Call for Presentations

Proposal Due Date: May 15, 2012
FASHION: Now & Then
LIM College, New York, NY
Friday, October 19th 2012 to Sunday, October 21st 2012 www.limcollege.edu/fashionnowandthen

LIM College invites participation in the second annual symposium Fashion: Now & Then, a three day symposium at LIM College in which participants will discuss the past, present, and future uses of fashion information. The symposium consists of lectures and panel discussions, and participants will be drawn from the fashion industry, libraries, archives, academic institutions, publishers, and museums to represent a full range of expertise.

The 2012 Fashion: Now & Then symposium will include several themes about fashion and information including, but not limited to, discussion of the current models for dissemination of fashion information and the collection and preservation of fashion and related contextual information (a continuation of the 2011 Fashion: Now & Then theme). Additional areas of interest related to the subject of fashion and information include archives, blogs, books, collectors, collection development, designer archives, digital archives, digitization projects, rare books, fashion forecasting, fashion history, fashion studies, film, magazines, libraries, mapping & data visualization, merchandising, marketing, material culture, museums, new media, oral history, photography, preservation, print & non-print media, social media, retail, special collections, textiles, and trend reporting.

The event will take place in the LIM College Townhouse at 12 East 53rd Street between Fifth and Madison Avenues.

Presentation Proposals and Notification

Proposals for presentations should include: the title, name, affiliation, and email address of the author and an abstract of the 15 minute paper/presentation (<500 words). E-mail the proposal to proposals@limcollege.edu . Please submit the text of the proposal in the body of the e-mail and as a PDF or Word attachment. The proposal due date is May 15, 2012.

Notification of proposal acceptance will occur prior to July 1, 2012. Proceedings of the symposium will be published.

Dressing the models with the origami designs

In considering the theories that have been proposed with regards to the concept of the media event, there have been contentions, revisions, and additions made to the idea since its initial proposal by social scientist Daniel Dayan and sociologist Elihu Katz. What remains at the core is the bedazzling and captivating of an audience by some means of a disturbance in everyday life. The questions that one is quick to raise are one that asks what and how has the notion of the “media event” been transformed, and what complications have arisen since its inception?

Through investigating the initial postulation of what constitutes as the media event, followed by the considerations of the media spectacle, pseudo-events, and the “myth,” one becomes wary of the media event and the multiplicity that has trailed the term in subsequent years. Where does one manage to draw parallels with the present day is, perhaps, through the lens of fashion. Although tension can be found when lending the status of art to this particular discipline, one must recognize that the act of creation is nevertheless involved. The act of creating and “artistic exploration” varies from designer to designer, and brand to brand, which is the reason as to why this paper will not make sweeping generalizations about the industry itself, but rather, focus on one designer in particular – Dai Fujiwara[1], former creative director of Issey Miyake. Granted, some of the discussion will draw upon other designers and brands, as well as developments within the industry so as to illustrate the changing landscape of media event and spectacle as a whole.

Before broaching on the intertwined relationship of Fujiwara and the media event, one must define the term “media event.” And to do so, one can turn to Katz and Dayan who, in their 1985 article titled “Media Events: On The Experience of Not Being There,” consider the media event to be an interruption of the daily routine of life and broadcast schedule (308). To add a semantic layer to the term, the media event is also considered a means of telling a story of voluntarism and/or celebrating the heroic deed (308). The ways in which these “celebrations” take place are made discernable by the distinction of three specific forms: contest[2], conquest[3], and coronation[4]. Each of these forms carry a set of values; however, despite fixed characteristics, such as periodicity, odds, and roles of audience and presenter (307), one finds that the distinctions are not as clear, and are in fact much more flexible than the definition suggests. To draw upon common examples of media events, one could say that the Oscars demonstrates features that are both contest- and coronation-worthy. The label of contest is evident, as actors and movies “compete” with one another for the coveted golden statue, but the label of coronation is a little more nuances and micro. When an actor receives an Oscar, he or she is almost catapulted, in a sense, to an honorary status, which becomes evident in future productions and promotion with headlines such as “Award-winning actor/actress.”

With that said, there are certainly characteristics that are common to all three categories, and thus, are also common to media events in general. According to Katz and Dayan, they are as follows: live broadcasting, high drama/ritual, pre-planned/scheduled, are framed in time and space, and incorporation of personality. Thus, the media event is a live and constructed happening that holds to exaggeration as its means of signalling for attention to the audience. But by stating that the event must be framed in time and space, it is made clear that the media event is by no means “spontaneous” or “outside of the vernacular.”

Critical theorist Douglas Kellner, however, goes beyond Katz and Dayan’s “media event,” and instead elaborates on his own term, “media spectacle.” He considers this idea to refer to technologically mediated events, whether it is in the form of broadcasting, print media, or the Internet. Important to consider is that the media spectacle can also include media events that are often found in culture, as well as include that of “terror.” (78) In effect, one finds him or her reconciling the argument of the possibility of current events becoming a part of the “vernacular” and possibility of it being transitioned into a spectacle for the masses. That aside, the key element to the distinction between media spectacle and event is the consideration of scale and quality. Media spectacles, as Kellner asserts, are far more unpredictable, variable, and contestable to its media event counterpart. It would be fair to say that the media event is far more controlled and regulated, whereas the media spectacle, perhaps with intention of being controlled, has the potential to alter itself depending on its reception. In addition, the spectacle finds itself on a global scale, whereas the event finds itself entertaining the national scale, at best (80).

If the grouping of terms has led us thus far to cast “media event” under the umbrella of “media spectacle,” under what branch does the entity of spectacle fall? Rather, is there a specific category or word to describe what the spectacle truly is or is not?

It can be contested that to some degree, there most certainly is one. The pseudo-event, defined by Daniel J. Boorstein in his 1952 book The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America, is an event or activity that exists for the sole purpose of media publicity. Such an event is only considered “real” after being viewed through a technological medium, such as a broadcast, advertising, and television. The instances of pseudo-events that immediately come to mind include press conferences and entertainment news shows. Because the pseudo-event is otherwise noted as being hyper-sensualized, pre-planned, repeatable, and dramatic, it almost seems appropriate to ask if the pseudo-event is the desirable term to explain both the media event and spectacle. The contention that can be made against it being an umbrella term is the third stipulation [5]that Boorstein makes, which states it has the characteristic of ambiguity in relation to the underlying reality and thus asks, “whether it really happened.” (11) In the case of the Olympics, for example, the individual competitions most certainly did happen, and the subsequent question is the appropriate “what does it mean for x country?” The affirmation that the event has happened and the lack of questioning behind its falsity lies in the fact of the present audience that can be seen in the bleachers, as well as the live broadcasted coverage. Therefore, although the pseudo-event may come close to bridging itself as an umbrella term, it misses the act of being “real” by means of being “live.” However, it is not to say that the pseudo-event serves no purpose, as we will see in continuing the discussion on Fujiwara.

In considering the media event and spectacle, and pseudo-event, one can discuss the ways in which they situate themselves with the artistic work of Dai Fujiwara. Working from the most micro of scales in this perspective, one examines the interaction of the creative designer’s work and the media event. The premise for the media event in this regard is the bi-annual presentation of collections during Paris Fashion Week (i.e. fashion shows).  To categorize the event, one realizes Dayan and Katz’s firm distinctions to be problematic as the event falls into a mélange of the contest and conquest categories. In order to explicate the reasoning behind this mixed categorization, one looks to the terms of periodicity, participants, and odds, which seem to pose the most problems.

The contest regards the “frequency” of the media event to be fixed, which is most appropriate for this fashion show, given that “tradition[6]” dictates that the Issey Miyake brand presents on the last Friday of Paris Fashion Week at 11AM each season. However, the “participants” are more vague in this scenario, since the question is asked to whom exactly is the presentation shown. From an industry standpoint (and it remains so for Fujiwara’s work, which has never been broadcast live), the participants are “designer versus critics[7]” (man versus society), which reveals an attempt to win or woo the critics over. Of course, the contention can also be made that the media event is a contest, man versus man, in which designers throughout this entire week of collection showcases are trying to win over the critics for “best of show.” This particular viewpoint of man versus man, however, seems to be more so a compilation of media events, pitted against one another. In which case, it can be said that the sole media event may interact with others, so as to create a larger “event” in and of itself. At which point, one may be pose the question as to whether or not one can consider this “conglomeration” to be a spectacle, on account of its mass (if one were to consider the other “fashion weeks,” including those of New York, Milan, and London) and increased volatility due to the amount of variables (i.e. increased number of critics and designers) that have now been included. The consideration of the transition of media event to spectacle in this particular frame is one that is worth contemplating, but cannot be answered at this point in time without investigation of the participants and networks at play.

Apart from the “slotting into” categories, Fujiwara’s fashion shows are characteristic of the elements of media events presented by Katz and Dayan. The high energy and drama of the event is evoked with bright lighting, long rows of bleachers, and anxious anticipation from the audience, who often find themselves waiting more than a half hour before show begins, only to find that it quickly ends fifteen minutes after. And while the event does not create disturbance in everyone’s ritual, it most certainly does create a ripple in those within the industry, what with editors putting their schedules on pause to capture this one particular moment in time. Although the aforementioned seems to run clichés for most shows, the following is most certainly unique to Fujiwara. The consideration of the media event being subservient to the act of voluntarism and “heroic deeds,” Fujiwara constructs a story that is told. In essence, the story puts the collection’s/designs’ inspiration in the placeholder of “hero,” and carries the audience through the transitions by means of a rotation of models and creations. What becomes apparent is that there is not only the hero of the brand (i.e. the creative director), but also the hero of the show (i.e. inspiration), which renews itself time and time again each season. This multiplicity goes beyond the initial thoughts of Katz and Dayan, but most certainly is appropriate in considering the application of media event characteristics.

Considering that the Fujiwara’s work on display has been established as a media event, can one entertain the notion that it, too, is a spectacle? The elements of variability and unpredictability simply do not exist, on account of the purported myths behind the brand and designer.

With such a particularly visual work (as is the case for fashion), the encoding and decoding of symbols are especially present. French theorist Roland Barthes’ work on myths in “Myth Today” (from the book Mythologies) examines the use of myth as speech and its influence in politics. Barthes applies the notions of the “signifier” and “signified” to the simplest means of communication – linguistics. The more important takeaway from this text, however, is the highlighting of understanding that mythologies are formed and disseminated as a means to perpetuate the ideas of the ruling class and its media.

Reconciling this idea of Barthes’, one considers the meaning behind the collections designed by Fujiwara. Although it can be said the designs are his own, they are still representative of a brand at large; in other words, the clothing presented is simply a perpetuation of the myth of both the man [8]and the brand Issey Miyake.  That said, there is the possibility to present some extension oneself, however, one must realize that the constraints of the myth are in place and do not permit for great exploration.

Coming back to the question of Fujiwara’s work being a spectacle, one can say that with the given constraints of defending the perpetuated myth of what Issey Miyake represents, the work cannot be considered a spectacle by any means. However, the work may very well be considered to be a pseudo-event. Recalling that Boorstein’s pseudo-event makes use of similar elements as that of Katz’s and Dayan’s media event, such as the high level of drama, pre-planned event, and publicity generator, one notes that the showcasing of the collection also generates an air of the ambiguity, which Boorstein mandates for the pseudo-event. Considering that Fujiwara is perpetuating the myth of the brand, a person that is not in the complete context very well believe that the brand and designer are still heavily intertwined. It is to say that to the common audience, the question of “was it really Issey Miyake” is quite literal, as opposed to representative, which critics may ask in relation to work presented and identity sought to be maintained. Nevertheless, the pseudo-event can be seen in relation to the Barthes’ myth as the preservation of an ideology leads to questions of ambiguity.

The discussion thus far on media event and spectacle has led us to question the definition and the capacity to which the words envelope; however, we have to also interrogate the physical space that the event embodies in its viewing and experience before broaching the involvement of artists and culture, and their involvement with the media event.

In a 2007 article, New Yorker writer David Denby questions the loss of value in the spectacle what with the shift in media, and subsequently context. In spite of the fact that he speaks more so to the changed experience of movie viewing, such can be re-appropriated to fit the discussion of artists and their interaction with the media event.

The example that Denby highlights is that of “Brokeback Mountain” in which he notes the great differences between cinematic and home viewing. Watching the movie on a laptop, he explains, creates a skewed perception of what is “important” and “authentic.” To explicate, Denby discusses the example of the mountains in the movie, which when viewed in the theater are the foreground with their immensity in comparison to the characters; however, when viewed at home, the mountains’ presence is far diminished and the focus shifts solely to the characters. It is to say that the interpretation and experience have changed, in Denby’s opinion, due to the re-appropriation of media to fit the home context. Denby notes that this constant “modified” viewing of what “has been” proves to be problematic for future generations who are not aware of what was supposed to be and instead accept this “altered” version as the norm. Although he relegates the conversation back to cinema, one can see how behavioural change, such as this, can pose a problem for the media event.

It is at this point that one examines the recent surge of Internet platforms and technologies and reflects on how it has generated a sense of democratization of the runway. One has to deviate away from Fujiawara’s work and consider the more “commercial” designers, such as Christopher Baily of Burberry and Jill Stuart of her eponymous line, who stream their runway shows live for all to watch. The show itself is stripped of context, when viewed on a laptop or on a mobile device, in the sense of its meaning to the industry, as well as the reduction and alteration in focus, since the view is now dependent on the camera’s gaze, as opposed to a present audience member’s free gaze. To answer the question as to how people find themselves entertained with a media event that offers such “constraints,” one refers back to Katz and Dayan who recognize that the media event’s broadcasting renders everyone equal – present and distant audience. It is to say that the average person may find empowerment in being able to “see” what those in “prestigious” roles observe in an otherwise secretive and closed-door industry. Coming back to the issue on-hand, the effect of a stripped context in new technologies, one has to acknowledge that while the streaming brand receives publicity, the show becomes more of a spectacle than an event; in which case, there becomes a lack of control over the identity myth. The transition in to spectacle stems from the more global reach, afforded by the technological medium, as well as the unpredictability of reception and reaction by the now mass audience. In turn, the fashion show – in general – becomes a cyclical hybrid of spectacle and event; in spite of having discussed the transition to the spectacle, the show still remains an event on some fronts, including the periodicity and aspects of control in the physical sense. What one can perhaps offer as middle ground is that the digital space offers the opportunity for media spectacle, while the physical space clings onto what once was with the media event.

While the terms of media event, media spectacle, and pseudo-event seem so interchangeable, the subtle nuances give each term their own distinction, while still permitting for overlap. The examination of the interaction of media events and Fujiwara offer a complexity that is not usually apparent. The consideration that a designer hides behind a brand that is not his or her own gives way to the theoretical notion that the fashion show is a pseudo-event, on account of purporting myth and ambiguity. Fujiwara aside, the media event finds itself at odds with new media. In spite of the fact that the media event has been subjected to broadcasting and the Internet in the past, the surge in the use of online platforms, such as YouTube and Hulu, has created a culture that believes in shared general experiences, as opposed to specific and contextualized moments. Such change in behaviour may prove to be problematic as the new generation grows up to think that they are entitled to see, access, and absorb everything, despite having no expertise or context as to what is actually happening.

Footnotes

[1] Dai Fujiwara served as creative director at Issey Miyake from 2006 to 2011.

[2]  Contests are defined as live broadcasts of a ceremonial competition between matched individuals or teams with a set of predetermined rules, often with a referee and a live audience. Such can include the Olympics, presidential elections, and the Super Bowl (Katz and Dayan 306).

[3] Conquests are live broadcasts of “great steps for mankind” where the hero is considered to have crossed a forbidden frontier. Examples include the presidential inauguration and the Oscars (Katz and Dayan 306).

[4] Coronations are the rites of passage that honour the hero from one status to the next, thus confirming authority. For example, the funeral is considered a coronation (Katz and Dayan 306).

[5] Boorstein notes that the three characteristics of the pseudo-event are: 1) it is pre-planned; 2) it is planted for the purpose of being reported or reproduced; 3) its relation to the underlying reality of the situation is ambiguous. (11)

[6] Some designers are known to have shows that may be more flexible with regards to scheduling, but this specificity makes the brand more recognizable as a ritual.

[7] The use of the term “critic” refers to those in positions of press, whether they are editors, columnists, or bloggers.

[8] As of 1999, Issey Miayke officially turned over both men’s and women’s collection design so that he could return to research full-time.

Image courtesy of Girl à la Mode

LG Fashion Week Spring 2012; photograph by Jason Hargrove

It’s over. At least, for the most part. Another season has come and gone, and the trend reports of what is “in” for fall are now pouring out into style columns when we have only just begun to appreciate the spring weather. But that’s not what I find to be problematic these days within the industry. What I contend to be the greater issue on-hand finds itself in tandem with Toronto Star reporter David Graham’s recent article on the lost art of fashion criticism.

In his article, Graham outlines how fashion criticism has become an “endangered species” of sorts in recent years. He provides reason as to why reviews have been less than critical as of late. First, he notes that design houses have taken it upon themselves to bar journalists on account of negative reviews. Second, Graham raises the point that reduced print-media budgets have resulted in fewer fashion critics covering the shows, which has instead given way to contracted bloggers. The magazines are most certainly accounted for; the negative reviews are never noted on account of the complexities of business (i.e. advertising), and are instead replaced by omissions. So where does that lead us? Right to the bloggers, Graham says. He contends that bloggers neither have the training nor the expertise to lend, and therefore simply offer opinion. Graham also makes note of the bloggers that have bought into celebrity culture, being dressed by the designer, in exchange for gushing and enthusiastic coverage.

What immediately comes to mind after reading the article is the similarities that New Yorker writer David Denby spoke of with regards to the “Atlantis” effect of the cinema; to be more precise, he spoke of what may be considered the “past experience” of the movie viewing, but that is something that I will like to tackle in another post.

Coming back to the article, I can say, from the personal standpoint that I find myself having fallen into some degree of the “blogger” premise in my earlier years in the industry. Perhaps, in part, I was first indeed dazzled by the celebrity culture, but it immediately became clear to me that I had very little, if any, understanding what was going on. It is to say that I had no framework to reference, in terms of textiles, shapes, styles, and past collections from other designers. At best, I had an art history background, which meant that I could tease out the occasional reference and discuss how it was re-worked and interpreted. Apart from those moments, I had some inkling as to what was “good” and what was “bad,” but there was no firm ground upon which I stood during my first time at New York Fashion Week several years ago. And this is the problem with bloggers – the sole education for most of these “journalists” has been television, the Internet, and style magazines that make reference to certain aesthetics. At the end of the day, the same reactions that are applied toward those mediums are again applied in the actual industry’s context, and that is what Graham rightly calls “opinion.”

To like or dislike the items portrayed in magazines is a matter of taste; however, to approve or disapprove a collection requires so much more. The question of “why” must be asked and answered objectively,not with a snarky “because I said so.” But none of that seems to matter at the end of the day. Bloggers have become Yes (Wo)Men. I scroll through my Twitter feed for some of the recent shows that I attended and found to be dreadful, and was surprised to see the constant appraisal. The designers had either failed to push beyond after several looks or to present a collection that had pushed the boundaries of technical design and innovation; however, few expressed anything negative, and when they did, there was no elaboration on what was the reason. It is almost as though the industry, specifically in New York, has become the dichotomous “yes/no” situation.

Permit me to digress for a moment. For the most part, I’ve avoided putting up any reviews of any sort from the collections that I’ve seen in New York this past season. Part of the reason is that I haven’t bothered to retrieve the photographs from my camera; but the much more underscored reason is that very few, if any, of the shows that I managed to capture with my camera excited me. Especially after having seen a variety of collections and how they have been in shown in other cities, more specifically Berlin and Paris, I realize that there is much more than just the garments on the model.

There needs to be a story told, and New York, quite frankly, has lost a lot of that on account of not only its fast-paced culture, but also its constant desire to appeal to the masses. This notion of fashion as art is ruined in this city, and it simply seems to reiterate itself to me every season with both the collections and attendees.

Over the years, I’ve certainly become much more theoretical and critical in my approach. And although I still have a lot to learn with regards to the technical aspects of fashion, I have come a long way, having had grasped a better understanding of the cultural theories and history.

Is the issue a lack of education? Not really.

I have also been into the blog “culture” since the blossoming of fashion blogs, and have not seen many others develop in such a manner. So the question arises whether or not these peer bloggers will want to become educated on all fronts – textiles, critical thinking, history – or will the allure of minor celebrity culture always suffice. It pains me to be skeptical at this point, but I doubt that many will have the desire to want to be educated. In effect, there will be no revival of the fashion critic, but rather, it will remain the marginalized character that it has become, only to find itself handing the baton to the next in line every now and then. This is where I hope to be wrong.

Image courtesy of Flickr (user: Jason Hargrove)

Upon entering the Hong Kong Heritage Museum, the stairs are in full view

When I went to Hong Kong in late December/early January, I hadn’t planned any aspect of my itinerary until I actually got there. Taking a look at the Hong Kong tourism website, I came across an exhibit of interest at the Hong Kong Heritage Museum on Kowloon side – “Fashion Visionaries.” From the title, it would be easy to surmise that the exhibit would be showcasing the work of iconic and up-and-coming fashion designers of Hong Kong. The depth of the exhibition, though, wasn’t made entirely clear as to whether it would encompass several themes or a mere hall.

The noting of the exhibition being curated by the Hong Kong Fashion Designers Association (HKFDA) piques some interest, as it would only be intriguing to see their particular aesthetic. Unfortunately, I cannot say that I was too pleased with the results. The presentation of the up-and-coming designers, which happens to be the first room when entering the exhibit is over-the-top. While the presentation aspect may seem neat what with the fractional glass, the sharp lighting and plethora of pieces make it difficult to really absorb, let alone appreciate, anything.

After meandering through this portion, one finds him- or herself in front of a great display in which a project displays models walking onto the stage, dressed on the garments which are on display to the right. Though some of the pieces show some innovation and interesting concepts, the projection is far more interesting than the clothes. The gowns in the subsequent room demonstrate excellent tailoring, with some of the taste being questionable.

The second-to-last large display (not counting the fashion photographer interlude that intercedes this section and the next) is one that I thoroughly enjoyed. The designs were much more daring, but are done with such careful editing that it can win over even the more critical audiences. The fashion photography section, though short, was a great highlight for me on account of the fact that we seldom see any tribute paid to the photographers themselves and their contribution to this particular field.

Entering the last leg of the exhibit, the tone is aptly set to that of a spectacle. Highlighting the work of renowned costume designers, pieces from films and performances are put on display for the viewer to catch a glimpse up close.

Overall, the exhibit is a tad underwhelming with its non-cohesive presentation style and lack of editing. That said, there were the impressive elements, found more so at the end of the exhibit than at the beginning. In any case, it is most certainly an exhibit worth taking a look since it is located amongst several other great exhibits at the museum and the relatively low ticket price of 5 HKD (for students).

The exhibit runs until March 12th.

First looks of the exhibit

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 'Fashion Visionaries'

This section focused on celebrating well-established costume designers

Example of costume design; gown was used in actual musical performance

Before discussing this constructed archive, one must acknowledge the notes already made on fashion photography by French theorist Roland Barthes. Proposed in “Fashion Photography,” an appendix to the 1967 work The Fashion System, Barthes posts that within fashion photography, there are three key styles – objective, romantic, and mockery [1]. With regards to this particular set of images, it can be said that, as an overarching theme threading these photographs together, that this archive exhibits qualities of objectivity and mockery. To exemplify, we can take a look at Figures 3 and 8 – each representative of their respective editorial – which illustrate the lifestyle of those in poverty. In depicting life in poverty in India and scene of metropolitan homelessness we can sense that there is indeed an air of literalness in what is shown. To pinpoint what exactly is so “literal” or convincing, each photograph articulates a different sense of the “objective.” Figure 3, for instance, focuses more so on the essence of human subjects, and the environment that envelops them. In photographing the “slums” and its inhabitants, the viewer cannot deny that there is a literalness presented in the photograph. Figure 8 presents neither the environment nor “real people” that Figure 3 has in its depiction of the literal. Instead, Figure 8 utilizes emotion to convey a literal portrayal. The contrived distress speaks to the studium [2], which asks the audience to put this emotion in the context of the Western sphere in association with the construction of the image. In effect, we can surmise that because “homelessness is shameful” and “one would be distressed if this happened to them,” [3] and it is applicable in the photograph, it can be considered literal because of the Western context and understanding.

Figure 8. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. (http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

However, in this “literal” depiction of poverty, there is also the condition of mockery, which is distinctly present by depiction of the model. It is rather apparent, based on studium [4], that the model does not belong to this particular literal interpretation, but is rather, impinging by inserting herself into the image and mimicking the “look,” but with a more luxurious spin. In effect, the photographs’ status as only “objective” faces a challenge. This interjection of the model presents a quality of pastiche [5] in the photographs.  As a result, while there is semblance of literalness portrayed in the photographs, the objectivity is subverted to some extent by the main subject herself.

In questioning the identity of the fashion photograph, the archive itself can also be called into question. According to French philosopher Paul Ricoeur in his 1978 essay “Archives, Documents, Traces,” an archive is comprised of three main characteristics; reference to a notion of a document or record, relationship to an institution, and action of putting documents produced by an institution into an archive by means of deciding between discarding and preservation. It is to say that the archive is an organized body of documents. We can draw correlations between this particular archive and the latter two of the characteristics that Ricoeur posits; a relationship to an institution is similar to the photographs having relation to Flair or Antidote Magazine, which serve as an institution, and the decision as to what goes in and out of the archive is dictated by an authority, much like the magazine’s editors. However, the question as to whether they are or are not records is one that begs for further interrogation.

In examining these photographs, it becomes seemingly impossible not to ask what validity an image holds as a document.  It is to say that by looking at Figures 4 and 10, for instance, can we say that what is portrayed is in fact truth in its entirety? Is this how the impoverished really behave and dress? Ricoeur postulates that records or documents have a particular sense of objectivity, whereas monuments are carry a particular context that serve as commemoration, and have been demystified in meaning (68). This stipulation with regards to photographs being records, and records being a part of the archive, can perhaps be salvaged with the argument that Ricoeur means for the document to function as a trace left by the past (68). Where snapshots, traditional portraiture, documentary photograph explicitly capture “what has been,” fashion photography seems to capture “what should be.” That is not to say that these photographs do not belong in an archive; they can be considered to be a record of truths, in terms of viewpoints and beliefs.

This archive, in some sense, shares some characteristics with National Geographic. New York Times art critic Andy Grundberg comments on the photographs in his 1988 essay “Decoding National Geographic” with the following words:

“represent[ing] the apotheosis of the picturesque… embody[ing] many of the same conventions of colour and form as plein air painting. They aim to please the eye, not to rattle it. As a result of their naturalism and apparent effortlessness, they have the capacity to lull us into believing that they are evidence of an impartial uninflected point of view.” (Grundberg 175)

Because of the affiliation with an institution, there is bound to be a particular likeness in censorship. While we see that National Geographic illustrates a “softer” reality for aesthetic purposes, we find that these two fashion magazines – Flair and Antidote Magazine – have opted for a particular photographic “look” so as to capture, but not disgust, their audiences. There is a particular forwardness, but it is subdued by a more muted colour palette and lack of explicitness. While Figure 6 is depicted in black and white, the destitute village is almost etherealized by the stark contrast in lighting. In creating more lights than darks, there is a certain added brightness to the quality of the image. Though the people featured are evidently poor, they are not shown in the worst of conditions. It is to say that the photographer and institution exposes the viewer to some degree of “shock” so as to garner the needed attention, but mitigates the shock with a “not as severe” poverty as depicted here. Figure 7, however, delivers an image that is more destitute than Figure 6. The direr situation of a crowded household is lessened by the rich blue background that overtakes the image. The other vivid colours featured and the somewhat slanted framing add a curiosity that intrigues the viewer in such a way that they do not seek to ask many questions upon first glance.  The darkest figure of the photograph, like Figure 6, is the model. By shedding lightness on the impoverished and darkness on the luxurious, the “shock value” is balanced and the photograph can be deemed aesthetically appropriate. Where National Geographic has more control in the selection of its shots, this archive makes use of lighting and indeterminate situations for its depictions of poverty.

In referencing professor and writer James Polchin’s essay “Not Looking at Lynching Photographs,” we realize that images can infer different notions of truth and reality, simply by the context of the viewer. Polchin articulates that lynching photographs could be perceived to be as positive memorable tokens for the Southern whites, whereas the photographs, in a more negative light, could be deemed as warnings to northern blacks that such a future could arrive. Similarly, the derived meaning(s) of these fashion photographs are multiple.

On one hand, we could say that the message is to sell luxury in an artistic portrayal, whereas on another hand, we can say that it is a commentary of what we have and what they do not have. Instead of commenting on “what has been,” as Barthes would say, the photographs are commenting on “what is.” It is to say that these photographs do not capture a particular past, but rather a particular and current ideology or thought of what we perceive to be the definition of poverty. The inference of what to be the photographic message bases itself on the context of not only the archive, but also on the lens by which the viewer looks at these photographs. Coming back to the idea of photographic truth, it can be said that the “truth” in this archive’s collection is the particular understanding or viewpoint that is held on what the photographer and institution believe to be “poor.” From a commercial standpoint, the archive holds little meaning apart from “pretty images,” whereas from a theoretical standpoint, it poses representational and framing problems, which we will examine.

According to Barthes, photographs are “violent” (1979: 94). They are not necessarily violent because of their subjects, but are violent because their nature. What is meant by the aforementioned is that photographs give viewers no choice in what is displayed and seen. It is to say that the subject and its framing force a sort of confrontation with the viewer. Figures 1, 2, and 11 demonstrate this sort of violence, in which the spectator cannot help but be subjected to what the photographer has set as the boundaries of viewing. Even if the audience wants to see beyond the photograph, to grasp hold of the larger context on-hand, it isn’t possible. The close and intimate shot of Figure 11 leaves little context for the viewer; there is no indication of an actual location, rather, the only indication of anything is the subject and the immediate environment constructed for the purposes of the photograph. This sense of “homelessness” is forced upon the viewer with our gaze directed to the model, who in turn directs our gaze with hers onto the heap of clothing adjacent to her. The violence in the photograph in this particular case not only lies in the deliberate framing, but also in the fierce directing that takes place in shifting our gaze onto an intended object.

Figure 11. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Figures 1 and 2 speak to a different tone of violence, as they do not fully eclipse all possible contexts. Both photographs depict the impoverished environments to fuller extents than Figure 11 by showing glimpses of buildings and roads, along with people. With that said, however, it can be noted that Figure 1’s framing lends to a more closed scene with children flanking the model on both sides, in addition to background filled with more children and urbanity, whereas Figure 2’s framing lends to a more-open ended approach, what with its open and less populated roads, which in turn permits the viewer to believe that there is more beyond this photograph to be investigated. Such a perception aids in mitigating the violence of the photograph’s presence by lending an air of possibility to the viewer. As can be seen from both of these photographs, the violence isn’t in the subject’s gaze, which directs the viewer, but rather, the richness of context delivered in a fixed space.

Of these three photographs, there can be said to be two results. The first being that photographs, in their violence, cannot only force a particular scene onto us, but also direct our gaze exactly to a particular point. The second result being that with a particular open-endedness forced onto us by the photograph, there is a desire to find what is “outside” of it. However, in order to do so, we look deeper into the image in search of particular nuances that would aid and lead us onto this path “outside” of the photograph. In a sense, this search for “what may be there” can be likened to the work of schools Marianne Hirsch and Leo Spitzer in their article “Incongruous Images: Before, During, and After The Holocaust.” While the subject matter is clearly different, the desire to look past the photograph based on something specific to the image (in their case, the gold star) is similar. But because Hirsch and Spitzer look to the identifying of what are icons in a particular moment and time, they are successful in defining what it is they are in search of, whereas there is no particular object that denotes a particular status or meaning. It is to say that there are no (universal) image-icons that relate to poverty.

Building on the concept of image-icons and identification, we must discuss the notion of absent memories, but in a frame that is varied from what has been proposed by scholar and author Marita Sturken, who articulates that society relies on photography to remember events and circumstances, and without proper image-icons, we lack a sense of “what has been,” and hence find there to be an “absent memory.” Instead, what we find is that in the contemporary, our absent memory isn’t of a historical event, but of a time and place in the “now” that does not directly coincide with ours. There is no image-icon associated with the present or the ongoing, or rather, the “insignificant [6].” Because there is no particular or direct association with the idea of poverty, we find that we are more apt to accepting the images as they are, and do not question their “validity” in representation of a particular economic climate. The mentality, in this case, because there are no image-icons to base ideas upon is that “it looks about right from what we have heard from media, so we will accept it.”

Coming back to Barthes, we recall that the punctum is what pricks or disturbs us most about a photograph. It may be immediately evident, or it may not. This archive, in general, and more specifically Figure 9, speaks in a way that explicitly denotes the out-of-place model not to be the punctum, but rather, her attempt at “fitting in” into the scene. It can be said that the punctum [7] in this case relies on the notion of postmemory. However, this notion of the postmemory [8] differs from what the usual definition in this case; given that the photographs in this archive are constructed, or rather, staged, they do not possess the same “after-event” with which we are familiar. For instance, if we were to take Figure 9 and consider it to be “truthful” and “authentic,” we would be more apt to say the photographer was capturing a desperate moment with regards to the subject and her state of starvation – but we know better. This image is far from being reflective of authenticity, and purports instead a sense of falsehood. This notion of falsehood stems from the fact that the model does not belong in this particular world; she is merely playing a role that would make her appear to be a part of the impoverished.  To put it more succinctly, we acknowledge that the subject exits this constructed cadre and re-enters reality, and lives a life (most likely contradictory to what has been portrayed). In effect, the usual sense of postmemory is subverted because it does not negotiate the knowledge dependent on a temporal distance, but rather knowledge dependent on the distance between portrayal and reality. Apart from recognizing the punctum to be concentrated on this idea of a redefined postmemory, there are subtleties of a secondary punctum dealing with a more traditional postmemory.

Figure 9. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Drawing upon Figure 5, we notice that the model is the main feature of the photograph; however, those that are around her elicit more interesting questions. To ask who these people are and what they do almost seems irrelevant as the context that is provided for us (i.e. poverty in India) overrides the desire to know “what has been” and focus on the postmemory, or rather, “what may be.” Postmemory and studium dictate that these economic situations do not bode well for what we hope to be “happy endings.” Instead, postmemory and studium dictate that this family will likely encounter more hardships.

So what can be said of all of this? There is a particular objectification, but not by means of usual lenses of race or gender. Instead, we find the division to be that of class, and therefore add a tertiary dimension to British political scientist Timothy Mitchell, who in his essay “Orientalism and Exhibitionary Order,” refers to a system in which the “Other” is put on display, resulting in the exotic commodification of native artifacts or traditions for the hegemonic gaze (i.e. that belonging to the white man). Traditionally, notion of the “Other” often finds itself belonging to at least one of two demographic groups: one that differs from the hegemonic culture (i.e. a foreigner), and one opposite the “dominant”[9] gender (i.e. the woman). However, the argument can be made that the Other is found to be the “poor.” Belonging to neither gender nor ethnicity, this Other is far more ambiguous in its describable presence, but its feeling of unease and mounting on display is all the same.

To explicate, we can take into account Figures 4 and 10. The framing of the photograph not only puts the model on display, but also the “unusualness” of it all. Figure 10 creates the disjunction between luxury and poverty by means of fashioning the model as what can be recognized in popular culture as a “hobo.” In doing so, the focus and how the model presents herself is given focus. In effect, the model and her accompanying presence are put on display. What makes this particular photograph hard to characterize as a representation of exhibitionary order is the subtle qualities that are drawn from studium and the fact that both model and Other are heavily intertwined.

Figure 10. Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. ( http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

However, in Figure 4, the Other and model are better separated, allowing for the viewer to better distinguish the two. Even though the model makes some attempt to blend into the photo, the other subjects stand out. The unfamiliarity of these faces and awkward stances signal to the viewer that they must be looked at, but in a different lens. The argument of ethnicity could be made; however, there is something much more compelling, in part because of the backdrop, and that is the economic status. The contrast between the model and the boys is quite stark. Even though thinness is revered as an ethereal quality for women, it is not so much so for men. In addition, their stance is not complimentary to their figures, which merely accentuates their boniness and malnourishment. Skin colour does lend to the fact that it does create a stark contrast between the model and the boys, which creates in turn creates a secondary focus, comparing what the model has and what the rest of the image does not.

Overall, it can be surmised that fashion photography subverts the traditional notions of postmemory, photographic truth, and exhibitionary order, re-appropriating them in a lens that is particular to the theme. In this case, postmemory and photographic truth both find issue with fashion photography due to the fact that these two aspects rely on some tie to temporal distance and logic. However, fashion photography, and this archive, in particular, do not abide by such, and instead lay importance in the construction of the image. And with that, we find that there is a stronger adherence to Ricoeur’s stipulations for the definition of the archive and the “softening” of subject matter so as to attract and keep audiences. Furthermore, this archive finds itself in ambiguity on photographic meaning; already we conceded that there is a multiplicity of meanings that a photograph may hold, though we continue to look into the image for “what may be there.” In effect, we see that there are shared traits with historical photography, however, we have to realize that with Holocaust photography, for instance, there are image-icons that can propose significance, whereas this particular archive has no historical context nor does it treat a subject that is encapsulated in memory. It is not to say that poverty is insignificant, but rather, it is something that does not have a particular moment to be captured in or defined by; poverty is ongoing. And because there are no markers of poverty as a event not to be talked about, fashion photography may simply re-appropriate it as a form of engagement by means of “controversial” editorial.

Works Cited

Barthes, Roland. The Fashion System. University of California Press, 1983. Print.

—. Camera Lucida. 1979. Hill and Wang, 2010. Print.

Campos, Jean-François. 2007. Flair. (http://jeanfrancoiscampos.com/?p=183)

Grundberg, Andy. “Decoding National Geographic.” Crisis of the Real: Writings on Photography since 1974. Aperture, 1990. Print.

Hirsch, Marianne, and Leo Spitzer. “Incongruous Images: “Before, During, and After” The Holocaust.” History and Theory 48 (2009): 9-25. Print.

Mitchell, Timothy. “Orientalism and the Exhibitionary Order.” The Visual Culture Reader. Ed. Mirzoeff, N.: Routledge, 2002. Print.

Polchin, James. “Not Looking at Lynching Photographs.” The Image and the Witness. Eds. Hallas, Roger and Frances Guerin. New York: Wallflower Press, 2007. Print.

Ricoeur, Paul. “Archives, Documents, Traces.” Inscriptions. 1978. Print.

Sekula, Allan. “The Body and the Archive.” October 39 Winter (1986): 3-64. Print.

Sgura, Giampaolo Lost in Translation. 2011. Antidote Magazine. (http://models.com/work/antidote-magazine-lost-in-translation/viewAll)

Sturken, Marita. “Absent Images of Memory: Remembering and Reenacting the Japanese Internment.” Positions 5 3 (1997). Print.

Alexander McQueen armour studded shoes

When I went to see the “Sporting Life” exhibition at the Museum at FIT over a month ago, I couldn’t but kill two birds with one stone and head towards the lower level afterwards to take a walk through the Daphne Guinness exhibition.

The lower level doesn’t lead directly into the exhibit. Outside of the viewing room is an empty display with a view of sorts – particular mementos and pieces. As I reflect now, it could very well have been the “accessories” portion of the exhibit, though it wasn’t well labeled. The confusion as to where the rest of the exhibit is is quickly diffused as I watch others bumble around, looking for the doors that will permit them into the world of Daphne Guinness.

Granted, the exhibition space isn’t that large; however, in such a limited space, it is rather incredible how Valerie Steele, director and chief curator, along with Guinness herself delivered the volume of content that was made available, while being sure not to overwhelm the viewer. The clothes are beautifully modeled on mannequins that pose atop raised platforms. A walkway is left empty in the middle so as to permit traversing between the seven themes that emerge from the side of the room.

Like the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Met, the separation in themes – armor, chic, dandyism, evening chic, exoticism, sparkle, and accessories – leads to a different world with each small step. Each theme begins with a quote from Guinness on what interests her about this particular theme, and each collection seems to have at least one particular (sometimes custom made) masterpiece that draws the viewer in; of course, that is subjective, much like the punctum of any photograph (as French theorist Roland Barthes would say). And projected on the walls of both ends are short films of Guinness’, which add to the allure and mystique of the fashionable icon.

I went in with little expectation, but was thoroughly impressed, though the exhibition certainly had notes that were similar to the McQueen exhibit. That said, it wasn’t necessarily a direct port, but rather its own with some similarities.

For those still interested, the exhibition is free and runs until January 7th, 2012.

Daphne Guinness exhibit

Daphne Guinness exhibit

Daphne Guinness exhibit

Alexander McQueen resin and leather sandals

Dandyism

Images courtesy of fitnyc.edu, Jesenia’s Goodie bag Blog, Washington Square News

Calfnet cape (veal)

Several months ago, I came across this interesting link about chef Roland Trettl’s 2008 collaboration, titled Fashion Food, with photographer Helge Kirchberger. However, the article’s focus wasn’t on the book itself, but rather, on the new photographs of a similar theme taken for the current exhibition at the Museum für Kommunikation in Berlin, which runs until 29 January.

While the concept of fashion and food working together isn’t particularly new, the photographs here illustrate a sort of haute and genuine character. Where we’ve often seen food and fashion work on equal levels, in terms of what is on display and is the main attraction, food plays a much different role in this instance. In many of the photographs, it seems as though food becomes a textile in itself, and therefore subservient to fashion. I make this assertion because of some of the subtle and inconclusive textiles in play – is it really food? Or is it simply like food, but still an actual fabric? These questions don’t arise in other photograph sets that meld fashion and food together.

Why are we so fascinated with food and fashion, though? Perhaps we can relegate it to the Norman Lear Center’s deputy director Johanna Blakely’s blog entry on the lack of copyright in both areas. Although our definition of “copyright” can often be seen as applicable in cases of creation, we see that it refuses to apply itself in both of these cases on account that they are considered “utilitarian” and not “creative.” Do these photographs not demonstrate that it is possible for both to transcend their utilitarian qualities in the most abstract of ways? I would like to think so, though I then come across the complication of fashion and food intersecting photography, which in its own right is copyrighted (because it is considered “creative”). In effect, can we only find copyright to be a possibility when it is “fastened down” in time?

Chocolate Fountaine and Merluza (top: hake skin; scarf: wakame algae; earring: calamari head)

Dos (cloaks: seppia pasta dough; neckband: jackfruit peel) and Transformacion (cloak: sepia skin; necklace: char skin; top: black pasta dough)

Love Pearls

Miss Saigon

Sep Mermaid (suit: nori alage; belt & bracelet: char skin; earring: aubergine; scarf: 'sea spaghetti' algae) and Nori Woman Calm (suit: nori leaves; scarf: octopus; earring: red mullet)

Images courtesy of Fine Dining Lovers

Christian Lacroix, beachwear ensemble, multicolor nylon/spandex, silk, metallic synthetic straw, plastic, metallic leather, 1990, France.

Though the exhibit finished its five month run last month, I thought it would still be worthwhile to discuss the Museum at Fashion Institute of Technology’s presentation on active wear from the mid-19th century to modern day. Titled Sporting Life,the exhibit featured over 100 garments, textiles, and accessories from the Museum’s permanent collection. Thematically divided, the exhibit was concentrated in the areas of hunting, sailing, swimming, golfing, skating, and other activities.

The introductory gallery dedicates itself to exercise and dance, perhaps the simplest in sporting activities. Interesting to note here is the blurred line between fashion and active wear, what with the displayed sportswear carrying elements of both. Progressing through the rest of the themes, this blurred line wasn’t as emphasized as before, with some pieces leaning more towards the practicality of it all, instead of fashion. That said, there were the occasional pieces, such as the bathing suits, that still fell into that gray area. Each piece had its informative placard, providing context, date, and significance.

Despite the fact that it was said to be divided by theme, the different parts of the exhibit were separated merely by a wall, twist of corridor, or simply placement. One theme could be placed on one side, and another on the opposite. Coming back to the “learning experience,” the cards were certainly informative, but almost overwhelming. With information on over 100 pieces, a guest cannot stand to absorb all of it in the small space that houses the exhibit. Should the presentation have been more spread out or even edited a little more, the experience would’ve been as informative.

Exiting the exhibit also posed a problem; leaving the last theme, one enters a corridor that actually introduces you to a completely different exhibit (one highlighting senior students’ work) without providing the guest any context until a couple of steps in. This failure of ending the experience doesn’t leave the exhibit on as high a note as it could.

To sum, it can be said that the exhibit is certainly well-curated and informative, but needs more space to spread out its ideas and to appear less overwhelming.

Gym suit, blue cotton twill, 1896, USA.

Norma Kamali, tunic and knickers, gray cotton knit, 1981, USA, gift of Oscar de la Renta.

Haas Brothers, two-piece dress, red and white cotton, circa 1894, USA.

Images courtesy of Museum at FIT

Exhibitionary Order in Fashion Photography

The concept of the “exhibitionary order,” as postulated by British political scientist Timothy Mitchell in the essay “Orientalism and Exhibitionary Order,” is one that refers to a system in which the “Other” is put on display, resulting in the exotic commodification of native artifacts or traditions for the hegemonic gaze (i.e. that belonging to the white man). This notion of the “Other” often finds itself belonging to at least one of two demographic groups: one that differs from the hegemonic culture (i.e. a foreigner), and one opposite the “dominant”[1] gender (i.e. the woman). The notion of exhibitionary order can be explained, or rather exemplified, through the lens of contemporary fashion photography. The photographs examined in this particular archive, collectively and individually, deliver the idea of exhibitionary order through means of not only objectifying the native artifacts, such as clothing and atmosphere, but also by objectifying skin colour itself. It is to say that blackface[2], which involves the transformation of race through physical means, serves as another, but more extreme, way of re-appropriating racial differences for the white man’s gaze.

Delving into the archive, one notes that Figures 1 and 2 present Dutch model Lara Stone in blackface; Steven Klein took the photographs for the October 2009 issue of French Vogue. While the concept of the foreigner being the Other is often thought of, one must also recall the notion of the Other as being “she.” In all of the photographs of this particular archive, the represented gender is the female. Relating to Barthes’ ideas as presented in Camera Lucida, one comes back to the notion that the subject always is transformed into the object within a photograph (13). More explicitly, the “[p]hotograph is the advent of [himself or herself] as other, a cunning dissociation of consciousness from identity.” (Barthes 12) What can be remarked upon or drawn from this objectification of women is what becomes of it – it in turn lends to the new object’s codification befitting the male gaze – one which embraces the woman as sexuality, sensuality, softness, etc.

Referring to both Klein photographs, one not only sees the exhibitionary order of the Orient, in which they are set up by Westerners to be viewed as an “endless exhibition,” (Mitchell 496) but also that of the woman with her suggestive posing. Figure 1 illustrates Stone with stoic expression and overt sexual demeanour what with her legs widely spread about. There is in a sense the loss of the Western femininity, which relies on timidity and complacence, this Other permits in some sense the objectification of the woman, since one can say that she is not a woman of “our” society, in that she doubles also as the foreign Other, and thus can communicate an overt sexuality without being deemed sexist.

What can be immediately noted about the presentation of blackface with Stone is that it communicates a different means of objectification. As opposed to only objectifying clothing and surroundings, the notion of skin colour, too, has become an object. In utilizing the white woman to represent the Other, there is the notion that the Other is fully a Western construct. It is to say that there is no “real” authenticity in this image; skin colour is now also communicated as part of the display, and not a truth or fact.

Figure 1. Steven Klein, Vogue Paris, October 2009; Accessed Oct 14, 2011 from Models.com (http://models.com/work/vogue-paris-lara-8)

Figure 2. Steven Klein, Vogue Paris, October 2009; Accessed Oct 14, 2011 from Coûte Que Coûte (http://coutequecoute.blogspot.com/2009/10/vogue-paris-october-2009-lara-stone.html).

In dealing with the notion of objectifying the Other, one may pose the question, “can the Other objectify his or herself?” And in some facets, the answer is “yes.”  Figures 3 and 4 deal with such a concept, in which singer/actress Beyoncé Knowles, who is identified as black (“Beyoncé Knowles – Biography”), assumes blackface for an editorial shoot[3] by Mark Pillai for French magazine L’Officiel.  Knowles articulates that the photo-shoot was a means of honouring Nigerian musician Fela Kuti (Steinmetz). What can be said of this tribute is that Knowles, despite being an Other[4], is partaking in the transforming of the African Other[5], objectifying and codifying it in such a manner so that it becomes readable for the Western culture in which Knowles is perceived to be the Other.

As a means of reinforcing the idea of the African Other, and not the Western Other (in which Knowles is recognized as), one may be quick to point out that Figure 3 introduces a complement. This complement articulates the qualities with which one may associate with Africa in general – such as vibrant colours and African animals[6] – based on acquired culture and knowledge via media in various forms. Figure 4, however, draws the viewer in by adding to the blackface that represents the African Other via the strong gaze and bright tribal marks. The gaze is one that is connotative of bewilderment, almost questioning the viewer as to what he or she is doing by imposing on this cultural sphere. It is seemingly almost a challenge to the objectification and commodification of the Other; however, coming back to Barthes’ notion of the photograph being violent, one acknowledges that “in it nothing can be refused or transformed” (91). Therefore, it can be said that the gaze merely puts distance between viewer and the recognizable Western iconography (that being celebrity, with Knowles).

More interestingly, though, is the partial blackface in both of these photographs.  More exemplary in Figure 3, the contrast between the two skin tones is quite apparent with only Knowles’ face transformed into the African Other, while the rest of her body remains untouched. What can be posited is that there is an intersection of two exhibitionary orders within the photograph, and thus creating a particular tension and discourse. This intersection deals with the African Other that is heavily portrayed by its complements, and the Western Other to which Knowles belongs. On one side, skin colour is objectified through an active transformation, and on the other, it remains untouched so as to say that that she too is an Other, in her own culture, and that it should be recognized, therefore, part of her “air” is to be seen.

In addition, this objectification of culture strips the represented of any identity. In the four photographs examined so far, the only “fact” that we can ascertain is that these images are about the Orient. There is no particular culture or ethnicity being communicated in and associated with any of these photographs[7] – it is to say that this transformation of the Other from subject into object for the white gaze has resulted in an aggregate and anonymous identity. In other words, everyone and anyone befitting certain clothes will be lumped in into the Orient sphere.

Figure 3. Mark Pillai, African Queen, L’Officiel Paris, March 2011; Accessed Oct 14, 2011 from Models.com (http: //models.com/work/lofficiel-beyonce-african-queen/48828)

Figure 4. Mark Pillai, African Queen, L’Officiel Paris, March 2011; Accessed Oct 14, 2011 from Models.com (http: //models.com/work/lofficiel-beyonce-african-queen/48828)

The last image, the only one with a title denoting a particular ethnicity or culture, draws upon the Orientalism and allure of Morocco. The idea of Orientalism in itself is comprised of three aspects – “unchanging racial or cultural essences,” otherness, and “a series of fundamental absences (of movement, reason, order, meaning and so on).” (Mitchell 495) The representation of the Moroccan dream is what we – the Western society – would prefer to view it as, and not its actual reality. In fashion photography especially, it can be said there is truly is the commodification of exotic objects (in this case garb) for the white man’s gaze.

To explain, the clothing depicted here does not belong physically to the orient, only the idea or “inspiration” holds a tie to the ethnic body. The white man’s gaze makes reference to these items as exotic, yet familiar because of there is no deep elaboration, merely an extrication of the essence of the culture. And perhaps what signals to the viewer that these clothes are for the hegemonic culture and not the Other, more so in this photograph than the others, is the fact that model (Sasha Pivovarova) is wearing what appears to be a rather revealing swimsuit. Drawing from the general culture/knowledge, the average viewer can quickly surmise that this revealing piece does not belong to the Other, but that rather, this piece is being imposed on the Other.

In any case, the argument for the objectification of skin colour (via blackface) in this particular photograph is not as clear as Figures 1 through 4. Granted, the literal idea is not exemplified in this case, but rather is modified – Pivovarova’s skin tone is green. However, what should be more importantly noted is the deliberate move to “otherize” the model as best as one can, creating a distance or absence of logic and reason between the Western world and the one being portrayed. The clothing no longer separates the Western world from this foreign land much, because of the fact that it is commercially available in the Western sphere, and thus loses its power as an exotic allusion. Skin colour, although objectified, is not commodified, which allows for one to add to this continued display of exoticism and the Other.

Figure 5. Steven Meisel, Moroccan Holiday, Vogue Italia, May 2009; Accessed Oct 14, 2011 from Models.com (http: //models.com/work/vogue-italia-moroccan-holiday)

In examining this archive arises the question as to whether or not it is honorific or repressive. This dichotomy in traits brings us back to The Body and The Archive by Alan Sekula, who in 1986, comments on the system of representation being capable of functioning both honourifically and repressively[8] (Sekula 5-7). Admittedly, such can be difficult to discern within an archive that objectifies both women and the Other. That said, the qualities of repression are evident in these photographs; the objectification of skin colour, and therefore distancing of race from Western culture, the repression of the woman by transforming her into a sexual viewing object through the male gaze, and the reduction of the Other into nothing more than an exhibit. However, with the archive, one must also recall that according to Sekula, the archive is fluid, meaning that its values are neither fixed nor are they static.

It can be argued that there is a valorization within the photographs, enabling the argument that there are honorific qualities to this archive. Perhaps the strongest argument can be found in the regard that the photographs serve as a means of honouring culture, while the means of doing so have been through transformation, is that it is a symbolization of progression in two facets. The first being that race is fluid, that by changing skin colours so easily and objectifying it can one dispel the notion that skin colour is to be a stigma. The second being that these photographs celebrate culture by means of displaying Western items that have been heavily influenced, keeping in mind that these garbs are indeed for sale not simply created for the occasion.

Finally, coming back to the category of fashion photography as a whole, one draws upon French theorist Roland Barthes’ work on the subject. Barthes proposes in “Fashion Photography,” which appears as an appendix in the 1967 work The Fashion System, that within fashion photography, there are three key styles – objective, romantic, and mockery[9]. Immediately the labels of objectivity and mockery do not jump out at the viewer as appropriate for these photographs. For if they were to be objective, the representation of an Orient woman, for instance, would be literal, as opposed to being symbolic (i.e. using a white woman in blackface). And if they were to be under the guise of mockery, the element of outrageousness would be evident; however, there is a quality of “”realism” that is strived for in all of these photographs. The notion of romanticism, though, in this context, evokes the idea of illustrating desire and, and more importantly, the imaginary. These five photographs all fall into this sub-category of romanticism, which in turn, can be said to reinforce this idea of construction in exhibitionary order – a construction not by the Other but by those who are viewing the Other.

Overall, it can be surmised that the exhibitionary order puts the Other, whether it be foreigner, woman or both, on an endless display as captured by the photograph in the process of embalming the subject into an object. The exhibitionary order, however, cannot be defined as solely repurposing native artifacts and traditions for the white man’s gaze, as Mitchell had proposed in his essay. It should be noted that ethnicity and skin colour, too, are a part of the exhibitionary order, especially when dealing with photography; their objectification, especially through blackface, creates a real distance from the “authentic” and “reality” of the true Other. It is to say that the act of fully removing the person eliminates any possibility that perhaps there is veracity in what is being shown, and thus creating a real absence or disconnect, of which Mitchell discusses in his definition of Orientalism. Those key aspects to Orientalism – essentialism, Otherness, and absence – are also applicable to defining the representation of the Other in general within the exhibitionary order. After all, the fashion photographs examined, for instance, create this exhibitionary order by means of removing an actual cultural identity, giving a subjective and objectified view of the Other and creating a disconnect in discourse of events. While the archive is said to be fluid and can be deemed both honourific and repressive, the context in which one understands the Other often lends to a more negative and pejorative view, hence the criticism that much of these photographs have faced upon release. That said, the exhibitionary order is a problematic one; it presents cultures not as they are, but as how the photographer believes they should be perceived. The average person, who intakes thousands of images per day, would have to manually process and decipher the codes that embedded in the photograph so as to realize the disillusion presented. Otherwise, the photograph may very well be taken as a “true representation” because of his or her unfamiliarity with the unidentified Other.

“Beyoncé Knowles – Biography”.  IMDB. October 18 2011. <http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0461498/bio>.

“Blackface Minstrelsy”.  1999. American Experience.  PBS Online. October 18 2011. <http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/foster/sfeature/sf_minstrelsy.html>.

Barthes, Roland. The Fashion System. University of California Press, 1983. Print.

Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida. 1979. Hill and Wang, 2010. Print.

Klein, Steven. Vogue Paris, Paris, 2009.

Meisel, Steven. Moroccan Holiday. Vogue Italia, 2009.

Mitchell, Timothy. “Orientalism and the Exhibitionary Order.” The Visual Culture Reader. Ed. Mirzoeff, N.: Routledge, 2002. Print.

Pillai, Mark. Beyoncé African Queen. L’Officiel, 2011.

Sekula, Allan. “The Body and the Archive.” October 39 Winter (1986): 3-64. Print.

Steinmetz, Katy. “Beyoncé in Blackface: Fashionable or Foul? Critics Weigh in on Controversial Photo Shoot”.  2011.  TIME. October 15 2011. <http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/02/24/beyonce-in-blackface-fashionable-or-foul-critics-weigh-in-on-controversial-photo-shoot/>.

Fake Coach interior

Tucked away from the bustle of Fifth avenue shoppers, the fourth floor of 745 Fifth Avenue is home to several galleries, including the Mary Boone, which I had the pleasure of visiting today. Though it was the last day for the exhibition that I had come to see, the space was empty unlike the Met in the last days of the Alexander McQueen exhibit. It was a sort of pleasantry in having the space to myself, to absorb what I had come to see – photographer Luis Gisbert’s exploration of the subculture of custom counterfeit fashion, Decpción.

In entering the space, I’m greeted with six or so large photographs mounted on canvas. They explore something quite remarkable that Gisbert had come across some time ago – a particularly small group of people who go out of their way to deck out their cars with faux fashion logos and fabrics. This in effect sparked his interest in documenting the bizarre uses of fraudulent iconography. Each of these canvases, apart from highlighting car interiors decked out in these counterfeit stylings, feature the car in a desolate and lonely place – whether it be a desert, tundra, or barren landscape. It is almost to say that this group is alone in their appreciation of false iconography as art.

Come into the second room and different photographs are shown – portraiture and objects. Two female portraits face one another in the small room, each woman donning a garment constructed out of counterfeit garb. Their gaze almost holds a challenging affect, seemingly asking the viewer if they would dare compliment something that is tailored, yet knowingly “false” in brand identity. The other two portraits conceal faces, leaving only the fake logos as the articulate piece. Drawing an interpretation for this set is difficult; does the lack of an identity (via) face mean that we strip the element of fashion and decoration, only to say that this is a textile for clothing? I am not quite sure.

But the most poignant of all the photographs is one of shredded fabric. That connotes a meaning that is perhaps quite clear – it is all fabric, branded or not, and at the end of day, we may simply reduce it to a point in which it all looks the same.

Fake Gucci car interior

Fake Fendi interior

Inside the Mary Boone Gallery for the Decepción exhibition

Images via maryboonegallery.com and Cool Hunting