As a side note, I am posting this from a free wireless connection on AmTrak, which in many ways is kind of miraculous, and not the sort of thing one should complain about. So if at some point this thing breaks down into me just frothing at the mouth about shitty connectivity, I apologize.
A while back the Metropolitan Museum in NYC had a retrospective of Alexander McQueen’s work. I was fortunate enough to go and see it (one of the advantages of being an Englishman in New York, as I’m sure Sting could tell you). It was just after McQueen’s suicide and became quite a big thing. Being the snappy social commentator that I am, I’m finally getting around to waxing lyrical about it.
The Horn of Plenty
I should preface this by saying I know both diddly and shit about fashion. And I don’t know much about art, either, though I tend to be of the opinion that art means to you exactly what you get out of it. I happen to dislike, for example, the Impressionists (insipid bastards) but I like to think that’s not a failing of either me or the artists. It’s just what they bring to the party, I don’t like. Other stuff I do. And that’s how I’m approaching McQueen’s fashion. I can’t have overly informed opinions, but I still have opinions. And this is my blog, so I get to inflict them upon you.
You are still reading, right?
The Girl Who Lived in the Tree
My personal aesthetic (which I say because I want to sound like a pretentious ass) tends toward something which I find both beautiful and repelling (this is an art only thing, just in case my wife is reading…) and McQueen’s work sits very squarely in that space for me. There’s a garishness, and angular uncomfortable-ness to his work. It is in some ways deeply unpleasant clothing that seems to have been designed for deeply unpleasant people. And yet there’s something lush, and opulent, and fantastically wonderful about it to. It catches the eye and glitters there for a while.
Eshu
I also enjoy the total disregard McQueen seems to have for the world around him. High fashion has always seemed an exercise in impracticality to me, (philistine that I am) but McQueen’s clothes seem to take impracticality as a strength, embrace it, and run off screaming into the hills with it to make sweet, sweet, creepy love. These are clothes that almost seem like imports from another world. And such is there power that they start to create that world around them. When I look at his creations I see glimpses of another place, somewhere dark, and austere, and magnificent. Not necessarily some place I’d like to visit, but definitely one I’d like to write about.
VOSS
The Metropolitan Museum web site still has the McQueen exhibit site up, and it’s well worth taking a look.
Have fun out there. Play safe.
I’m “getting the ball rolling” by being the first to comment. Although you’re a year late in your review,
still, it is probably one of the most accurate ones I’ve read…and of course AM is a huge inspiration for me.
I’d love to personally run screaming into the forest with one of his pieces on, but I’m afraid I’d end up killing myself on one of the spokes or spikes or pieces of microscope glass.
You know, I hadn’t really considered how cheesy “get the ball rolling” was right up until now. I’ll have to dig through the back end of the site to see if I can put something else there.
Anyway, glad you think the points are valid. I’m never sure if I’m using my mouth or my ass to talk when discussing art. But I loved the exhibit. Not all of his stuff worked for me. Some of his stuff that seemed inspired by the 80s and disco lights, but it was way more interesting than most fashion I’ve seen. I contemplated getting a copy of the exhibition catalog but the images didn’t quite do it justice.
Also – now I’m thinking I should do a post on your art. Because a) it would fit nicely here, and b) it’s badass. Sweet, tomorrow’s “what the hell do I post about” dilemma solved.
Excellent post, and (to my mind) a very apt characterization of McQueen’s art. I don’t like everything he ever created, but even the ones that aren’t my thing still fascinate me, which means he was very much on to something!
Thanks! And I totally agree on the “fascinating”-ness of them. There’s a sort of totality of vision in each collection which just demands attention.