Françoise Grange, Amplepuis (69), Rhône (69)

This is one I left for later: the exhibition 'Née Fille' in the Musée Barthélémy Thimonnier by the feminist artist Françoise Grange. In it, she says that she has tried to understand what could lead a torturer to accomplish such acts of cruelty. The philosophy of Hannah Arendt features strongly here, and after eliminating 'psychopathic misogynists', Grange uses Arendt's expression 'absence of thought', which is absence of reflection, absence of responsibility, which can lead to an ideology: that of asking no questions, obeying rules along the lines of 'That's what we've always done', or 'It's the will of God', or the totalitarian 'You don't question the orders of those in power'. In this way, a person is no longer responsible for acts of obscenity, only loyal to his religion, his social group or his rulers. This legitimises appalling acts, the will of those in power is accomplished without moral conscience, job done. This inevitably causes us to consider Arendt's expression 'The banality of evil', the normalisation of obscenity to women, such as the traditions of clitoral excision and infibulation (the sewing up of the vulval lips); the enforced marriage of  young girls; the shutting up of widows in darkened places; the reduction of women to their reproductive function; the stoning of victims of rape; the allowing of temporary marriages (just a form of prostitution); women being forced to hide their bodies and being denied access to education; the list is endless.

Men grow up still believing in ancient customs: if they didn't they'd be cutting themselves off from their society. What they do is in 'good faith', they remain persuaded that women are inferior, witches or prostitutes, unworthy of respect. Women are to be feared, so it is necessary to tame them, dominate them, subject them to male wishes and punish them. 'Née Fille' is an extremely powerful argument in favour of the freedom of women, of their resistance to men's barbarities, and is a deeply moving experience, surely especially today when women in Afghanistan are returning to a horrific life which existed centuries ago?

The exhibits are accompanied by poems, but if it would be inappropriate for me to translate them. Suffice to say that we (yes, men too!) should all be feminists now. If not, there's no hope.

Barthélémy Thimonnier, Amplepuis (69), Rhône (69)

Barthélemy Thimonnier (1793-1857) was born in L'Arbresle (Rhône) and died in Amplepuis (Rhône), a village to which his parents moved when he was very young. When he left his parents he first moved to Panissières as a tailor, and then to a suburb in Saint-Étienne. It was in working for his customers that he dreamed of mechanising the sewing process, and in fulfilling his dream he became the first creator of the working sewing machine. He signed the patent in partnership with Auguste Ferrand, a mining engineer, in 1830 with a view to making uniforms for the army. However, his workshop was destroyed by workers fearing that they would lose their livelihood due to mechanisation. Thimmonnier returned to Amplepuis to re-take up work as a tailor, although he came up with three more patents, each improving on his original design. But in spite of winning prizes at exhibitions and receiving praise from the press, sales were not forthcoming. His life ended in poverty and he was initially buried in a paupers' grave.

However, the name Thimonnier on sewing machines contiinued one way or another until as late as 1983. Le Musée Barthélémy Thimonnier in Amplepuis remembers the man which with a large number of sewing machines from all over the world.

The first sewing machine, by Thimonnier, 1829 (?).

The Thimonnier & Cie machine Pic-Up, undated.

Neither Étienne Thimonnier, Barthélémy's son, not any successors, produced sewing machines. Those under the tradename Thimonnier were mainly imported from Germany, or Japan, as this Janôme Thimonnier model of about 1972.

I remember very well the Bernina model my mother had, although this, at about 1944, is much earlier.

Boîte à lire, Amplepuis (69), Rhône (69)

Boîte à lire, Amplepuis, with a number of books but I only relieved it of one: Octave Mirbeau's Le Jardin des supplices.