TRADITIONS
The national costumes reveal the demographic peculiarities of the
population in the district. The adornments on display, including belt
buckles, belts, rings, bracelets, etc. have been used as accessories
to the clothing. The Bulgarian folk style embroidery typical for Varna
region is very good example for its traditions. Colouring, composition
and technique produce not only artistic effects but also serve to
differentiate individual Varna regional traditions.
The festive and family
traditions such as wedding, Christmas, New Year tide, “Petlyov” Day,
St. Lazar’s Day, St. George’s Day, Easter, the New Year ritual
“Kamili” and some others are illustrated by folk dresses and ritual
requisite.
Traditional
arts and crafts have captured the sun's rays on the ceilings of
the National Revival houses , the flowers of the gardens and fields on glazed
earthen jugs, the riot of colour on carpet and fleecy rugs, the soft radiance
of coppers, silver bracelets and belt buckles. This beauty of the past
explains the interest in it today.
Secret
messages coded in Bulgarian embroidery?
In times past, traditional Bulgarian embroidery, a true national
heritage, used to adorn traditional attire and add up an intrinsic
touch to household decoration. Nowadays students of the craft say that
though of overly decorative nature, needlework has originally had an
apostrophic designation, i.e. to ward off or combat evil. Man has
since ancient times lived in an aggressive environment, in the midst
of supernatural hazards and harmful impacts, and has consequently had
to build up a magic protective system. Embroidery was originally meant
to perform exactly this task - to protect man from evil forces, says
ethnographer Anguel Goev.
“Traditionally, Bulgarian embroidery would be done at the high
neckline, the bottom of the sleeves and skirts, i.e. at the points
where the dress would have some sort of opening or slash. According to
folk belief, clothes safeguard man from evil forces, but evil invades
through dress openings. Hence, the protective needlework ornamentation
would be executed at the points considered most vulnerable to
invasion. Embroidery is believed to enclose in a circle the dress
aperture thus preventing evil from making its way to the human body”,
says ethnographer Anguel Goev.
Three colours - red, blue and green - prevail in traditional
Bulgarian embroidery.
“An exceptionally powerful protective colour, red is the colour of
blood. It is the embodiment of life. Blood gives, succours and
safeguards life. The second major colour is blue, the colour of the
skies. Red and blue, merging into one, form the so-called ”sacred
marriage of heaven and earth”. A mother and a father give and
safeguard life, so will red and blue do, according to popular belief.
The third predominant colour in Bulgarian embroidery is green, the
colour of nature and a personification of vitality. These three
colours are the underlying traditional Bulgarian needlework colours.
There are several intrinsic Bulgarian embroidery pattern ornaments -
circle, triangle, quadrangle and diamond, each one carrying designated
symbolism. The circle is the so-called apostrophic circle. Anything
enclosed within a circle is evil proof, i.e. impenetrable to evil.
Triangles in their various aspects also have their specific meaning”,
said Anguel Goev.
Nowadays traditional Bulgarian needlework has
continued to fire the imagination of Bulgarian women, though it is not
so widely used in clothes making any longer. The most ardent
embroidery adherents have set up a National “Bulgarian Embroidery”
Club. Given their extremely busy schedule of meetings, exhibitions and
contests, we can indeed trust that the tradition of Bulgarian
needlework is still alive.
“Very much so”, comments Illiana Kosseva, Club
President and Editor of “Bulgarian Embroidery” magazine.” We have
ladies who are able to reproduce the most obsolete stitches and
patterns, creating unique pieces. A great number of our members
collect pieces of clothing from old times; they never stop hunting
authentic old-time designs and patterns, they’re even buying them, no
matter the cost. Increasingly of late, Russian, American and Bulgarian
experts have asserted there’s an ancient character code embedded in
the embroidery. I myself have often wondered what these twists and
turns and zigzags are all about, whoever thought of them? It is only
logical to assume that they reproduce flowers or
some
other form of nature. Well, it turns out these are interlaced symbols,
imparting entire messages. For instance, the sign of Tangra can often
be discerned in embroidery patterns common in Samokov area. The sign
of Tangra means” I am” and “ I shall be”, i.e. it is a symbol of
prosperity. Our forefathers have not bequeathed us masses of gold
treasures, palaces or lands; they’ve left behind great spiritual and
traditional wealth. These are the Bulgarian embroidery, hand-woven
fabrics and carpets and icons.”
Clothes Makers come to the village
In times long past, clothes making was exclusively a
wintertime occupation for…. countrymen, who would, as a norm, be busy
husbanding the land and tending the livestock in spring, summer and
autumn. Before the first ”professional clothes makers” ever
appeared,
clothes making was a strictly female domain. Unmarried girls would sew
by hand not only their own clothes; they’d be expected to fashion a
set of clothing for their prospective husband as well. Sets of female
and male clothing were an integral part of a girl’s marriage dowry.
Originally, clothes makers were hard to come by - one
clothes maker would cater for a number of villages. Possessing no
workshop of their own, they were in fact itinerant craftsmen. They’d
set up a makeshift shop in a village or even do their job in
villagers’ homes whose custom they had won. When they would be through
they’d go on to another village.
The arrival of a clothes maker to the village would be
a cause of greatest joy for the unmarried girls, folk songs say. A
girl going by the name of Tsveta got up very early in the morning to
sweep clean the courtyard and arrange the chairs ahead of the arrival
of the clothes makers, as would be the custom of welcoming most
cherished visitors. The song says the clothes makers are coming to cut
and sew a new Sunday best for the girl.” They cut it on Easter, sewed
it by St. George’s Day and she put the dress on St. Elijah’s Day”, the
song specifies.
Way back, young girls would be entitled to a new set of
clothes only once in the year, mostly so for Easter or St. George Day
celebrations. Married women fared worse than girls - a new dress would
be something of a
white
crow for them. We must mention here that the traditional Bulgarian
wardrobe tended to be rather humble - a set of clothes for weekdays
and a single Sunday best only. The better-offs could afford a better
stocked wardrobe of several sets of clothes of thick woollens and
cottons. In those days clothing materials were so hard-wearing they’d
be worn for years and possibly even handed down to the next one in
line. Specimens of folk attire, fallen into disuse 5-6 generations
ago, can be publicly viewed in ethnographic museums. One can even get
a private viewing at someone’s home where the women in the family have
preserved with loving care the traditional family heritage.
In the period of the National Revival(18-19c) clothes
making established itself as an independent trade. Folk songs began to
mention clothes makers that had become shop owners with a score of
apprentices, the clothes maker’s son being one of them. This comes to
show the trade was getting to be hereditary. In yet another song, of a
rather derisive nature, we hear that the local beauty Kalina walks
past the shop and the
dress
maker gets so engrossed in her that he brakes the needle in two and
makes a tangle of the threads. In another song, we hear about a group
of clothes makers wishing that the first person to walk into their
shop be someone who’d bring them luck in their job ”so that needles
wouldn’t break and threads would stay straight and long”. Hardly
having spoken their wish, their dream comes true - here comes
early-rising, pretty and lively Todorka. In yet another song, we hear
the story of a young clothes maker, who, while sewing a multi-coloured
dress, is silently praying to God to send to him a pretty young
lassie.
But were dress makers considered a good match?
Their trade was never a well-paying one; it did not attach any special
social status in the parochial community, either. And hence, the
never-ending joking with dress makers in Bulgarian folk songs. A young
dress maker and a young lassie make a wager. The girl would like him
to cut a tunic for her without scissors and a meter tape and then sew
it without needle or thread. In another song we find a girl making a
wager she” would swim across the sea end to end for the prize of” nine
shops full of dresses”, offered by the dress makers. And yet, we have
to admit, we’ve come across a folk song lauding” a young dress maker”
in a rather poetic and fancy fashion” - he’s described as an eagle,
flying high and wide; his shop is described as a nest sitting on top
of a towering poplar tree.
Folk dress
and stories
The Bulgarians have a saying meaning how very important first
impressions from the way one dresses are and that it takes sometime to
judge the real worth of a person. Traditional Bulgarian folk dress is
a great source of information. To begin with, it used to bear the
marks of the material status of the family. It was supposed to
indicate
whether one was single or married. Folk dress bore
geographical distinctions, every region and even every village having
its specific” fashion”. Hand-made by girls or married women, it
displayed their industriousness, dexterity, imagination, sense of
beauty, coquetry or humility. Folk dress seems to have weaved its way
into numerous folk stories.
A folk song from Central Southern Bulgaria tells about
a pretty girl by the name of Toina puts her best clothes on to show
them off in the village. Taking a leisurely walk in the village
streets, craftsmen are so captivated by the way she looks that they
open widely the doors of their shops, hoping she’ll walk in. Coffee
shops close for the day because all customers leave them to take a
good look at the pretty Toina. The song gives very concise description
of Toina’s dress- it mentions only the vibrant but harmonious colours
of one green and one red sleeveless dress. Various colours and
materials are to be found in the multi-layered Bulgarian female folk
dress. Red and green are distinctive colours of Bulgarian female folk
attire. The tradition of these colours was so enduring that even
attempts by Turkish authorities to banish them during centuries of
oppression in the Bulgarian lands failed dismally. To quote from
another song” the S
ultan
issued an edict forbidding girls to wear red sleeves and green
dresses. In another song we find a girl rebelling against the
prohibition of her beloved colours. Refusing to bow down, she dressed
up in green dresses, red sleeves and walked out of her home holding a
mirror. Joining the horo dance in the village square, the village cadi
(judge) told her to go on wearing her dresses because she looked so
very beautiful in them. White was another principal colour in
Bulgarian folk dress. Listen now to song about a girl who went to
fetch some water, dressed in a fine embroidered apron and a pair of
yellow shoes.
The white shirt, cotton, linen or silk, was
common for all regions in the country. In summer, it was the main item
of female clothing because it ran all the way down to the ankles. In
certain parts rural people would even call it dress. In other parts
still, the shirt bore woven red stripes and squares. In still others,
the shirt was richly embroidered over the sections that stood next to
the neck or the neckline, the sleeves and the bottom part that ran
longer than the upper dress. In Western Bulgaria top clothes were
white all over. In the rest of regions, male top clothes were black or
brown. Female folk dress tended to be more varied- black, green, red
or blue. Folk songs are apt to compare girls’ dresses to a bunch of
flowers.
Rada is at home, stitching away at her new dress only
in the light of the moon, says a folk song, praising the
industriousness and endurance of the girl in making her attire.
Numerous songs speak of girls, meeting in the courtyard to sew, weave
or embroider in each other’s company. Quite often this could be
fateful. One song mentions a girl by the name of Zlata, sewing a fine
linen shirt, with decorations of pure gold thread. A young man passes
by and asks her who this so very special shirt is meant for. Zlata
tells him she’s going to
give
it to the man who’ll take her in marriage. The man tells her he wants
her and the shirt on the spot, without thinking twice. Traditionally,
the girl would be expected to make all wedding gifts herself- clothes
for her future husband, shirts, towels and kerchiefs for the
next-of-kin. There’s yet another song which tells the story of a girl,
who burns all her lovingly prepared trousseau on hearing her fiancé
has jilted her. Another girl is boasting to her friends that her
mother is going to get her married to a black-eyed tailor, who makes
bodices for girls and slippers for married women. Before
clothes-making turned into a trade, every girl’s greatest moment was
to show off her new clothes at the village fetes on Easter and St.
George’s day. The trousseau was supposed to be displayed for public
viewing on her wedding day. Festive and wedding day folk costumes were
the most sumptuous items in the traditional folk wardrobe.
Ethnographic Museum
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PEACE HAVENS of BULGARIA
