Thursday, 17 November 2011

A Fresh Start




Klaus Biesenbach
W House Tour
Photography by Dean Kaufman









Homes Project

I remember first reading the Wmagazine article on MoMA PS1 Director, Klaus Biesenbach, and being totally taken back by, what I first saw as, the brutal minimalism of his home.  How could anybody live like that?  Where were all his things?  What happens to a man to make him want to live like that?  As I read on what at first seemed too cold, too clinical, too empty, soon revealed something truly intimate and personal.  For a man who spends his life surrounded by the visual, by the creative, and by the loud, it must be true relaxation to return to a home where there is no noise.  Where others would see emptiness, he sees calm and freedom.  And in that is something I actually find myself looking for as well.

What struck me most were his last words in the article, "Once I have the time, I will get furniture, I will have chairs. I think it would be nice to have a stove. It just doesn’t seem urgent.”  What is urgent for one person may be nothing but an afterthought for another.  It is what creates such diversity amongst us.  Indeed it is for that reason I suppose that we are all so interested in seeing into other people's homes or wardrobes.  We like seeing something different, something alien, some insight into how other people live.  Although perhaps we look at first for something different, in the end, all we really see are the little things that connect us.  There is always something we share.

I decided to post the images of homes designed by various architects for Muji alongside Biesenbach's home as an example of different takes on minimalism.  Connected by a theme, separated by execution.  In both cases there is something about their simplicity that I find incredibly inspirational.  I like the idea of simple and functional design, if for nothing else than as acting as the bare foundations of a home.  Once you have those foundations, or to put it another way, the necessities, then all other objects are something to be added at your leisure.  But maybe there is a luxury to be found in having only the necessities, especially when those necessary objects are objects of beauty.  The idea of simplicity is beguiling to me for the freedom it seems to bring. 

But then I suppose no matter how simple the canvas is, we all by nature wish to express something upon it, however grand or small in gesture.  A red brush stroke is all the more striking when laid upon a pure white canvas than it is when surrounded by an array of other colours.  I like the idea of having a few individual elements that represent something grander in their totality.  They do not necessarily have to be striking and bold, but rather hold meaning to the individual.  Whilst I would struggle to find myself living for any extended period in the emptiness of Biesenbach's home (although were you to add a decent kitchen, I would be good to go), I could be quite comfortable in one of the Muji homes.  Yet in both cases I would still need to make small personal additions.  I like the idea of being able to refine those additions down to what truly matters to me on a personal level.  A few things of importance are nicer than many things that hold no real meaning to me.

The way I like to think of it is like going on holiday.  You arrive at your hotel room - there is a window, a bed, a television, a cupboard, a desk, a fridge, an en-suite.  The space is equipped with the necessities, but it is missing an individuality.  And so with one bag and one suitcase you unpack a condensed version of your life into this empty vessel.  There is a freedom within the fact that you have only what you need, what you love, what you wanted to bring.  You are, in the travelling process, forced to edit your life down to only what you can quite literally carry with you.  I think it is a magical process, and one I wondered whether you could somehow bring into your everyday life.  Not necessarily to the same severity, but as an approach to material possessions.  It is not about denial, of getting rid of things you love, but rather of editing to exactly those things that you do love.  Of course it is then a matter of assessing what it is that you do find beautiful, you do find meaningful, and you do love. 

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

I Met A Genius, Charles Bukowski
(as Sean Penn would say - "an uncommon thought on a common matter")

More Voltage - The Glitch Mob

xxxx

171111


Arson


xxxx

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Friday, 11 November 2011

An Apocalypse of Culture

Comme des Garçons Homme Plus
Fall/Winter 2011








"I never lose my ability to rebel, I get angry and that anger becomes my energy for certain.  I wouldn't be able to create anything if I stop rebelling."
Kawakubo in interview with Takeji Hirakawa (1990)

Patricia Mears called her "the quintessential postmodern designer".  Academics and fashion writers alike have consistently called her an avant-garde genius and interpreted her work as expressions of ardent feminism.  And yet when one considers the fashion media at large, the work of Rei Kawakubo, in the form of her mainlines Comme des Garçons and, its menswear partner, Comme des Garçons Homme Plus, are usually ignored, or at best dismissed as avant-garde oddness.  Comments describing her work as being strange, weird, and even ugly, are not uncommon.  Kawakubo's work has been simultaneously exalted and mocked, called genius and decried as unwearable.  I have never really seen unwearable garments, merely garments that require a little confidence and a little humour - they are either right for you or they are not, and if they are not, that is totally fine by me.

Describing Rei Kawakubo's Fall/Winter 1983 Comme des Garçons collection, Suzy Menkes wrote of models coming down the catwalk "like a race of warrior women".  Defying standard ideals of beauty and commonly inverting notions of the sexualized body, Kawakubo's treatment of the female body is at once empowering and shocking.  Her work, as evidenced prominently in her Spring/Summer 1997 collection, 'Dress Meets Body, Body Meets Dress', has sought to draw fashion away from an objectification of the female body, to having a deeper respect for the wearer.  Many newspapers and critics at the time dismissed that collection as her "Quasimodo" collection (it is now usually referred to as her 'Lumps and Bumps' collection), and yet it has since been recognized as a dexterous exploration of the dialectic between body and dress, manipulating the way we view the female body and what is considered as beautiful.

In her seeking for a new understanding of the female body, Kawakubo also seeks to constantly redefine the present and what it means to be a woman today.  Indeed as she herself was quick to proclaim, "We must break away from conventional forms of dress for the new woman of today.  We need a new strong image, not a revisit to the past." (New York Times, 30th January 1983).  This disruption is symptomatic of her avant-garde design, a classification which in itself suggests an iconoclastic aesthetic that seeks to disrupt itself from popular culture.  In this respect her work disrupts itself quite clearly, both visually and intellectually, from popular high fashion.   Indeed for a designer who seeks to constantly rebel, and even refers to her company as the Comme des Garçons "army", this distinction is more than welcome.

Yet to find oneself labelled as part of the avant-garde is also to often find oneself summarily catergorized and thus easily dismissed.  Avant-garde is by definition applied to that which does not prescribe to the prevailing notions of beauty and the popular image of its time.  In an industry that is based upon appearances, this conscious attempt not to fit in can cause problems.  This is especially so when one of the main sectors in that industry is geared towards packaging design into neat little boxes of trends to be pushed upon consumers.  Whilst no designers wants to be simply part of the crowd, standing out too much can be a problem.   Take for example Olivier Theyskens, a designer recognized as genius, classified into a class of his own - the demi-couturier, and yet does not even work at a fashion house.     

Fashion tends to require classification and catergorization at every level - designers and fashions are grouped by decades, nations, the city they show in, some vague sense of a shared aesthetic, a shared trend, schooling background, predominant colour, materials, etc.  Consciously seeking not to be so easily defined is problematic for the gatekeepers who rely so heavily on being able to do so.  And so the term avant-garde comes into play.  It becomes a term to describe what is not easily marketable and what is not easily understood, and as such it becomes a term to be applied simply as an excuse not to have to understand.  Essentially, once it is classified, it does not need to be understood, for the label supposedly says all.  One sees Kawakubo's work being dismissed as avant-garde frippery, some genius outpouring that is nevertheless impractical for everyday wear, and it is a reaction I find confusing.

Speaking in I-D Magazine in May 1992, Kawakubo stated, "You don't have to talk to me, look at the clothes and then you see, you know me, what I want to say is there".  So why not look beyond the label of avant-garde, or weird, or strange, and look at the clothing?  For a designer who is usually defined by her treatment of the female body and feminine beauty, I am interested in her treatment of the male body and how her aesthetic is transferred across both the gender and sex divide.  By exploring the way in which she interacts with men's fashion, perhaps one is actually allowed a greater understanding of Kawakubo and her skills as a designer.

Given the constraints of my writing platform some broad study of Kawakubo's menswear is obviously impractical, so I would simply like to look ever so briefly at the themes within her current Homme Plus collection (Fall/Winter 2011), which I believe allow one a fascinating insight into Kawakubo's work.  To return to how I started this post, this collection is nothing if only a display of Kawakubo's post(or would that be neo?)modernism style at work.  The collection was a vision of a cultural apocalypse, quite dramatically highlighting the practice of bricolage in fashion.  In particular it highlighted fashion's tendency to create a new present through a process of broad transcultural and transhistorical referencing.  At the same time she treatment the male body as a site not for anxiety in this apocalypse, not requiring protection or armour, but as a site for celebration and a display of extravagance.    

In Dick Hebdige's seminal text, Subculture: The Meaning of Style, Hebdige used the anthropological concept of bricolage (in particular building upon Levi-Strauss' work in The Savage Mind) and applied it to the process of subcultural appropriation of commodities in order to apply new meanings to them.  One of the examples he gives is of mods "functioning as bricoleurs when they appropriated...[a] range of commodities by placing them in a symbolic ensemble which served to erase or subvert their original straight meanings" (p. 104).  The appropriation and subsequent subversion or resignification of cultural commodities is a practice we are all too familiar with in fashion.  A designer references a cut from one decade, combines it with a pattern from another decade, and uses it to present a finished article that is relevant to the present.  Other cultures and other times are simply part of the tools of creativity for fashion designers, however it is the way in which they combine these references to capture a feeling or thought that determines their final expression.

Kawakubo's collection piled reference upon reference atop each other, in an ostensibly unrestrained manner, highlighting in an almost visually aggressive manner the very process of fashion design.  I say aggressive due to the decadent and diverse nature of her bricolage, referencing Japanese heritage alongside Chinese print, or an American flag alongside Edwardian London.  And yet in this diverse referencing, Kawakubo also provided each of those individual references with an all new meaning for an all new present.  The extent of her transcultural and transhistorical referencing in singular looks alone, not only highlighted the practice of bricolage in fashion as a whole, but rather it seemed to foreshadow the extent to which the contemporary world is becoming ever more global in terms of culture.  It was a witty remark on the chaos of contemporary culture, finding in its apocalypse not a degradation of individual influences, but a celebration of its individual components.  Indeed, by placing contrasting references clearly alongside each other, it did not obliterate those references, but rather made them all the more apparent, and invested them with a new contemporary meaning.

In order to provide a new meaning, the commodities appropriated are never merely transplanted.  They need to be deconstructed, pulled apart, and applied in new ways in order to be relevant.  One does not simply replicate, otherwise a garment can become visually jarring and quite obviously anachronistic (a notable exception would perhaps be Margiela's Replica line).  The skill lies in making that reference relevant to the now (or at least the now that the designer wishes to conjure).  This translation was quite literally exposed by Kawakubo in her ostensible deconstruction of garments.  Vintage printed t-shirts were sewn together to provide elongated double printed t-shirts, or jackets were worn reversed allowing their patchwork printed linings to be exposed.  This construction, or deconstruction as it would be called, allowed Kawakubo to quite literally appropriate commodities from the past and entirely subvert and rewrite their meanings.  This is nowhere more apparent than in the use of logo printed t-shirts.  And yet this clear visual deconstruction is particularly distinct, for in its reclamation of the old, it did not destroy but rather recomposed.  Whereas the punks used an aesthetic pauperism, tearing and shredding garments to provide them with new meaning, Kawakubo tears the garments apart only to carefully reconstruct them to suit her new meaning.

In a world in which culture is increasingly global, and in which fashion continuously plunders various cultures and pasts (often its own), Kawakubo sees the end result not as a destruction of these elements, but as a celebration of diversity.  In light of a cultural apocalypse, the male body is not a site of anxiety or vulnerability, but rather the vessel for a display of decadent beauty.  In consciously allowing multiple references and commodities to be simultaneously displayed Kawakubo is not hiding behind the safety of conformity, here she is celebrating individuality in all its colours.  Pushed to the realm of the almost comic, and exaggerated in its display, there is no hiding, merely an acceptance of diversity.  And boy is it wearable.

(Thank you so very much for the kind words with regards to my last written post, it really did mean a lot)

111111



Muji alpaca sweater
Muji bio cotton long sleeve
Comme des Garçons H+ wool trousers
Uniqlo socks
Clarks Originals creepers

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

The Harlequin















"...a surreal and dreamlike vision takes a nightmareish twist..."

Clown
Fall/Winter 2009
Photographer: Nick Knight
Stylist: Panos Yiapanis
Model: Carmen Kass

In hospital.
Be right back.


xxxx