Palestinian dress preserves the memory of a vanished world

The heritage of Palestine has pulled through many adversities over the past century. The only real T survivors are the most portable wares. If all you have is the clothes on your back, that is the best way for a culture to travel. The diaspora would have very little left if it were not for textiles, and of these the prize items are the distinctive thobe dresses with tatreez embroidery. The level of interest in these items has not kept up with global attention on the Middle East. The peak of curiosity seems to have been many years ago. When Shelagh Weir, Jehan Rajab and Widad Kawar were prominent names among textile authorities in the 1980s, there were also some exceptional exhibitions. One of the most memorable was opened in 1989 at this writer's favourite museum: the Museum of Mankind. Since then, like Palestine itself, the old institution has been subsumed into a larger entity, in this case becoming just another part of the British Museum monolith.

There are few observers around today from the pre-1948 cra of Palestine. Fifty years after that tumultuous date, there were still not many outsiders to witness the slow extinction of a culture. It is mostly soldiers and aid workers who have seen the continuing descent. The British couple Ian and Jenifer Rutherford were unusual in being on the ground during a brief period of hope before the 21st century crushed that completely. A banker and what was then known as a 'trailing spouse' were at large more than thirty years ago, fully immersed in East Jerusalem.

Other parts of Palestine were regular features of Ian's work and routine. Even at that time, the couple hardly ever saw traditional costumes, which had already been highly collectable for decades. Despite this, the spirit of Palestinian culture was still sufficiently alive to inspire them to take an interest.

Many collectors in whatever field are able to follow their passion without any direct contact with the creators of their collectables. It was different for this husband and wife team. Theirs was a shared enthusiasm that lasted for decades. Their collection is now with the Islamic Arts Muscum Malaysia and forms the core of its latest exhibition, "Tatreez: Reclaiming Palestine through Embroidery' (until 25 April 2027).

When the Rutherfords went to Palestine they had no intention of becoming collectors. Their initial curiosity turned into what the legendary textile scholar John Gillow told them was 'probably the best collection in Britain in private hands'. The couple have always been doubtful about the claim, but 'best in Britain' was at least a good start, as that is where so much Palestinian heritage ended up. Almost thirty years of British Mandate control resulted in numerous Brits bringing back what they could from Palestine. This wasn't loot; it was simple admiration for a craft that touched the aesthetic sensibilities of policemen and other officials of His Britannic Majesty.

The Rutherfords' arrival was long after the years 1920-48. lan's association with the Arab Middle East began in the 1960s, in London. The name of the bank takes us back to another age entirely. What started as the Ottoman Bank when he joined it soon became Grindlays. He spent thirty-five years with the institution, during which time it was taken over three times.

Of the Oslo Accords of 1993 and 1995, Ian says, 'It will seem almost inconceivable now, but that period after Oslo was one of optimism and, dare I say it, goodwill.' A two-state solution was supposed to be on the way, and the bank was keen to reopen legacy branches in the region. Getting the branch in East Jerusalem up and running became lan's late-career responsibility. It was a complicated process, not least because a full Israeli banking licence was needed. It would become the first foreign bank in Israel at the time.

At this point there was not even a trace of a tatreez collection in the Rutherfords' lives. It was only when Jenifer joined her husband in East

Jerusalem that the collecting passion was ignited. 'For the first time in her life,' says Ian, in our new environment, she had time on her hands and was surrounded by wonderful embroidery. She is also a textile person, although she had worked too hard to leave very much time for textiles. Jenifer had been taught to sew and to embroider by her grandmother. Suddenly, she discovered the splendour and diversity of Palestinian embroidery and costume.'

Jenifer's discovery opened a whole new opportunity for pleasure and the acquisition of knowledge. A first step on the path saw her creating a sampler of Palestinian motifs and designs. Through a banking colleague, the Rutherfords were introduced to an established collector: 'We spent the most wonderful evening with him, leaving at 2 am. He brought out dress after dress. Jenifer turned them inside out, tried them on, and examined the embroidery with obvious and intelligent enjoyment. A few weeks later, under the tutelage of our new friend, we started our own little collection.'

According to the Rutherfords, 'collecting is a disease'. The habit was formed in Palestine and continued when they returned to Britain. 'We kept adding,' Ian says, 'even when living far from their place of manufacture, although it was the place and the people as much as the products that had inspired us initially.'

They still attend textile and tribal fairs in London and nearby. Despite their having passed on their hoard to a new owner, recovery from the collecting disease is a slow process. Having seen them in action at one such event, it's obvious to me that the eye of the enthusiast is not easily distracted. It's a community rather than a competitive activity. There is very little competition as tatreez and the thobes to which the embroidery was traditionally applied are rarely found at markets, or auctions or anywhere very much. They have moved from the endangered list to near extinction. The coup de grace has been delivered to a culture that was already on its knees.

There has, however, been some interest shown by muscums lately. In addition to the Islamic Art Muscum Malaysia's blockbuster, the Victoria and Albert Museum put on a significant show titled Thread Memory: Embroidery from Palestine', which ended in April. Visitors needed to be in reach of Dundee, though. Those who preferred South Kensington could see a much smaller display until May 2026.

As for keeping the tradition alive, Lebanon is increasingly on the military frontline. There might be fears for the organisation that has done the most to keep tatreez going. It's located in Beirut, where Ian attended the legendary MECAS Arabic language teaching facility in 1969, the same year that the Inaash Association was founded. Inaash has been the pioneer of preserving and promoting Palestinian embroidery ever since.

A large number of female refugees in camps across Lebanon have been given training, income opportunities and social support through the time-honoured labour of tatreez. It is a vital means of support for these women. By sustaining traditional techniques, Inaash enables the women to provide some financial support for their families while contributing to social cohesion and cultural identity. Economic opportunities are not improving, but at least there is a little continuity. It is some compensation for the losses that these people have endured over almost eight decades.

The renowned Palestinian designer and textile scholar Omar Joseph Nasser-Khoury has been the cataloguer and principal writer for the Rutherford collection and other works in the new tatreez exhibition. The output of Inaash's craftswomen was a formative inspiration for that rare thing: a male expert in a branch of the arts usually dominated by women.

Nasser-Khoury's encounters with tatreez at its most accomplished had been scarce until he saw a shawl from Inaash: 'Until that point I had never really cared for embroidery, or any textile traditions from Palestine,' he admits. 'Inaash's work was different-it conveyed a foundational truth behind the craft, the core power that made this practice so central to the culture and identity of Palestine.'

One aspect that is not always apparent in the stylish photography that tends to represent tatreez is the condition of the subject matter. Thobes were for more than occasional, ceremonial use. These were garments often worn in the field, literally. Although large numbers were produced in the 19th and first half of the 20th century, there are relatively few survivors, and even fewer in pristine condition. Stains and other relics of the hurly-burly of hard lives are plain to see, especially on the lightercoloured costumes.

By the time the Rutherfords arrived in Palestine, local attire had moved on. 'It was already apparent to me and the few other foreigners living there in the 1990s that the old garments were hardly ever worn,' lan tells me. 'There was no everyday use of the sort of quality dresses that have become so collectable. The women who sold vegetables on the street would sometimes wear traditional headgear, without coins on them, and there was some embroidery visible, mainly using variegated thread and machine embroidery. I'm relying on my memory for this as we took few photos in such situations. Local etiquette was against such intrusions.'

'Before Jeni joined me in Jerusalem, my contact with traditional textiles was very limited. I was shown some examples to hang on the wall as decoration for the branch.' When the Rutherfords say 'branch', the image formed in the mind should be high street rather than Wall Street. The bank in question was very much operating at street level, meaning the husband and wife were not living in the well-insulated world of the investment banker.

They like to emphasise how rural Palestine was outside the main cities. A brief period of economic expansion had hardly affected a moderately impoverished agricultural society. These circumstances made the tatreez they encountered a visual blessing. As they put it: 'Palestinian dresses are never plain.' The colour that was absent from daily life was highly visible in the traditional clothing, either in the weave or in the embroidery.

Almost all of the costumes in the former Rutherford collection are between seventy and 120 years old. A few pieces, mainly shawls, are 19th century. The dominant thread colour is red. The shade of red varies. In Ramallah it is a bright red; in Hebron it is a brick red; while in Ashdod it is pink. Until the 1920S the threads used were locally dyed floss silk. From the mid-1920s onwards, imported DMC thread was dominant. Sewing machines were beginning to be imported during this period, along with the distribution of European thread-exporters' catalogues, filled with new designs.

During the couple's time in Palestine, there was a resurgence of interest in the old attire. The new wearers were, unexpectedly, younger women. At certain events, the female elite would take pride in wearing their mothers' and grandmothers' dresses. This renewed interest might have been a way of clinging on to nationhood, or so it seemed to the Rutherfords. Every village and town had its own style. Where you came from was more important than religion. The 'where' had changed from districts and sub-districts to a more comprehensive concept of Palestine. The couple sensed at the time that there was no other obvious way of expressing this nationalism.

Collectors were also part of the rising national consciousness. "This was very much their hour, a time when many of the larger collections were being formed,' they recall. Collecting brings people together. 'We owned just about every book ever written on the subject and met the allknowing Shelagh Weir at the British Museum. She won't remember. We went to listen to a talk she gave. Her book has been our bible.'

The Rutherfords returned to the United Kingdom in 2001. 'We loved our time in Palestine and its people,' says Ian. "The region now seems way beyond reconciliation. We are glad to have experienced those few years of optimism and to have created a collection that people can now enjoy at the Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia.' Their collection was never insured or displayed, until this year. It now lives on at the heart of the exhibition.