Euphonious Raincoats v4. waxy

design residency, lottozero, apr - may 2024

v4. waxy, sonic diary

This waxy version of the raincoat accompanies me on the twenty minute walk to the sauna. The action of zipping it up was more cumbersome than the others. The fabric curves on either side of the zip. The force I apply to the zip pull is not enough to straighten the fabric so a struggle ensues. The rain batters against me along the fjord. The raindrops dance on the surface of the coat. Lively. On tippy toes. A corps de ballet. It reminds me of rain on a glass window. You find pleasure in the sonic and visual rhythm of the pitter patter. Yet, you are comforted that there is a thickness; a barrier that separates you and the wetness. Not that the raincoat is transparent but there is a translucency to this waxy version. The light gets in. It is the most water repellent of all the coats over an extended period of time, a hard armour. Yet, its translucency lulls me into a feeling of lightness.

I hang up the raincoat on a hook in the sauna changing room. The beads of water trickle downwards. In the sauna for an hour I expel my own beads of sweat. Whilst I have softened the raincoat has stiffened. As I re-enter the changing room, the raincoat greets me like a familiar friend. It has retained the shape of my body. It has assumed a character. But one that has disappointedly undergone rigor mortis. I’m not looking forward to putting it on. Yet, I’m pleasantly surprised. Inside it is still dry. It crafts a waxy shell around my body. But it does not interfere with my body. Like a light metal armour. Tucked up inside this waxy stiffness my body moves independently.   

I venture outside with a friend I met in the sauna. The storm has grown in ferocity. I am empowered to brave the elements, placing my full trust in the inferred protection of the shell that sits away from my other layers of clothing. My cashmere sweater is warm against my skin. The harshness outside intensifies the cosiness inside. It's like sitting beside a warm fire as the rain pelts your roof. The hood pleasantly dampens the howling wind; a plus. And it dampens my friend’s voice; a negative. I can no longer hear her regale me about her day. I cautiously pull back the hood a little to expose my ears. The hood doesn’t collapse like the others. It stays in place as if I’ve moulded it there. It embraces the back of my head, like I am carrying my nephew on my shoulders.

project background

In my PhD research the jarring sonic experience of plastic raincoats was frequently presented as a contributor to sensory distress by my autistic research participants: the squeak of the sweaty plastic, arms swinging side by side, the tap tap tap of rain bouncing off the hood, drowning out the surrounding soundscape of nature and all its nourishing sensory inputs.

During my one month design residency at Lottozero textile laboratories, supported by Culture Moves Europe, I explored alternatives to the sonic dissonance of petroleum based fibers used in rainwear. The goal of this design experiment was to craft sonic experiences that are more in harmony with nature as the body moves through the wet landscape, e.g. the sound of rustling leaves overhead, the soft crunch of damp ground underfoot. I developed several wax raincoats that each composed a different symphony as the wearer moves and the rain descends. 

Back in Norway, through the generous support of Trondheim kommune kunst og kultur, I worked with sound engineer Mona Hynne, from Øra Studio, to capture the composition of each iteration. Each recording follows a similar script: dressing in the coat as the rain begins to fall, the clash of the moving body and rain colliding, the dampening (materially and sonically) over extended use, and finally how the hood sharpens the rhythm of the rain and dims the outside world.