Olivier
Theyskens’ signature is sumptuous fantasy balanced with solemn formal rigor.
The designer will inaugurate "In Praesentia," a rich carte blanche
display of his imaginative universe, at Cité de la dentelle et de la mode,
a.k.a. the Museum of Lace and Fashion, curated by Lydia Kamitsis (June
15-January 5). Located in the northern French city of Calais, the venue has
previously featured exhibitions on Hubert de Givenchy, Cristóbal Balenciaga,
and Iris van Herpen.
In
successions of theatrical vitrines, Theyskens silhouettes mix with in-house
historical garments: pairing forms, colors, and materials across decades and
even centuries. The selected pieces are beautifully mixed with vintage
industrial tools — a lace press, patinated bobbin boards, trestles, registries
of lace samples — that double as sculptural totems. The show provides an
authentic and striking tribute to Theyskens’ recurring creative obsessions.
The
Belgian designer precociously started his own label in 1997, after quitting
fashion school. Over the next two decades, he fashioned lavish gowns at Rochas
and Nina Ricci, then contemporary separates for Theory. Theyskens revived his
namesake line in 2016 and, since February, his Paris atelier has been
headquartered in a stunning historic building. The ground floor was built in
the 19th century, for an aristocrat during the French Directory; upstairs,
amidst architecture from a later period, he and his team work in an Art Nouveau
jewel with dark wood panelling and stained glass windows (The setting is pulled
down to earth thanks to schoolchildren screeching through recess in an adjacent
courtyard).
Theyskens,
sporting a black T-shirt that read “Dirty Mind” on one side, and “Clean Oceans”
on the other, discussed his insatiable appetite for drama, his wariness of big
brands re-writing fashion history, and the pleasures of deconstructing his own
work.
You had
an exhibition in 2017-2018 at MoMU in Antwerp. How will this show be different?
When the
MoMU asked me to do a retrospective, I always imagined it as something you do
at the end of your career — and I feel like I’m in the middle! That exhibition
was purely chronological; we were featuring absolutely every show I ever did
and some key outfits. The visitor would see my evolution collection by
collection, plus some fashion sketches, photographs, and personal documents. It
was a very classical approach to showing one designer’s path. Soon after the
exhibition ended, I got this solicitation from the museum in Calais. I believe
by seeing the exhibition of the MoMU, they linked my work to theirs. Their
permanent exhibition is about the history of the French industry of lace… I
started off by using vintages laces, and reconnected with lace when I started
at Rochas — it was their logo. And the museum is celebrating its tenth
anniversary during the exhibition.
You’re
entwining pieces from their collection into your show.
I felt
key elements in their conservation department could dialogue well with parts of
my work. It was important for me that the experience of looking at my work for
this exhibition be different than what I’d done two years before. I went to
Calais a lot — they have clothes from the 18th to the 20th century, but they
also have a department of conservation for industrial tools: machines,
furniture connected to the industry. I thought that was interesting to show,
and they had never exhibited it. I was looking at my own archives without the
lens of "this was a great outfit from the show" — it was about the
components, and things that didn't make it to shows, that I edited out; I felt
some of them now had some resonance. I’m showing more the métier than what
people have already seen. The way we could define a new approach in my work was
to really dismantle all my methodology and focus on the key elements in my work
— black, bias-cut, the feel of nostalgia… We created links between these themes
and what I found in the museum. My methodology has something retro, a way of
designing clothes like a couturier. With the stuff from the end of the 19th
century and beginning of the 20th, you see the link — I’m in continuity with
the past. That was interesting — to feel you’re a bit part of that family.
How do
you negotiate that balance between nostalgia and reinvention? Looking back on
the history of fashion, but also moving it forward?
Even
when I do something new, I can have this vibe that makes you think of the past.
My last show was definitely retrofuturist, in my mind, and there were things
that were definitely connecting it to the ‘40s, but at the same time the
clothes themselves, from my point of view, were new. They didn't look
derivative. I think that the nostalgia is in my inspiration — it is fueled by
these feelings of watching some elegant past — movies, paintings — that there
was a beauty to the way people would dress, which then appears in the sketches.
Already as kid, I would draw silhouettes that would feel costume-y, that looked
18th century. I’ve always been like that. And sometimes I love to have
something that feels disconnected from anything: the novelty of a new way to
create a shape or a cut.
What are
some of those implicit influences?
I like
artists with melancholy. I appreciate pop artists — I’m open-minded — but I
don't personally feel connected to that. I love Louise Bourgeois, though never
did an ode to her. I always loved Hans Bellmer, and one time I decided to
integrate pieces of his photographic work in my collection. This is something I
had never done. I integrated them not for valeur ajouté [added value] but like
a real ingredient: with discretion and respect.
Are you
yourself someone who goes to fashion exhibitions?
The
first time I started seeing fashion exhibitions, I was disappointed about how
fashion looks in a museum. It’s very… [pauses] fashion is generated in motion.
I remember how much I was fantasizing on the idea of beautiful dresses. In
Spain, in the 2000s, I saw an exhibition with some outfits from the 19th
century … I saw how small the dresses were, and there wasn't this drama. There
was something regional about it. Even Versailles-type dresses with the baskets
on the side that are like two meters wide… I’ve been disappointed. I’ve also
seen exhibitions that were amazing, where you see how beautiful the clothes
are… I loved the Vionnet exhibition.
What
about splashier exhibitions like, say, Dior?
I went
to the Dior one but it was painful because of how many people there were.
Painful. And there was so much. I wish I’d been able to stop in front of the
things I truly admire. In my early 20s, I read Christian Dior’s autobiography,
and it made me love his work. That exhibition had all the key pieces, which was
amazing. I was aware that it was lucky, but I couldn't experience this
appreciation. And I regret it. It was too splashy. With the décor! And this!
And that! This overlooooad… you just think, today, there are players in the
fashion industry. The marketing surrounding these brands is rewriting the
culture and the way we see 20th century fashion.
Rewriting
the culture in what sense?
When I
was at Rochas, it was so hard to find elements about the house and its history.
There were a few documents; you couldn't find anything on the Internet. There
hadn't been archives or preservation work. I had a small black-and-white book
from the ‘80s, and the archives of the perfume, which inspired me so much.
Meeting people from fashion museums, meeting Hélène Rochas… I had so much
respect for the legacy and what Marcel Rochas brought, actually, to fashion.
It’s as much, if not more, than some of the famous brands today. But no one
will think that because we only see Chanel here, Dior here, and that’s all. It
makes me nervous sometimes, because I am aware of how much other people
brought. Good curators can really put everything back in order — but that’s not
the splash. That’s the history. Most books are done by brands on their own
terms, with a very cleaned-up fashion history. I always take distance from
that. Christian Dior, when he launched, he was in his 40s. He had been a
pattern-maker for different designers. He, apparently, admired Rochas dresses
during the 1940s; during the war, there were already these dresses cinched at
the waist in silk taffeta. That silhouette was not absolutely new—it was just a
way to bring it back, and enhance it, with talent, with a pure sense of the joy
of beauty. There were precursors, and visionaries. And this you will not read
in a Dior book today — I imagine! [laughs]
What
about your own narrative? Gothic and Romantic are without fail the adjectives
associated with your work. Do you like those associations?
I accept
that — in essence, I’m first and foremost a melancholic person. I know it
because of how I was as a child. I always loved drama, terrible things — I
could see beauty in there. I did not fancy funny things that much. What I bring
out is some sensitivity… it connects with something dark, something nostalgic,
something fragile, something haughty.
Would
you say your vision of femininity has remained constant over the past 20 years?
It goes
back even further, like 40 years [laughs]. I feel there is a Theyskenian girl.
I can never say there is a muse — my inspiration comes from things that aren't
just physical, but impressions. When I sketch, it’s a female incarnation of a
sensation, an emotion. I spent so much of my childhood imagining myself as a
girl.
That’s
interesting. Does the conversation about gender fluidity today change your
thinking in any way about being a womenswear designer?
A little
bit. I admire the youth, who have the bravery to get there. My parents let us
express ourselves, and as a child I was so obsessed with dresses and clothes I
wanted to be a princess, to have the drama of posing with that dress. In my
case, it was a fantasy; not the true will of having that identity. I went to a
dance school, and I was imagining being a ballerina because I thought they were
beautiful and elegant. It was for the visual of it, of being a ballerina. But
the kids that dare to go there and work the identity that is right for them? I
can't stand hearing 60-year-old gays saying: ‘We paved the way.’ Yes, but still
today — it’s a challenge for these kids. It’s not easy. Take a train and just
go to a regional spot! Might be more difficult. But I think it’s really good: I
always draw a girl, but it can blend, eventually, because I admire the body of
a man. It can be a grey zone.
In terms
of wanting to maximize drama, have you done costumes?
I did
some costumes! In Brussels, I did almost 300 costumes for an opera. And it was
an amazing experience because of the diversity of the physiques. There was a
chorus of 80 people, men and women. They displayed all the shapes a human can
have — but they had similar costumes, and so I had to adapt and fit all of that
with real people. And I enjoyed it so much, whether I was fitting a large short
man with legs a bit in the shape of an X…. Your eye just adapts instantly to
the person. At Theory we did made-to-measure for endorsements. A football
player has huge legs. You reconsider all the time how you make clothes. It’s
great to collaborate on special projects. You use your brain differently.
Designer
Olivier Theyskens on Drama, Reinvention, and Finding Beauty in Terrible Things.
By Sarah Moroz. i-D , June 14, 2019.
Olivier
Theyskens, the Belgian designer known for creating rarefied, darkly romantic
clothing, describes working with lace as “a habit”. The centuries-old fabric is
found throughout his oeuvre: from his first collection Gloomy Trips, which
featured shards of antique Chantilly lace collected by his grandmother, to his
tenures at Theory, Nina Ricci and Rochas – he revived the latter’s moribund
signature lace, spending seven months with a French lacemaker to make sure it
was just right. And, over a decade on, at his eponymous label, where Theyskens
now works solely (his most recent show in February in Paris saw balconette
bodices, hook-and-eye blouses and gowns in various iterations of the fabric).
“It’s always captivated me,” he tells AnOther. “It is so intimate, so
feminine.”
This
weekend, a new exhibition, Olivier Theyskens: In Praesentia, opens at the
Museum for Lace and Fashion in Calais. The city, which sits on France’s
northern coastline, is known for producing lace of all types: from abundantly
detailed Chantilly to lighter-than-air French tulle, and much between – houses,
such as Chanel, Valentino and Dior, all use lace from factories in the region.
The museum, which itself is housed in the abandoned Boulart lace factory,
collects the spoils of centuries of French lace-making: clothing, furnishings
and ephemera, including the machinery and tools long used to create it. In
Praesentia gave Theyskens access to the museum’s entire archive – whether on
display or otherwise – asking him to weave a narrative between past and
present, between his work and the numerous artefacts in the museum’s
collection.
“I had
just done a retrospective in at MoMu [ModeMuseum, a fashion museum in Antwerp,
Belgium] when the Calais museum contacted me to do something on my work,”
explains Theyskens of how the exhibition began. “I never thought I’d do another
exhibition, but I was interested because they talked about a new approach – at MoMu
it was very chronological, a reflection, show after show after show of what I
did – but here, they were interested in my creative process, and work with
lace. They gave me carte blanche to do whatever I liked with their collection;
to start a conversation between past and present.”
The
resulting exhibition is what the designer deems an “emotional” experience, an
attempt to replicate the visceral appeal of the fabric itself. “Lace has always
captivated me, even when I very young. That sexy side of lace – like lingerie –
and how most lace was always hidden,” he says. “When I was growing up my
grandmother used to collect little bits of antique lace offcuts for me, and
since I have always used it in my collections.” In Praesentia, then, diverts
from typical exhibitions on a designer’s work – instead, it is a series of
reveries from Theyskens on various themes, the colour black, illusion,
nostalgia and the corset among them.
One new,
unexpected fascination Theyskens discovered was with the machinery of lace
production itself: in the exhibition, mannequins might balance on old worker’s
stools; bobbins and boxes might be stacked alongside a towering heelless boot,
designed by Theyskens while at Nina Ricci. “I found myself interested in some
of the pieces connected to the activity of making lace: the furniture, tools,”
says the desinger. “When I was working at Rochas, and I would go to the
factories, I was overwhelmed by the environment. The lace is very delicate,
very intricate, subtle, fragile, meticulous, and the environment is extremely
brutalist: the machines are very heavy, very ancient, there is a lot of noise,
it is very dusty, and I kind of like this contrast.”
It is a
contrast he has struck in his own work, too, where clothing often teeters
somewhere between brutality and beauty: his early collections hinge on just
this, combining the excess of 17th- and 18th-century costume with industrial
elements – like the hook-and-eyelet fastening, one of his signatures – or
fetishistic understones – gimp masks, leather, severe corsetry and the like.
Theyskens’ own renown came on the back of Madonna – another artist astute at
balancing brutality and beauty – who wore a corseted yellow Theyskens gown for
the VH1 Fashion Awards in 1999, taken from only his second collection.
Hook-and-eyelet fastenings criss-cross the satin skirt, like it has been
slashed apart, and stitched back together.
“I think
a lot has changed since then, we were never thinking about creating content,”
Theyskens says of that moment. “The fashion world was a lot smaller, we were
working with people who we knew, who were experts. But I like change, I never
thought that the industry wouldn’t move on: I love that in the history of
20th-century fashion, there are such big changes between the 1950s and 60s, the
60s and 70s, the 70s and the 80s; the reappearance of designers, the
disappearance of others. It’s always been about change.
Change
might be on Theyskens’ mind, but an exhibition like this provides a chance for
a designer to take stock, and look back: Theyskens recently rearranged his
archive, which had previously been in storage in Belgium and not looked at for
many years. Within it, he discovered a wealth of pieces that even he didn’t
immediately recognise, including several garments which, for one reason or
another, did not make it into the final runway collection for a given season.
Some of these will appear In Praesentia: “I’m always pressured when I put
collections together to take out things that don’t quite fit in the story;
[with this exhibition] I’m happy to work in a way which isn’t just about ‘full
looks’ or collections,” he says.
Such an
approach makes the range of In Praesentia far wider than a typical
retrospective: instead, it provides a brief journey into the frenetic,
resourceful workings of a creative mind. “It’s a dialogue between past and
present, between new and old ways of working, of nostalgia and craft,”
Theyskens says. “When I make or put things together I draw on emotion, or
feeling. Sometimes, I want to put the intellect aside.”
Olivier
Theyskens: In Praesentia is on at Museum for Lace and Fashion in Calais, France
from 15 June, 2019 – 5 January, 2020.
Olivier
Theyskens’ New Exhibition Is About the Seductive Power of Lace. By Jack Moss. Another Magazine , June 13, 2019.
In
celebration of its 10th anniversary, Cité Dentelle Mode in Calais presents “In
praesentia” as a temporary exhibition from 15 June 2019 until 5 January 2020.
About 10 months in the making, the exhibition invites viewers into a small part
of Theyskens’ universe by expressing the connection between some of his past
pieces and lace itself.
Curator
Lydia Kamitsis explains the captivating title as a poetic word that evokes a
sense of imagination and curiosity. Put simply, “Praesentia,” a Latin term,
means “presence”. The title encourages visitors to be present and immerse
themselves in the atmosphere and ambiance of the exhibit. She describes
“praesentia” as a singular word that one does not have to translate into other
languages, as everyone understands its meaning.
In this
project, Theyskens works to protect the link between the culture and fashion of
the present and the past. Certain pieces preserved by the lace museum inspired
him, reminding him of his past works and other memories. Kamitsis carefully
mixes pieces from different collections and different times, (as opposed to
displaying the pieces chronologically) which serves as another manner of
bringing the idea of nostalgia to life while presenting a new way to view
modern work with museums.
The
exhibit also pays homage to the “behind-the-scenes” industrial workers,
bringing them to the forefront by featuring different pieces of lace-making
equipment and tools alongside the pieces displayed on mannequins. These roles
often go unmentioned, hence the desire to honor them.
Theyskens
notes his belief that the exploration of lace with its complex motifs and
complicated production techniques is unfinished; he believes that lace is not
used enough in the modern context and that it has so much to offer in the world
of fashion.
Olivier
Theyskens’ “In praesentia” Curated by Lydia Kamitsis at Cité Dentelle. By Kiana
Rizel Sales. A Shaded View of Fashion , June
14, 2019.
