couture sewing skills take time to acquire. Just as athletes train their bodies, artists train their hands and eye equally as hard.”
—Jema Hewitt
3. “I would say to stay within your comfort ZONE of techniques and aesthetics for a while. There’s no need to rush into your ‘masterpiece’ when you haven’t learned to walk yet. Copy other artists’ work as much as possible to learn the rationale behind their form and the materials. The desire (along with the ability) to create more complex things will evolve naturally.”
—Art Donovan
4. “Because I’m using very cheap or free materials, costume-build mishaps are not usually deal breakers. I consider mishaps as beta testing—smile! Curiously, I’ve found that my errors with paint, glue, and holes in the wrong place can sometimes lead to a better result in the end. Mistakes force the builder to think creatively, to discover unconventional solutions. I’ve also learned through experience which crafting materials make excellent bandages—for the more injurious mishaps that sometimes occur. My costume projects are not complete until they are christened with blood or tears, or both.”
—Paige Gardner Smith
5. “The greatest advice I can give is to not abandon your passions, no matter what, and never COMPROMISE your integrity and authenticity.”
—Jessica Rowell
6. “Start out small. Find a PERIOD OBJECT you love. Think not only what it was, but what it could be with some technological improvements and ‘opposite thinking.’”
—Bruce Rosenbaum
7. “Open yourself up to the possibility that how it’s ‘usually’ done . . . is not how you’re going to achieve your dreams. If you love what you’re doing . . . and you’re willing to pour that love into your creation, then let it happen however it happens, even if it’s not the ‘norm.’”
—Morrigana Townsend-Pehlke
RetroFuture House Exterior/Space
Style: Blend of high-style Queen Anne Victorian and Craftsman arts-and-craft design
Size: Two floors, approximately 3,000–4,000 square feet
Concept
The 1876 U.S. Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia was our country’s first official world’s fair and showed off the current inventions and technology of the period, along with how our homes and lives had changed in the previous one hundred years. The exposition was designed to show the world the United States’ industrial strength, ingenuity, and innovative prowess.
At the exposition, a reconstruction of an early 1800s “colonial kitchen,” along with a spinning wheel and costumed presenters, marked how far the United States had come, growing from an agriculture-based society to a “modern” industrial civilization. Now, looking back, it’s quite amusing to see how wrong the organizers of the exposition were in predicting the future, and how technology can take unexpected turns to transform our lives.
In the truest sense of Steampunk’s alternate history tradition, we ask the “What if?” What if the organizers of the 1876 Centennial Exposition who created the “Future House” got their predictions one hundred percent right? What would their future have looked like within the Victorian/Industrial Age aesthetic that was popular during the period? To answer that, we’ve dreamed up Steamarama: The RetroFuture Home of Yesterday and Tomorrow, which is a name play off the 1939 New York World’s Fair exhibit, Futurama: The World of Tomorrow. This would be a fully immersive, interactive Steampunk exposition that shows what rooms in a Steampunk house would have looked like if the creators of the 1876 Centennial Exposition had predicted accurately what technologies and modern conveniences would have been integrated into our homes, fashion, and design—but within the Victorian and Industrial aesthetic of the period.
The majority of the objects would be authentic to the Victorian/Industrial period in one way or another and transformed by infusing modern technology functionality into the pieces.
RetroFuture House Interior: Technology, Rooms, and Objects
Possible Technologies Employed
Infrared (IR) multi-touch frames
Infrared camera. Used with projectors to create interactive surfaces that are non-LCD.
Rear-projection acrylic/film. Multiple products in this area are employed to create nonstandard interactive surfaces (irregular shapes, floating frames, etc.).
Semitransparent mirrored film (Mylar, Gila Privacy Film) for LCD mirrors. To employ hidden interactive control (capacitive systems, IR systems, vision systems).
IR pen. Modern pens with a classic look retrofitted to use IR LEDs as writing nubs.
Metal bar capacitance. Through the use of inlaid metal electrodes, capacitive controls can be added to wooden objects (inlays have a classic look while providing a modern function, and can be used for any switch type of behavior).
Leap motion. Used for hands-free interactions (motion and accurate hand-position tracking at a distance, and can be inlaid into furniture flush-mounted).
Kinect. Full-body motion capture that can be used to track motion between rooms and supply range-finding data.
LCD panels. For video content that can be hidden.
Pico projectors. Easy to hide, easier to fabricate with, and affordable laser projection for zero-focus installation.
Ultra/short-throw projectors. Super-short throw distance (distance from projector to projection target) for DLP or LCD for vivid picture quality.
Augmented reality/cast augmented reality. Allows for per-viewer stereoscopy. Can be used with any surface or object affixed with a retro-reflector. Can also be used to create visual overlays, menu systems, etc., and RetroFuture stereoscope.
Foyer
Wedding time-capsule clock
Home personalized total sound systems (Music follows you from room to room!)
Fully armed Steampunk alarm system with aperture/camera door peephole
Internet access for guests and family
Dining and Entertaining Room
Dining table. Glass top with an Indian Motorcycle base. Tabletop is a “smart table” that informs guests of the menu and the times for finished preparation and serving of dinner items.
Serving table and bar with Steampunk beer-brewing system
Family, Living Room, and Home Theater
Central control station for all home theater components
Period dentist chair and dental equipment
Virtual reality game system
Kitchen
Constant sound and speaker system
iPad/house-control pod for charging
Wall-mounted, gear-shaped digital seasoning dispenser (Turn and input serving amount requested.)
Touch-screen countertop for island, used for the Internet, media, etc.
Digital touch-screen dials for oven and stovetop burners
Adjustable mood lighting
Digital side chef system (Input recipe and follow directions in real time.)
C-GPS (Culinary Gastro-Preparation System)
Window and digi-screen refrigerator and freezer system
Touch-system sink system and garbage disposal
Specially etched cityscape artwork over burner system (Steam simulates real Steampunk city!)
Office
Modified organ as computer workstation
Tri-screen tabletop
Submarine-themed lighting on ceiling and wall
Dock for home device
Plastic digital display screen, for calendar and time sheet/clock for work schedules
Snapshot camera turned into Skype camera for meetings
Sub-hatch for soundproofing room
Scanner/printer built into office desk
Cabinet of curiosities and records with panel tech glass that shows locations of documents
Meeting table with multiple chairs, modified tabletop touch screen for easy media demonstrations, and paperless note taking and scheduling
Floor rug with movable gears, covered by pane glass
Wall-mounted flat screen, once more for visuals and television viewing
Master Bedroom
Pullman sleeping car bed
Accent wall, papered with Morgan Envelope factory postcards
Rotating projection screen for viewing content from different angles within the room
Bedside alarm clock and device changer
Bruce Rosenbaum is a nationally acknowledged expert on Steampunk art and design. Rosenbaum’s Steampunk art and design projects and that of his company, ModVic, have appeared in major media throughout the country, including the Boston Globe, the Wall Street Journal, and Time magazine, as well as on TV shows on Discovery, HGTV, MTV, TLC, and Boston’s WCVB. He has been called the “Evangelist of Steampunk” by Wired magazine and travels the nation educating people on creative problem-solving techniques such as Janusian Thinking (combination and synthesis of opposites) and designing Steampunk objects, rooms, offices, hotels, clubs, and restaurants for his clients.
All images copyrighted by ModVic, LLC
Exterior and interior layout and floor plans by MLA Consultants
Room/object drawings by Brett Kelley
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FANTASTIC VICTORIANA: ALTERNATIVE HISTORY EDITION.
READE HOUSE. The story of the Reade House is well known by now. Located in San Jose, California, the Reade House was the home of wealthy steam-robots manufacturer Frank Reade, his wife Mary, and their son Frank, Jr. The sudden death in 1883 of Frank and Frank Jr. plunged Mary Reade into a profound depression which was only dispelled by the words of a spirit medium, that “If our house had not been finished, I would still be with you. I urge you now to build a home, but never let it be finished—the sound of the hammers must never stop—for then you will live.” In 1884 Mary started work on a house that would never stop being built—it would build itself. The house incorporated all of the most current technology of the Reade steam-robots and was programmed to never stop adding to itself. And it continues to do so today, spreading across suburban San Jose.
The Reade House is an impressive edifice. But apart from the famous van der Rohe/Le Corbusier exchange of the late 1930s there has been little written about the Reade House as art, as an aesthetic construct.
Walking around the house, one is first struck by the contrast between the exterior of the house—detailed, apparently finished, and serene—and its turbulent surroundings. The house is a poor fit for the neighborhood. The house is bracketed by barricades, stone walls which mark the line of demarcation beyond which the house will (supposedly) not be allowed to expand. Between the house and the federal barricades are the ruin of Highway 280 and the parking lots and tract houses which the Reade House’s underground drill bits are consuming. On the other side of the federal barricades, Reade House is surrounded by sinkholes and a suburban San Jose neighborhood of mid-century houses long since abandoned. The population of San Jose has no confidence in the barricades and does not live in the neighborhood. Supposedly the Reade House’s growth is slowing, and the owners speak of a downward rather than outward expansion of the Reade House. But no one wants to live too near the house.
Yet the house and neighborhood are, perhaps, not so ill-fitted as all that. The Reade House does not exist in isolation, despite the presence of the barricades. The house’s burrowing machinery are notorious for causing localized “quakes” across San Jose, but supposedly the machinery avoids disrupting those houses which were built during the “New Gothic Revival” of the 1980s. In the larger context of the city the Reade House is not ridiculous, but a precursor of what is to come: the Reade House is the neighborhood’s editor, transforming its surroundings.
In bright light, the exterior is that of an irregularly spaced late-Victorian home, sprawling in every direction: redwood, stained glass, the occasional Gothic Revival wing or Neoclassical segment. In bright light, it seems obvious that, on the “skin building” verses “muscle building” scale, the Reade House is as much a skin building as a muscle building.
But such a clear viewing is rare. More often the house is encased in smudgy coal smoke emitting from one of the many antennae-like chimneys, just as there is a constant smell of grease and soot about the Reade House and an endless low clanking, whirring, and grinding of machinery. At such times most of the house is obscured, and what is visible are the interior lights from the house’s mechanisms—the propulsion for the sliding rooms, the elevator shafts, the corkscrewing spiral staircases—which obscure the wood veneer. In the dark, the Reade House’s skin disappears, leaving only its muscles, sinews, and bones to be seen.
Those notorious shifting rooms have long defied architectural critics. As Le Corbusier said, “A house is a machine for living in, but it should not be a machine. The masterly, correct play of masses brought together in light has little to do with ambiguous, randomly rotating rooms in the shapes of flattened and off-kilter cubes, cones, spheres, cylinders and pyramids.” One cannot discuss how well the architectural plan works with the building when the building is altered on a continual basis.
Also, in the dark it is possible to believe that more than just interior rooms are being constructed and shifted; that the outline of the house itself changes according to some internal master plan; that overnight towers sink, wings are dismantled, and gables flattened and used as floors; that the jutting out of the gables, windows, chimneys, and portes cochere are deliberately designed to obscure views and foul sightlines; and that the rumors are true, of entire floors filled with punch cards, following Mary Reade’s supposed indoctrination in the ways of the “New Aeon of Dimensional Thought” of Charles Hinton and Aleister Crowley.
In fact, a look at pictures of the house over the years does hint at an internal harmony, and the order of the rooms being assembled speaks to some variation of the Fibonacci Sequence.
The architectural scheme of the building is supposed to bring daylight in, but only to the outer layer of rooms. The interior rooms are designed for dim light, via interior windows and crooked skylights, or bright lights, via the outsized fireplaces or the stained glass floors or ceilings, or even more unusual lighting, as with the imitation Amber Room. The rooms themselves are erratic in design: claustrophobic, often impressionistic, with a certain detectible loathing for right angles and straight lines.
In fact, the building begs the classic architecture school question: Who is it being built for? Its absence of lavatories; its emphasis on hallways which curve relentlessly and always seem to lead out rather than in; its stairways which lead nowhere; its uneven levels—the building does not evoke emotions so much as puzzlement. Was this Mary Reade’s intention? The Reade House is architecture of aggression, not passivity, and ambition, not resignation—but whose aggression, and whose ambition?
JESS NEVINS
