The Atmospherics of Creativity: Affective and spatial materiality in a designer’s studio

Exploring affective intensities

How can these conditions that shape – but do not determine – creative life be researched? Different articulations of contingencies remain difficult to put into words (Stewart, 2007). I draw inspiration from Stewart (2007, 2010) in attending the ‘object’ of analysis by writing out its inhabited elements in a space [in my case: the studio] over time [the three months covering the design of a new collection]. ² Michels and Steyaert’s discussion of empirical research on affect also proved invaluable help for gathering material (2017). Mobilizing the concept of ‘affective atmosphere’, they advise building a research account that is both well connected to the empirical material and sensitive to affective experiences during the research process. Access to ‘new possibilities of feeling’, they explain, can happen when seeing the constellation of material and immaterial elements at play. Michels and Steyaert advocate tracing the process through which affect emerges by ‘identifying affective episodes that form in a spontaneous encounter with a varied palette of sensations and feelings’ (2017, p. 80).

The ethnographic research process allowed me to immersively inhabit the affective qualities of encounters (Bell & Vachhani, 2020), going along and ‘feeling with’ things (Stewart, 2007). Materiality and its affective experience should be studied as interrelated phenomena ‘feeding on each other’ (Bille et al., 2014, p. 36), rather than as distinct phenomena. I tried to focus on such atmospheric attunements, to resonate or tweak the force of the ‘material-sensory something’s forming up’ (Stewart, 2011, p. 452). I was attentive to how senses are mobilized through human and non-human interactions and to how moods and feelings are revealed and considered (Reckwitz, 2016; Sumartojo, Pink, Lupton, & Heyes LaBond, 2016).

Building a relationship

The design of a new garment can be understood in terms of the registering of atmospheres in moving, sensing bodies. Actively participating in the studio’s daily activities helped me to build good relations with the two designers. Producing knowledge inevitably hinges on commitment and affect at some point (Anderson & Ash, 2015; McCoy, 2012). I soon realized that the relationship-building process was the raw material for the ethnography. Becoming aware of mood is an experience of attunement (Jørgensen & Holt, 2019; Michels, 2015; Stewart, 2011). I became close to the people I worked with, and only through this relationship did I start to properly understand the issues at stake and to identify and share those ‘affective episodes’ that Michels and Steyaert describe (2017).

Participant observation in research on atmospheres warrants careful attention to the researcher’s own affective-embodied experience as a way of learning about the experiential worlds (Michels, 2015), where all kinds of sensory impressions are registered and worked with (Beyes & Holt, 2020). This allowed me to apprehend affective-embodied sensations while concentrating on moments of tool use accompanied by expressions of togetherness, agitation, frustration, and so on. The diary proved invaluable for keeping a minimum distance from the field, serving as a tool to keep that ‘subtle balance between detachment and participation’ (Hughes, 1970, p. 420). It helped me become sensitive to the causal powers of (atmospheric) phenomena that exert a force but are often ‘vague and diffuse, ephemeral and indeterminate’ (Anderson & Ash, 2015, p. 37). ³

It all starts with fabric

Elle, like Ada, associates a fabric (e.g. silk) with a given accomplished form (‘a shirt like this, with a neck like that’), discursively representing how sensitive knowledge and matter are entangled within the design process. Fabric has such an evocative power that its arrangement is integrally embedded in the process. The lightness of jersey, a two-way stretch knit, offers a relaxed attitude. The material is in itself the condition for the idea, carrying an impersonal principle that guides the idea’s evolution. The cut-and-sewn technique allows for a rolled edge, producing rolls of material. From here, volumes are shaped, and forms are modelled on both mannequins and live bodies. Not all available components share equal capacity to resonate with the designers’ bodies. Fabrics matter because of their own qualities, forces and movements, and not because of how designers represent them.

The relationship with the fabric can only be described through sensory perceptions: sniffing, touching and looking are the appropriate verbs to convey this physical, embodied relationship. How many times did I hear them talk about the fabric, with Ada calling Elle or Elle calling Ada to say, ‘You need to come see this. Just look how this cotton is simply amazing to sew!’ Fabrics mediate the affective qualities of space, i.e. atmospheric qualities. I constantly witnessed the dynamic interplay unfolding between materials and embodied knowledge. The two designers are concerned with allowing the fabric some autonomy rather than giving it certain qualities formed or coloured in such and such a fashion. Elle and Ada do not move towards or away from a certain kind of fabric entirely out of instrumental concern – they are simply conscious of the fabric being something that ought to be treated in a certain way. What defines designing in the studio is not the skilled use of tools but the heedful regard for the often-surprising experience of being among the fabrics. For instance, the designers always get excited when fabrics arrive at the studio, shipped from Italy. They frequently take a fabric outside into the sunlight to properly appreciate its true colour, spending ages discussing and manipulating it. In those moments, common meanings circulate within the felt atmosphere. And sometimes, also, the fabric resists and refuses subjectification: ⁵

Elle is not quite satisfied with the colour of the fabric they received. She decides to dye it a darker colour. So, first, she designs the dresses. Indeed, it is easier to dye the made-up clothes than the whole roll of fabric (. . .). Once she has designed the dresses, she puts them in the washing machine where the dyeing is done. After a few hours, she opens the washing machine and gets the dresses out, which are now black – well, I see them as black, but Elle voices concern: she says the colour errs towards greenish. The fabric did not fully ‘appreciate’ the dye. Elle tells me she is disappointed by the results, but will try again, in a different way.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 3.

Fabrics somehow ‘behave’ in one way or another. Here, the experience features neither control nor full prediction. Frayed edges, asymmetries of cuts, the memory of the twisted fabrics. . . there is a multiplicity of possibilities that keep the designers connected to their affective bond with designing. Artefacts always contain more material possibilities than anticipated. Elements are either reproduced or challenged throughout those happenings. The properties of the fabric are thus to be understood as conditions of atmospheric effects. Any new twist and turn sets the design process in motion. Any bad surprises spark tangible disappointment or divergences in preference between the designers, thus blocking the process.

Ultimately, the fabrics definitely exist in relation to the designers, as a manifestation of who they are as makers at that moment. This ‘sensitivity or care towards the pressures of immediate localities’ (Jørgensen & Holt, 2019, p. 19) is key. The affective reaction needs to happen for designers to move on. However, affective reaction is far from predictable, and the previous vignette shows there is also a very personal part in these affective prompts. My perception of the colour was different to that of the designer, and this mid-dyed dress may have worked satisfactorily in another designer’s collection. Elle is also guided by the build-up, over the years, of her own style. Her affective potentialities, as a professional designer, are shaped by the feel of the house and the Elle Fonta brand, which relates to personal (creative) experience and previous collections but also to professional choices and external influences – to which I will return to later.

Bodies in performance and nothing considered as definitive

How, then, do Elle and Ada engineer the affective capacity of their space? Through experiments. As they ‘wander around’ in the studio, the two designers try things out. Their senses ‘sharpen on the surfaces of things taking form’ (Stewart, 2011, p. 448). As Elle and Ada move back and forth, several experimentations take place: the material reveals itself in volume while other elements materialize in the samples. The designers get an emotional kick out of these experimentations, lived as ‘moments of potentiality and promise’ (Michels & Steyaert, 2017, p. 98). Designing then means attempting to produce the image that renders what the designers have in mind, and in body, and the outcome of designing is seeing it formed.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 4.

The happenings of materials afford an embodied experience of space and atmosphere as performative landscapes or ‘sceneries’ (Jørgensen & Holt, 2019, p. 20). Elle and Ada design because they can see, touch and feel, meaning they can capture a certain relationship of shapes, patterns and a given outline of space. Designing becomes a vector of the opportunities to move between the spaces of possibility opened up by the body and gestures.

A certain number of pieces from the winter collection are made following a patchwork style. Elle and Ada recycle pieces of fabrics they like (from previous collections, but also from current fabric fairs) and they try new things. Ada holds the pattern of the patchwork shirt in front of her, they arrange the pieces in different orders and modalities, they trial things, rediscuss, try again, go back to their first idea, touch the fabric, try the shirt on. As they work, they realize that certain fabrics are easier to sew together than others, and the shirt then takes another direction. It is obvious they enjoy doing it, as they keep trying and trying just to see the endless available possibilities.

This situation shows how the use of recycled pieces and sewing trials organizes sensory-spatial experiences. The affectivity engendered here is brought on by the unforeseen events of studio life, whether moments of colouring, ripping, sewing, or some other material experience. It is substantially through experimentation that Elle and Ada make sense of the task at hand. Rather than a dramatic burst of inspiration, designing instead unfolds as it follows a series of cues arising in the course of the formative activity, prompting the mixing of colours and textures. The emotional enjoyment and expression involved in these moments is manifest. The sense of something happening becomes tactile. Experimenting is repeated and elaborated for the sake of its attendant affects. Their eyes might find any object interesting:

They have been working on the pink coat since early morning; the belt has now disappeared, and the coloured flounce is around the neck. I can see that they are disappointed – the coat has not quite materialized as they had imagined it. The atmosphere is tense. And then, at one point, they start looking at my own coat, hanging next to the front door. They examine it, use it to see how much separation between the buttons would suit the new coat. They virtually deconstruct the coat, grasp an idea here and there. . . and the atmosphere lightens.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 5.

Any element might enter the stage and end up involved in the process, triggering excitement and affective renewal. The extract above reveals how unplanned-for and unexpected elements enter the studio and unleash new affective potentialities. In the studio, then, there are times of uncertainty and breakdowns that propel the design process. Fragments of lace give way to new white fragments, and the washing machine dyes them in unexpected ways. Elle and Ada’s restless experimentation is characterized by an accepted openness to doubt and, ultimately, the impossibility of completeness. So is their persistence with the direct experience of making. Designing is a continuous and unfinished process of de- and re-construction. Elle tells me several times that the only reason forcing her to finalize things is the deadline. Nothing is definitive, except her affective research through material experimentations.

The physical staging of the room itself also generates affects. This setup allows for (or even invites) the unexpected. Re-composing the studio differently creates a space for new resonances and new atmospheric performances. ⁶ In fact, Elle and Ada never know in advance how many pieces will ultimately make up the new collection. As designers, they progressively unravel the collection while coping with things that emerge ‘en route’. They follow their affective experiences, which can go in any direction. Sometimes they end up with 50 pieces, sometimes 70. The explicit work of the staging atmosphere creates discontinuities or contrasts in their experience of the studio. And this experience is, above all, spatial.

Studio space or envelopment

Their environment is to be understood as an affective constellation, or an enveloping milieu. The two designers enter a space (that of the studio) where affective reactions to embodied-material practices rule. Every morning they start all over again, with a bright and clean studio, and throughout the day all these various things pile up around the space. They have them all to hand, to try, examine, look at, work with, move from one place to another. . . At the end of the day, they clean everything up so they can get a fresh start the following morning. Creative action always requires adjustments to these circumstances. Even having the radio on or music playing can ‘get in the way’ of design. The form of the studio provides a stage, which is a condition for atmospheres to emanate (Böhme, 2016). Patterns in the composition of atmospheres are either reproduced or changed. As Jørgensen and Holt note, any arrangement of ‘light, colour, sound, material surfaces (. . .) create(s) a scenographic totality’ which allows atmospheres to emerge and enables a ‘mood-inducing embodied experience of the space’ (2019, p. 5). A garment will not be finalized until the end – meaning once the collection is packed and ready for the fairs.

In the following episode, the garment emerges at two different points in time, exemplifying the process of progressive forming within the space and time of the studio:

One of the centrepieces of the collection is a large coat made in heavy wool. Elle and Ada spend an incredible amount of time on it, going back and forth, trying different colours, different shapes, before finally agreeing on a certain design. In the end, I help them sew the hem, and the wool is so heavy it takes me half a day. But then, out of nowhere, one morning about 15 days later, Elle looks at it once again, looks at the colour palette right next to it at that moment, and changes her mind on the hem, just from looking at the colour choices. I have to undo the hem, and sew a new one, a different one. To me, the change seems to come ‘out of nowhere’, but you can tell how important it is to Elle.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 6.

In the above extract, the material placement of creativity, understood as spatially configured, is observed: Elle looks at the colour palette that is right next to the coat at that precise moment in time. The form of the garment emerges within the realization of it, following what the designers feel like doing with it. The garment acquires form according to an affective preference at some point in time. The boundaries of the creative perimeter move and are unpredictable, creating conditions for affective encounters. Atmospheres emanate from the ensemble of elements that make up the creative object.

Compounding the process, bodies effectively engage in these activities of creation-in-motion. Atmospheres, after all, are defined as ‘what is experienced in bodily presence in relation to person and things or in space’ (Böhme, 1993, p. 119, my emphasis). The mutual interplay between material modulations and sensing bodies is obvious. There is a sensorial way of knowing that permeates practices and provides hints and clues. On this, I noted in my diary:

Designing takes shape, between fittings, sewing machine noises, (. . .) and most of all repeated looks in the mirror to give expression to the garment. Elle and Ada try on the clothes, walk with them, talk about them, with them, looking at the mirror while twisting around on every side to get a full view of the worn garment, moving with it as much as possible. They are playing around until they feel it’s right (. . .) A smile on their faces means approval.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 7.

Here, bodies are on alert, readily engaged. The designing process involves moments of literally staging and performing with the garments in front of each other (or the mirror). The sensing and affective body of the designer remains a grounding presence. It is addressed here in a multifaceted role of enacting the garment by performing a walk, feeling the garment on the skin and moving with it as a dressed person, and looking at oneself and sensing the affective potentiality of the garment within its own performance. The transmittable affect in these spaces-of-making highlights momentary performances as an essential part of the design. Momentary performances enable Elle and Ada to ‘mock up’ a new movement in a matter of seconds and provide instant evidence to inform a collaborative idea. Their joint performance is a decisive feature of creative action and can intensify both the experience and the imagination. Things gain momentum, and the atmosphere fills and forms the room. The affective intensity of the performance is intensified by the agents’ mutual enjoyment, which amplifies the mimetic and contagious aspects of the affects involved. In these moments, Elle, Ada and their bodies relate to one another, all porous to affect. Through gestures and hands, they can unite the garment in its myriad different perspectives.

Consequently, atmospheres change as the agents’ bodies move through space and are exposed to changing sensory stimuli. Constant propositions of interactive creativity unfold to temporally reach an agreement, and this can only happen via coordination through manipulation. Note that there is no clear division of labour. Sometimes Elle will start a piece and Ada will pass by, suggest something. . . and end up finishing it.

OPEN IN VIEWER Figure 8.

Over time, they have developed their own special ways of understanding each other. Designing unfolds as inherently affective and collective, for the force in this process comes from how receptivity is connected with spontaneity – from how the power to be affected is connected to the power to affect (Massumi, 2002). Interaction and feedback make space for the affective experience to unfold through sensory collaborative experiences. This attitude demands an atmospheric understanding of the other, be it intellectual (through words, where discursive elements can be addressed as components of affective atmospheres) or non-verbal (through adopted or manifested gestures). Atmospheres can be described as ‘envelopments’ as well as ‘ways of being together’ (Anderson, 2009). A palpable change in the shared atmosphere can also be brought about by a change in the personal atmosphere emanating from one designer, disagreement in the forms of an angry demeanour, for example, discernible from body language and behaviour, i.e. tone of voice, eagerness, hesitation, quickness or slowness. This mutual encoding continually unfolds along with various ups and downs, converging most of the time but diverging at others, in ‘spatial swirls of affects’, to use Thrift’s apt term (2006, p. 143).

Yet the ‘collective’ dimension entails affective forces that go far beyond the studio, and which intrude into the immersed tactility of the scenes described above.

Fashion space or the broader conditions of atmosphere

In addition to being an affect that emerges from the encounter between bodies, atmosphere is also an external force to these bodies, ‘at once a condition and itself conditioned’ (Anderson & Ash, 2015, p. 3). Creative work would not surface in all its dimensions without the presence of absent but felt forces. These ‘palpable and sensory yet imaginary and uncontained atmospheric attunements’ (Stewart, 2011, p. 445) contribute to the work just as much as the agents within the studio. Sensory experiences and feelings are transformed by conscious choices as well as the outside influences that mediate and organize perceptive fields, bodily gestures, and stylistic expression.

First, the configuration of affective prompts can be intentional. For instance, Elle always recruits her assistant designers from two design schools that she knows – either because she has been there or because she has worked with them. Thus, when she recruits a person (in this case, Ada), she recruits someone with an implicit artistic universe and sensitivity, a specific stylistic as well as material expression. She knows that the new recruit will be trained and accustomed to a certain way, with which she is familiar. The ‘creative match’ will be easier, as will the access to – or design of – the studio atmosphere. For instance, Ada comes from a school called ISAA (Institut Supérieur des Arts Appliqués), which implicitly means that she knows art history and the trends in contemporary art, that she has learnt to sew in a certain way, that she is well versed in the ‘flou’ (as opposed to tailoring) and in colour harmonies. This background forms a ‘cohesive glue of habit and embodied values’ (Jørgensen & Holt, 2019, p. 19) that will resonate with Elle’s own sensual capacities. The intentional orchestration of atmospheres is oriented towards her ideals of how the studio practice should feel and unfold. Imaginary and symbolic spaces are brought inward into sensory and affective reach.

Furthermore, outside forces also include those over which Elle has little or no control. Atmospheres in fashion carry normative forces that also proceed from very distant things (Esposito, 2011; Korica & Bazin, 2019). Some atmospheric compositions become possible while others remain impossible. For instance, the first step in clothing design is the choice of fabric. To source the fabric, Elle goes to fabric fairs to select the ones that catch her eye. She places orders and then receives the ordered fabrics in her studio to start the new collection a few weeks later. The choice of fabrics presented at these shows depends on the fabrics displayed in haute couture and during the season’s fashion shows. Atmospheres at these fairs are laden with current ideals, as well as norms, as they come into being (Huopalainen, 2016; Titton, 2018). If thick wools and tartan patterns have been seen on the catwalks, then they will easily be found at these fairs. This means that industry forces have an indirect yet manipulative influence on independent designers (Barkey & Godart, 2013; Bazin & Korica, 2021). These influences, too, take shape in specific affective capacities that participate in the unfolding of the studio atmosphere. In this sense, some specific compositions become possible while others do not. Fabric choices are part of the package of established ways of composing within the fashion sphere. Choosing from among the fabrics on show at the fairs is essential, because these are the very fabrics that will then be recognized by buyers – who are in tune with the trends in the industry. Here the shadow cast by fashion decision-makers is strongly felt. There is a need to clarify such ‘affective restrictions’. Atmosphere is both an effect that emanates from a gathering of agents and a cause that may itself have some degree of ‘weight’ of influence on the creative act. Conditionality or configuration reveals itself very basically through this sensory-affective order of attunement or restriction. Time is key here; it is through this breach that order is also instilled. Fashion calendars create a temporality that is optimized in mercantile terms. Designers can neither escape it nor ‘appropriate’ it in their own ways (Müller, 2020). The packed schedule of fashion fairs and shows and its social organization of time is a powerful and hegemonic tool of control (Cuganesan, 2022; de Vaujany, Leclercq-Vandelannoitte, Munro, Nama, & Holt, 2021).

And so, I could draft an open-ended list of the elements that condition without determining an atmosphere, which itself is a reminder of ‘the (im)material heterogeneity of the origins for this or that atmosphere’ (Anderson & Ash, 2015, p. 48). Taken together, the two examples given above converge to convey the idea of how ‘everything emanates atmosphere, and everything is maintained within an atmosphere’ (Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos, 2013, p. 43). Creative studio atmospheres grow organically out of the locale and the designers working in the studio, as well as by being part of a fashion network and atmosphere that exceeds them, either consciously (choosing the training pathway for recruits) or unconsciously (choosing fabric samples from a selection that has already been made by fashion influencers).