A Cry for Beauty: A Reflection on House of the Father

On the 22nd of May—after the sun had gone down, the stars had begun to shimmer, and the air had turned crisp—hundreds of people found themselves treading up stairs to pack into Wellington Cathedral of St Paul. Inside, warm lights illuminated at ankle height against the light grey tiles, and wooden chairs carved a long runway down the length of the cathedral. In the centre of the runway stood a cross, commanding the audience’s attention to its presence. The event in question was House of the Father, a conceptual fashion runway show by fashion designer, Jayden Spendiff (Dira), and graphic designer, film maker, and producer, Connor Mckissock (Neskha.) 

It wasn’t long before all the seated tickets had been retrieved and excess sold as people purchased a standing ticket. An organ manifested silence amongst the audience’s chatter and eyes were drawn to the head of the cathedral where models slowly entered. First came the garment from the promotional video made by Mckissock that arguably sold many of the tickets— my own included, before I took the role of press. With him, the model carried a rope over his shoulders attached to a sack as he stared down at the floor he dragged it upon—it was a level of theatricality that prompted the audience to view the show not only as a fashion runway, but as an unfolding story. 

Buttoned collared shirts melted into draping gowns, and the organ was replaced by a full choir as the religious references of the garments abstracted. Heeled boots tapping and echoing down the runway became faint whispers of barefoot strides, and the final gown began to walk; a white dress with flaring sleeves, and a headpiece that seemed to resemble a crown—it was beauty in a pure natural form. In contrast with the first model, the final kept her gaze directly in front of her, implying the model's more joyful and innocent role in the story. 

As we, the audience, wished the show was not over, every garment spilled out again on the runway for one final walk, followed by a thank you from Spendiff and Mckissock.

A week later, I sat with Spendiff and a coffee to discuss the life of the show. “Part of being an artist is having a rebellious spirit,” he told me. His spirit led him to scheme his first solo show of 20+ garments in less than 5 months alongside Mckissock at their place of work. Mckissock had previously worked for the cathedral filming the choir and was able to organise the show with their team. Their options were to either make it missionary to the cathedral for free, or pay and have the freedom to design what they wanted. Spendiff explained “spirituality has always been a big part of [his] work, exploring the internal world and different religious ideas has always been super interesting [to him],” thus he chose to make it missionary to the cathedral. 

The connection was not completely point direct, and symbolism was woven throughout with historical reference—such as the 39 odd buttons on a shirt relating to the amount of lashing Jesus Christ was given as 40 even was supposed to kill.

As I spoke with Spendiff, we translated our experiences across artistic mediums in how we navigate carving spaces to exist. He told me that by himself and Mckissock simply taking themselves seriously as artists, they were able to craft a unique event, and once they accepted “not everyone’s going to get” it they pushed their abilities to make an event that hundreds that night did get. We agreed that in putting your work out there confidently, you create these spaces for yourself as an artist, your friends, people you admire, and strangers who didn’t know that your work is what they needed to engage with. This is something that speaks across mediums; from fashion to music to sculpture, it’s something every artist is capable of doing and should do. 

Now, two months after the show, looking back on my conversation with Spendiff, I’ve been considering his thought that “a lot of the time as artists we’re trying to land in the scale between abstract and commercial,” and how one of his goals of the show in May was to create that scale. If artists are to create a new space for themselves and others, then they’ll likely have to find themselves somewhere on that scale too. Though that might seem difficult, especially with the ongoing cost of living crisis, it can be simple. 

Spendiff encouraged other artists to work with their community, expressing how “having a strong community is so important,” finding people who respect your artistry. As Spendiff himself said, there are heaps of “young people on this island doing cool things.” 

He also didn’t sacrifice quality or sustainability, which meant acquiring fabric sponsorship from the Wellington Curtain Bank at the Sustainability Trust. For other artists, this might translate to finding the pre-existing tools available and working with them. 

Most important of all is loving what you make, trusting your concept, and being proud. We all need art, and there is no art better than that which comes with a passion like House of the Father. As Spendiff closed the show saying, “we all need to cry for beauty.”