Beauty in the grotesque

Christopher Kane appropriates The Flintstones dinosaur scales and Planet of the Apes gorilla nightmares in his 2009 Spring/Summer collection.

A fitting companion to John Galliano's 2007 Fall/Winter rags-and-yarn cavemen from the time of the mammoths. I'm sure there can be something equally Freudian interpreted from the sheer organza dresses.



The forwardness of both collections conceal a bleakness uncovered by Jean-Michel Basquiat's graffiti paintings.



There is something visceral about the associations and references, something intrinsically raw and animalistic, which is frozen in formalin or captured in sculpture by contemporary artist Damien Hirst.



Kane's new collection may border on the tacky. But restraint and visionary punch lift concept to wearability.

Galliano takes the opposite tack by dusting and greasing up wearable items with modern mythology.



Either way, the outcome stares at you straight at the face. Both succeed in selling their ideas.



For Hirst, the element of shock found in his works draws audiences to the maw of disconcertment.

Is it because of the works' scale?



Or the encounter with sheer physicality and objectivity, which jar the sensibility of city and internet inhabitants?

Whether Damien Hirst is a revolutionary artist or merely a swindler of both ideas and auction patrons, true art shall continue to strive to represent current conditions.



Honesty is a fragile thing.



On the canvas or in the flesh.



Good thing for fashion, the evolution of art shall provide an an ever-expanding portofolio of cultural references, from painting and architecture to cinema and music.



Life in all its beauty and ugliness.



Its pretensions and emptiness.



Anything can be a source of inspiration.



Everything is pregnant with meaning. It is only a matter of dissecting.



Photos from men.style.com and style.com

Gareth Pugh: Skin, fur, and scales

I must admit that at first glance, Gareth Pugh's Fall 2009 collection was not easy to look at. The clothes are visually violent, aggressive in how they express their futuristic and wild aesthetic.



An animalistic spirit is alive in the outfits. There are coats that look like armor - stiff, metallic, and geometric.





The fabric of the coats is even used for a jacket constructed like an obi. Pugh also employs the protective covering of other animals, such as fur. But the way this tunic is made also appears threatening: it has large shoulders and the length of the hair reminds you of its origin.





Other outfits utilize man-made armor, like chainmail. Even the boots are bound to ward of predators.



Blown up, the small geometric pattern resembles those used by harlequins. Using it for puffers is clever.





Rendered in all black, the armor now looks like snakeskin.





While the sheen of these fabrics remind one of slick black kelp.



The interpretations for this collection are slippery, like slimy eels.





These black and wet things awaken our deep-seated fear, but also fascination, of the grotesque.



These headpieces look like squid or seaweed thrown from the ocean.



From afar, the pins on the jacket and the trench look like thin animal hair. For such menacing creatures brought to mind by the collection, the dangerous seems perfectly natural.





Loose hairs and feathers look no different from ripped and tattered fabric.





The outfits look as if they just landed from another planet, or they just rose from the depths.



This post is part of a set in reply to a query by Nihaal Faizal from India on the topic of his sketches and on science fiction