“I found it was impossible to speak about some issues without using the visual language of Christianity, that language so many have been forced to learn.”
You wouldn’t go to Mairi Millar for pretty, banal trinkets. The Trinidadian jewelry designer, the latest subject of our Sarabande series, focuses more on iconoclastic pieces that rail against some of her home country’s heaviest woes: from Catholicism’s role in Trinidadian history, the country’s treatment at the hands of colonization and the deep-rooted abuse of women in modern society.
In the interview below, which has been edited for length and clarity, Millar gets candid on her experience in Catholic education, how folklore shapes both her understanding of home and her design, and her recent collaboration with London Fashion Week’s hottest ticket, Paolo Carzana.
Juno Kelly: Your work includes Christian iconography to criticize religion’s role in your home country, Trinidad & Tobago. When did you become aware of the religion’s flaws and how they found their way into your work?
Mairi Millar: It’s something that’s molded into society naturally, but growing up in an atheist household and then attending Catholic schools, the flaws became even more apparent. Being force-fed these conflicting stories, having little option on whether or not you participate in religious rituals, and the holes in their teachings became very obvious very quickly. The most interesting part was understanding how it’s influenced Trinidadian culture, whether you practice the faith or not. When I was completing my BA at Rhode Island School of Design and had distance from home to reflect on and make work about my country, I found it impossible to speak about some issues without using Christianity’s visual language that so many have been forced to learn.
JK: Aside from the religious aspect, how did growing up in Trinidad & Tobago influence your design style?
MM: As Trinidadians, storytelling is an inherent part of us. Being from a country that has had independence for just 60 years, we are still trying to write our own narrative and identity. What stories do we latch onto if our identity isn’t fully formed? If not the horrors of our history, it’s through the narratives we’ve created to process it, and for me, those are stories from folklore and carnival, which I reference in my work. Also, when identity feels fluid and nebulous, we look to the physical as conduits for these stories, as humans have done for millennia. I look for grounding in the natural objects found back home — proof of existence, physical stand-ins for an identity we cannot fully understand.
JK: Your La Diablesse / Our Lady of Sorrows is based on a re-work of folklore. Can you talk me through the process behind making the piece – from inception to creation?
MM: La Diablesse is one of the most famous Trinidadian folklore figures and one of our local versions of the man-eating temptress trope. I say “one of” because many other notable folklore characters follow a similar narrative. Looking at our current society, I saw the opposite of this narrative, with stories of violence against women so commonplace you could categorize it as part of our culture. With my piece “La Diablesse/ Our Lady of Sorrows,” I reimagine her tale, not as the deceptive witch waiting in the wilderness to lure men but as a sorrowful figure traversing the forest in quiet mourning. Grieving the women we have lost, she carries their names scribed in silver on her veil, bathing them in the moonlight as she walks.
JK: How did you get involved with Sarabande?
MM: I had always been a fan of Alexander McQueen’s work, as someone who highlighted the power of wearable objects and storytelling. So the possibility of being part of an institution started by him meant so much to me. Also, if there were ever a place to accept and encourage artists that delve into the macabre, it would be Sarabande. Having applied with my graduate collection, which incorporated bones from the Thames, pig’s blood, and human hair, I didn’t expect big jewelry brands to beg me to work for them. I was also keen to contribute my perspective to their artistic network as someone born and raised in the Caribbean.
JK: Where do you see your jewelry collections heading – do you see yourself collaborating with more fashion designers (like you did with Paolo Carzana) or focusing more on jewelry as art pieces, symbolic of something bigger? Or both?
I’ve always loved jewelry as an artistic medium beyond its practical wearability and aesthetic value, so my heart will always be in making jewelry as art. At the same time, collaboration can be so enriching, creating this conversation between you and a designer’s work. I don’t mind occupying both worlds, but for collaborations, it depends on the designer and the collection’s message.
JK: You post a lot of your work to Instagram, accompanied by in-depth captions. Do you believe your work’s backstory is important for buyers to understand?
MM: Definitely. Of course, not everyone will have the interest or patience, but I love my work to have a symbiotic relationship with text; I see it as another tool. Interpretation is up to anyone, but I like sharing what was on my mind when I created a piece. Hence, they feel more included instead of seeming like I want to be mysterious and withhold information for my ego.
