Euphonious Raincoats v1. chalky

design residency, lottozero, apr - may 2024

v1. chalky, sonic diary

Unwrapping the fabric from its brown paper packaging reminded me of unfolding and slicing into a block of butter. There was a greasiness to the cotton fabric. Not a cheap fish and chip paper greasiness, but a luxurious creaminess. This buttery substance nourishes the cotton; it revives it like moisturising one’s body after emerging shrivelled from a bath. As I cut and sew the raincoat there is a fluidity to the fabric’s drape. I leave the finished raincoat hanging over the back of a chair for the weekend. It adopts a relaxed slouching posture. 

By Monday morning the posture has stiffened, the butteriness has dried a little in the warm Italian air. Later in the day there are thunderstorms. I am grateful for my new companion to drape over me as I cycle through the heavy rain. The long vent and overlap of fabric at the back of the coat is perfect. It splays over my back in response to my bent over cycling stance. It slides with my body as I twist to check for traffic. The vent allows the warm air to circulate. Despite the speed of my pedalling, I am dry inside: no sweat, no rain. 

I dismount and stand still for a few minutes, listening to the rain on the hood. It is pleasant; softer than I am accustomed to with my plastic raincoat.

The mezzo piano melody on my head is in sync with the rain dancing on my sleeve.

The visual dance is like adding water to a buttery pan; the water rolls towards the oil, merging elegantly momentarily before expelling each other.

White lines have begun to form where my sleeve had creased during my handlebar grip, like chalk etches on a blackboard mapping my body’s movements. 

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.