Everything starts with the blank page. The canvas of the first scribble is where the sketch is born. White is the color of the enamel given before the first firing of the clay that becomes ceramic.
When one thinks of Brennand, one thinks of colors, dimensions, and especially disruption. On the runway show, the last chapter of our collection, we chose to picture this vast body of work with only the tones of the first firing. White.
An invitation to take a closer look and immerse oneself in the details. There are no prints, only lines. The designs are light nuances between the shine and the opacity of the Jacquard. The white is yellowish and oxidized. There are moments in which it is it is pigmented with a lighter shade of clay, pinkish. In others, it is almost transparent in a dip of organza.
The silk plays with proportions. Its three-dimensionality in flowers depicts the sculptures, never limited to just one plane. They come out of themselves, sprout, and mix with the plants that insist on being born poetically all around. The silk shines, folds itself into pleats, and creates volumes with the shantung in its rustic and imperfect texture. Just as Brennand liked it, nothing is perfect.
Our linen receives the honors of the ceramics created by potters exclusively for us and on our scale. They are unique, minuscule pieces, almost surgical. Francisco’s legacy in our dimension. The most nostalgic fabric enhances the only points of color in the presentation: enameled cashews in different shapes and volumes, organic leaves and cameos, and mosaics with mystical and subtle formats. The ceramic spheres mix with wood, a combination of that which is natural, present throughout the Workshop. The linen also receives another century-old craft: precious embroidery techniques. The Labyrinth stitch, where the thread is unraveled and is the pencil of the design, the Richelieus, with their breaths that honor Recife and the delicate Boa Noite, a dance of patience with the thread.
So many nuances of the same color, which is the union of all of them. The shine is natural, refracts the reflection, and meets the Moon, the sea, and its foam. It meets Lia from Itamaracá with her ciranda, in the circular rhythm of special and infinite encounters. Two entities, the same Recife, gigantic arts.