Upcoming Exhibitions: "American Woman" and "Night & Day"

My trips to Manhattan for exhibits are much too few and far between, and when I go, I have to pack in as much as I can. In a couple of weeks, I plan on visiting the shows "American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity" and "Night and Day" at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and The Museum at FIT, respectively. "American Woman" features garments from the Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection, now housed at the Met (I discussed the transfer here), and will focus on changing perceptions of American femininity in and through dress. This could be a broad and thought-provoking exhibition because it is not only examining the work of American designers but all designers who dress, and have dressed, archetypal American women. I'm also excited to see it because I have spent a large amount of time discussing American designers and the American market (and their differences from their French and European counterparts) in the course on the great designers that I taught at Marymount this semester. When I met the wonderful Isabel and Ruben Toledo last week (more on that later, once I get pictures!), Ruben laughingly commented to me that he thought it was funny that Andrew Bolton was curating this show, since he is British! But perhaps an "outsider" can more easily recognize those things that are archetypically American. One thing that rubs me the wrong way is that the sample Audio Guide clip on the exhibit website is narrated by Sarah Jessica Parker, but perhaps that has more to do with my views on Sex and the City (which I will keep to myself-- you're welcome) than any hints at "selling out." If costume exhibits were completely divorced from pop culture, I don't know if anyone but me would come, anyway!

The second exhibit, "Night and Day," is a rotation of The Museum at FIT's History Gallery, which is always a chronological display of fashion history from the 18th through the 21st centuries but features different garments and a different theme every 6 months. This one focuses on the rules for appropriate dress according to time of day. I'm particularly curious to see what they come up with for the late 20th and early 21st century, as we no longer have hard-and-fast rules as to what must be worn when. Perhaps there will be some pieces that blur the day/evening line. I'm sorry that I will be catching this exhibit at its tail end. If you have the chance, go now before it's too late!

Has anyone been to "Night and Day?" How about FIT's show "American Beauty," which recently closed but was focused solely on American designers, many of whom are not well known? Are you as excited to see these exhibits as I am?

Photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt, Life, 1941.

Japanese Fashion and Textiles; Isabel and Ruben Toledo at Marymount

I finally made it to the Textile Museum to see "Contemporary Japanese Fashion: The Mary Baskett Collection," which closes on Sunday (I mentioned it here on the blog before it opened). The exhibit is excellent for many reasons, and if you have the chance to see it this weekend, by all means go.

For a costume exhibit-- or any exhibit, really-- to be successful, it needs to be both scholarly and engaging, which to me means 1) readable didactics and labels, 2) a layout that displays the objects to their best advantage while protecting them from damage and allows for easy viewing and movement within the space and 3) a coherent and digestible "big idea" or takeaway message. This exhibit did quite well on all of these fronts, although I had a few minor complaints.

While at first glance I considered the didactics too long (I prefer 150-200 words or fewer), I found them both concise and informative. There were only four didactic panels: an introductory one that explained the designers featured and the collector of their pieces, and one for each of the featured designers (Yohji Yamamoto, Issey Miyake, and Rei Kawakubo). The label copy was not displayed; instead, it was featured in spiral-bound books that could be taken at the start of the exhibit, and each ensemble was numbered at the base of its mannequin or mount for reference in the catalog. I suppose they chose to do this in order to make the exhibit space as clean as possible, and not clutter it with labels, which are often difficult to place. Still, I had to go back and get the book because I didn't realize it was a necessity at first, and I feel as though many museumgoers would have missed it altogether and simply wandered through the space guided only by the larger didactic panels on the designers. Because of the unorthodox features and enigmatic style of these garments, as well as their connections to the design philosophies of their makers, labels were absolutely necessary in this exhibit and anyone who missed the label copy probably felt more confused than enlightened. My one other gripe with the labels was that some of the objects that seemed the most intriguing were left unexplained (an ensemble on a strangely posed mannequin by Kawakubo, and a shorts suit by Miyake, for example). Otherwise, I felt that the didactics and labels were quite well-written.

Besides the clothing itself, the most striking element of the exhibit for me was the way in which the garments were mounted. Most of them had custom interior mounts that were attached to the ceiling and floor by long wires, which allowed the pieces to take their proper shape as though being worn but also to speak for themselves, uninterrupted by distracting mannequins. My guess is that these mounts were provided by the owner, at least in part-- while the exhibit was sponsored (by the cosmetics company Shisheido, among other organizations), the production and installation of custom mounts for all of these pieces seems as though it would be prohibitive both in time and in cost. There were other pieces mounted on simple, appropriate mannequins, and a few pieces mounted flat or on custom-carved foam mounts. One piece was shown quasi-flat, so that the pattern could be appreciated, but with a subtle body shape in the foam support that suggested its look when worn. I was very impressed by the quality of the mounting in this exhibit, and few things are more important to costume exhibits than proper display!

The exhibit also had irregularly angled white wooden "floors" built up underneath the garments, which served as a kind of "set" and also prevented visitors from walking too close to, or underneath, the pieces on display. While I am certain these were labor-intensive and time-consuming to produce, the result was excellent-- it was just the kind of subtle backdrop that best accents these types of garments and eliminated the need for unsightly stanchions or guardrails.

Finally, one of the smartest things about the exhibit's arrangement was that it began with work by Yohji Yamamoto, continued with Issey Miyake, and finished with Rei Kawakubo (and some of her colleagues at Comme des Garçons). At first, I was suprised that the show did not begin with Mikaye, who is the oldest of the three and considered the field's pioneer. Starting with Yamamoto, however, both made best use of the space (the exhibit starts in a smallish hallway that would not have had room for all of the Miyake pieces) and made conceptual sense. Yamamoto's pieces are the easiest for Westerners to understand; they blend Western and Japanese fashion sensibilities and are the most "wearable." Miyake's are fun and innovative, and a little more difficult to accept aesthetically, and Kawakubo's are the most intellectual and least "beautiful" in a traditional Western sense. By beginning with Yamamoto and ending with Kawakubo, the visitor is introduced to foreign concepts bit-by-bit, and is warmed up by the time he or she reaches the most challenging garments.

While I would have liked to learn a bit more about the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi (beauty in imperfection and transience) that was hinted at, but not named, in the didactics, I felt that the exhibit did an excellent job of introducing both the layman and the fashion scholar to pieces that are at once unfamiliar and important. I appreciated that the didactics emphasized that the collector wears these pieces in her everyday life, showing that the designers are not creating these objects as pure art but as clothing to be worn.

There is much more to say about these designers and why they are so important to contemporary fashion but I will save that for another day. I want to end by saying that Marymount University (where I teach) is soon holding its annual Portfolio in Motion event, where fashion design and fashion merchandising students produce a fashion show and host a eminent designer, who receives an award and reviews the portfolios of the senior design students. I blogged about last year's event and featured designer Peter Som here. This year, the event takes place starting Thursday, April 22nd and continues into the weekend, and our featured designer is none other than Isabel Toledo, who designed Michelle Obama's "Lemongrass" ensemble for the inauguration and an exhibit of whose work I thoroughly enjoyed last year. She will be accompanied by her husband, celebrated illustrator Ruben Toledo. I am beyond excited about their attendance, both for my own sake and for the students'. Tickets for the opening show and cocktail reception are $100, but you can attend the subsequent shows (without the Toledos) for only $15. More information can be found here.

What do you think of these designers? Have you seen the exhibit, and how did you feel about it if you did? What do you think is most important in an exhibit like this?

Photo by Mark Whiting, http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/0MYZE3-pdqbyw0fG7Kqb2Q

Katie Couric in Harper's Bazaar

I have finally returned from a far-too-long hiatus centered around a trip to Southeast Asia and the subsequent readjustment to normal life, which itself was interrupted by unprecedented snowstorms that have shut down the entire Washington area! Now, however, I'm back, and while my first intention is to write a post on the fabulous textiles I encountered in SE Asia, I've decided to begin instead with a brief post on an article by The Washington Post's Robin Givhan. The article focuses on a story in this month's Harper's Bazaar about CBS anchor (and UVa alumna, I might add) Katie Couric.

I have covered Givhan's reporting in the past (see these posts), and generally admire her writing and obersvation, although I feel that her lack of a fashion studies background is a handicap to her full understanding of some of the topics she covered. The article on Couric centers not on the text of the Bazaar article but on its photography, by François Dischinger. Givhan writes, "(The photos) are an audacious celebration of a powerful woman as a boldly sexy one, too.

There's nothing reserved or hesitant in the sex appeal on display in the four-page story about Couric. The images are a full-throated, even exaggerated, rebuke of the notion that a woman must dress in a prescribed manner -- Suze Orman suits, full-coverage blouses, sensible heels -- to protect her IQ, her résumé and her place in a male-dominated work culture.

Is Couric dressed in a manner appropriate for a network anchor? These images demand that viewers define -- or redefine -- their terms."

There are two main images of Couric that accompany the article (at least in the online coverage): one depicts her in a beige, one-shouldered, above-knee-length Calvin Klein collection dress sitting at a glass desk in a modernist white office, and the other shows her in a short, dark skirt and blazer by Giorgio Armani, black hose, and a pair of Louboutin booties. She clutches the blazer closed at her chest and no shirt is visible underneath. In this second picture, Couric stands boldly atop two TV sets, one showing her (in?)famous interview with Sarah Palin and one showing her interviewing President Obama.

It's obvious that the photographer wanted to convey confidence, power, and yes, sex appeal. Couric is, after all, the first woman to anchor the evening news solo on one of the "big three" broadcast networks. While the article seems to emphasize her interviewing prowess, she is portayed as the anti-Barbara Walters: young, modern, in-charge -- and sexy.

In fact, it seems as though leaving sex appeal out of the picture would diminish her powerful image. In our culture, sex appeal has become an essential part of a woman's strength; asexuality, dowdiness, or even the downplay of one's assets for the sake of propriety smacks of a lack of confidence and creates the sense that a woman is not at home with her femininity. This is not a particularly new idea, especially since Sex and the City brought almost-nymphomaniacally sexually aware third-wave/post-third-wave feminism to the forefront of popular culture.

Givhan takes this sex-appeal-as-power in a different direction, as well, recognizing the difficulties of maintaining this kind of fashionable image (particularly when it comes to shoes):

How can she walk in those? Pure grit-- that's the explanation. And yes, please infer that if those four-inch stilettos don't draw tears from the woman wearing them, then neither will some ambitious colleague's backstabbing ways. Fashion, in this sense, is power.

There is, of course, the depth of the phallic symbolism of high heels to be plumbed here as well, but plenty of articles have already been written on that subject. And, to be honest, I don't think that would be particularly pertinent in an examination of Katie Couric.

As Bazaar fashion/special projects director Laura Borwn phrases it, "When coming up in the industry, you tend to dress the way people think you should dress. (Couric) has earned the right to be sexy if she wants." In these photos, Couric is indeed participating in the dissemination of this idea. Yet Brown adds that, after all, Couric was "doing photos for a fashion magazine, not Newsweek." I think that any analysis of Couric in these photos, and not just the photos themselves, must acknowledge that Couric's participation here was mostly as a fashion model. These are not news photos, nor are they strictly fashion journalism; they are that frequently seen combination of portrait and fashion shoot that combines chosen aspects of a person's personality and appearance with other desirable attributes to create a celebrity image.

Givhan states, "Certainly, some will see the pictures as further proof of why she is all wrong for the job. They will probably be the same people for whom Couric has accumulated a personal work wardrobe of blacks, grays and pinstripes -- a more sophisticated, yet still reserved, alternative to the news-anchor cliché of Crayola-colored blazers." These people, and perhaps Givhan as well, would do better to analyze Couric's personality, and personal image, through the clothing she wears on and off the job in public life. Those "blacks, grays and pinstripes" are far more telling about the real Couric, and her personal idea of what it means to be a powerful woman, than the outfits in which she was dressed by the Bazaar staff. How does sexuality play into this? Only a good look at Couric's wardrobe choices, which deserves more thought that I can give it here, would tell.

What do you think? How do you perceive Couric? How do you think our culture interprets sexuality and its relationship to feminine power?

Photo of Couric by Sylvain Gaboury for Life, 09 Mar 2000.