Somerset House - Return of the Rudeboy
From Sunday Best to Tribe Called Quest
‘Like a live instagram feed,’ is how creative director Harris Elliot (one half of the team behind ‘Return of the Rudeboy’) introduces the exhibition. It’s exactly this interconnected attitude that ‘Rudeboy’ culture is treated with; class, politics and race are no longer conflicting forces for modern ‘rudies’, instead self expression and social sharing is at its core. And with an operational barber and tailor situated as part of the exhibition, the event is utterly shareable.
For those unaware, the rudeboy is an integral part of British culture. Originating in Jamaica around the 1960s, the sharply dressed men were more associated with violence than inclusion, but the modern iteration, as spectators will see, is more about an attitude of self expression. Upon the wave of immigration from the Caribbean in the late 60s, a culture of assimilation and regeneration of ‘rudie’ culture in particular occurred. Although ‘rudie’ origins were not without tension, violence and hostility, this expo celebrates the influence and modern expression of style, music and individuality originating in the shantytowns of Kingston.
Photographer and filmmaker Dean Chalkley, is the other half of the exhibitions creative duo. Suited in a bar collar, and distinctly tieless, Dean speaks passionately about the fashion, music and mindset of one of Britain’s most idiosyncratic sartorial sub-groups. Both curators are keen to push the idea of modern expression, as opposed to a focus on the antagonistic history of the ‘Rudie’. Instead, touches of travel and migration frame images from the first room; beautiful, worn leather suitcases, complete with luggage stickers, transmit the iconography of migration. Inside images of men and women typify the flair of what it means to be a modern ‘rudie’.
The music is blaring – an eclectic mix of ska, punk and reggae, a playlist comprised of choices by each model. Dean steps in to comment on the importance of music and fashion to the cross cultural dialogue:
‘The exhibition follows a kind of ethos of a cross pollination of concepts and ideas; you can think about it musical terms. When jazz and R&B were prevalent in the states in the 50s, it found its way over to jamaica and when the people there got hold of the music they made it into something of their own, their own unique spin on it: ska music.’
Eventually these influences found their way to Britain. Clearly the 2-tone and mod movements, both musically and sartorially, are indebted to origins rooted within Jamaican culture. Essentially it’s this attitude of absorption and regeneration that provides the common thread running through each image – ‘It’s taking something that’s classic and putting a spin on it, a unique twist on it.’
While the clothes bear similarities, the sartorial attitude – priding quality and individualism – is king. Subtle touches show just how different a pork pie hat can be, as Dean informs us, the brim of one particular hat is fitted with the most modest of ‘stingy brims,’ named for its narrow, almost non-existent, edge.
We soon find ourselves in the ‘hub’ of the expo: the ‘Desmond’s’ inspired barber shop. Harris tells us just the importance of the barber shop in Jamaican culture: ‘it acts as the community center.’ Originally a place where people meet, exchange opinions and styles, the duo hope their version is used in the same way. Acting as the drawing board for originality, an auditorium for opinions and a living, breathing community notice board, the ‘shop’ brings an authenticity to the expo.
It’s a unique conversation between viewer and exhibition, one that brings observers out from the cultural cold and into the community of the modern rudeboy. The more one embraces the community feel of the production, the closer they’ll get to the spirit of the modern rudeboy; confident, connected and proud.