A Sociocultural Study of the Fashion Industry in Papua New Guinea

Faculty Visitor Paige West discusses her collaborative anthropological work, biocultural revitalization in New Ireland, and a new study of Papua New Guinea’s burgeoning fashion industry.

How have you found the experience of being a Faculty Visitor at Reid Hall?

I would like to begin by noting that these nearly three weeks have been among the most productive periods of my time at Columbia.

My work is most effective under conditions that allow for sustained, uninterrupted concentration: rising early, beginning the day with coffee, and writing continuously until my focus is exhausted. Such a rhythm is feasible during periods of independent research—such as doctoral study or sabbatical—when one has greater control over both schedule and pace. It becomes considerably more difficult in Morningside Heights or in Papua New Guinea, and nearly impossible during active teaching terms.

During my time at Reid Hall, I have been able to write with the same intensity and consistency that characterized my graduate training. In retrospect, it became clear that I could not fully engage with the fashion project to which I had been invited until I had first cleared intellectual space by addressing other matters that required articulation.

We’ll come back to the fashion project, but first tell us more about your work in “biocultural revitalization.” What does that consist of?

For several decades, I have worked in close collaboration with a colleague, John Aini. In addition to his roles as an activist, fisheries management specialist, and founder of a non-governmental organization, he is also a maimai—a term that may be loosely translated as “chief.” Together, we have partnered with communities in New Ireland Province to support the revitalization of Indigenous systems that have historically sustained balanced relationships between people and their environments.

Approximately fifteen years ago, community members approached us to collaborate on the revitalization of vala, complex biocultural and spiritual practices involving the customary closure of land or reef areas by elders and communities in order to allow for rest and ecological regeneration.

During my residency at Reid Hall, I have written approximately 17,000 words on this work, drawing on extensive field notes and interviews. I found that I was unable to begin the fashion project I had initially proposed until I had fully articulated this material. The time away from campus, combined with the uninterrupted working conditions afforded by a quiet office at Reid Hall, made it possible to engage in sustained writing of this kind.

Why is it that you’re writing now, after doing this work for over a decade?

Much of our work has taken place in the field, which has complicated the process of writing and publication. Each year, I travel to Papua New Guinea immediately following the conclusion of the academic term in New York and return shortly before the next semester begins, leaving limited time to engage in sustained analysis of the resulting materials. Until now, it has been difficult to dedicate the necessary attention to this body of work.

Moreover, in accordance with our ethical obligations to the communities with whom we collaborate, we refrained from publishing on this highly productive partnership until both we and our interlocutors agreed that the empirical foundations of the work were sufficiently developed and clearly understood. Such deliberative, community-accountable research necessarily requires time.

There is also a strategic imperative for publication at this juncture. A large international conservation organization has begun to appropriate this work, claiming that such forms of cultural and ecological revitalization fall within its institutional mandate. John and I are deeply concerned by this appropriation, as the work in question belongs neither to that organization nor to us, but to the communities themselves. This case exemplifies a broader pattern in which international conservation organizations absorb and reframe Indigenous resurgence practices, subsequently mobilizing these narratives to secure funding and legitimacy within global centers of power such as New York City and Washington, D.C.

How did you come to study the fashion industry of Papua New Guinea, and how is that connected to your previous work?

New Ireland has been profoundly affected by climate change. In this context, climate change does not constitute an abstract or future-oriented existential concern; rather, it is an ongoing material reality that communities are already experiencing. The cumulative effects of environmental change are overwhelming for local populations, and they are equally overwhelming for those who work alongside these communities and witness firsthand the challenges they face.

This situation prompted me to ask how one might engage analytically and creatively with such conditions in ways that remain life-affirming—ways that do not lead to emotional exhaustion or paralysis.

Through my research, I’ve come  to know a couple in rural New Ireland who are deeply engaged in ritual and customary practice. Four years ago, I began a series of conversations with their granddaughter, a fashion designer based in the capital, Port Moresby. Port Moresby is among the most vibrant urban centers in the region, marked by a level of internationalism comparable to cities such as Paris or New York, and it reflects the extraordinary diversity of Papua New Guinea, which is home to more than 800 living languages—more than any other country worldwide.

Our discussions centered on the ways in which her grandparents’ ritual and sociospiritual practices informed her work in fashion. From these conversations emerged the idea for a project examining how Indigenous sociospiritual practices circulate within and shape the rapidly expanding fashion industry in Papua New Guinea.

How did the fashion project evolve after those initial conversations?

I was lucky to receive a presidential research award at Barnard College for the project.

This summer and fall, I met with people in Papua New Guinea to discuss what they thought a project focused on the fashion industry there should look like: What questions do they find compelling? What avenues of collaboration do they want to see opened moving forward?

I met not only with designers, but also people making all of the materiality of the fashion industry, like fabric designers, weavers, and printers. I also spent some time with people who produce shows and design events. There’s a very large Indigenous fashion world in the Melanesian Pacific already. The one in Papua New Guinea is quite new, and people that are working to create an industry there.

At Reid Hall, I’ve had a chance to organize my notes and thousands of photos, and think about next steps.

Can you tell us more about the internship programs you’ve developed in New Ireland, and future plans for that?

Anthropology has been great about critiquing its own colonial legacy, but it isn’t as great about transforming its methodology to prevent dispossession. Around 2007, I decided I would never do a project again in Papua New Guinea without partners.

In our work, John and I incorporate funding for young people in New Ireland who want to do internships, master’s, or PhDs. We’ve done that very successfully thanks to funding from Synchronicity Earth and an anonymous foundation. Our current internship program focuses on biocultural revitalization and creating pipelines for women, who have fewer opportunities in conservation. I would also like to develop the same kind of internship programs with the fashion project.

Currently, John and I have three interns. Two are students at the University of Papua New Guinea, working on honors papers, and one is a student from the National Fisheries College working on fisheries management. These young women are thriving and seeing this is a true privilege of my work.

Have you had the chance to connect with colleagues in Paris?

Many museums and organizations in France have long histories of working in Melanesia and the wider Pacific Islands region. For instance, I met with colleagues from CREDO, a major French institute at the University of Marseille, which focuses on work in Melanesia. Together we are planning a project focused on biocultural diversity revitalization in several sites. Without my time at Reid Hall, planning this work would have been difficult. The in-person meetings were crucial for this collaboration.

I have also been in contact with colleagues at the Musée du Quai Branly, which is planning an exhibition devoted to the Birds of Paradise of New Guinea. Titled Plumes du Paradis, the exhibition will bring together nearly 190 works, including adornments, paintings, taxidermied specimens, fashion pieces and accessories, artworks, and illustrated books. It explores how these birds have been collected, represented, admired, and transformed over time across Oceania, Asia, and Europe. As a direct result of our in-person meeting, I will be working with the organizers of this exhibit to try to bring some events connected to it to Reid Hall in 2026.

This meeting at Musée du Quai Branly also set the stage for a new collaboration focused directly on my Melanesian fashion work that I hope will begin in late 2026 and that I envision as bringing designers and scholars from Papua New Guinea to Paris to collaborate and build something together.

This interview has been edited for clarity.