“Art of the In-between,” is a toast to the brilliance, originality and influence
on fashion of Comme des Garcons, the label founded by Rei Kawakubo in 1973 designed by her ever since. Born in Japan in 1942 where she
continues to work, Kawakubo’s vaunted importance is spot lit in the press releases issued by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Make no mistake; this is a big deal. Indeed it is only the second time its Costume Institute has given a
fashion designer a one- person show. (The first was Yves Saint Laurent in 1983.)
This time the exhibition is not being displayed in its dedicated and capacious, if largely
subterranean, galleries. No indeedee. It is upstairs on the second
floor in one of the museum’s special art-exhibition spaces--an elevation in more than the number of steps to climb.
The catalogue is big, chic and gorgeous (of course). It
manages to be both flashy and minimalist. There is a long Q and A “conversation”
between Kawakubo and the Institute’s curator/director Andrew Bolton. 
He asks rihanna the Qs and she, who seldom gives interviews or even speaks where reporters can listen
in, well it would be wrong to call her
words a response. Bolton unfolds before her
a plushy red carpet but instead of gliding along it or doing pirouettes, she
stalks her own thoughts and expresses them with Intelligence, an independent
mind and a certainty that is bracing. She makes plain they had disagreements, many. He
wanted a retrospective; she not. This was a battle she won. The future is her
baby or her prey. Try to drag her back to past inventions or even pin her down
to the so- called here and now and she turns into a donkey; one that chooses
silence over braying. She did not want to be curated; no interpretation,
please. That battle she lost.
He asks rihanna the Qs and she, who seldom gives interviews or even speaks where reporters can listen
in, well it would be wrong to call her
words a response. Bolton unfolds before her
a plushy red carpet but instead of gliding along it or doing pirouettes, she
stalks her own thoughts and expresses them with Intelligence, an independent
mind and a certainty that is bracing. She makes plain they had disagreements, many. He
wanted a retrospective; she not. This was a battle she won. The future is her
baby or her prey. Try to drag her back to past inventions or even pin her down
to the so- called here and now and she turns into a donkey; one that chooses
silence over braying. She did not want to be curated; no interpretation,
please. That battle she lost.
I never bought or wore anything by Comme des Garcons but I
was attracted to what Kawakubo had to say. I was curious, hopeful too, about
the show as I headed uptown to see it.
Unlike most museum exhibitions—in fact all that I can recall—the
shop isn’t at the end but fills much off the broad corridor out front. I am no
shopaphobe but the merchandise could wait. I went straight into the
cinematically futuristic, somewhat arctic landscape beyond.
White, amorphously shaped pods –some double- deckers—w-hich
looked like they were carved out of non-reflective ice, were like so many avant-garde
open-air igloos with mannequins inside. They were arranged in clusters along winding paths. I quickly lost track of where I’d been and where I thought I was
going next. This not a criticism. With no time line why not get lost and discover?
I saw many things made of fabric that were fanciful,
amusing, bizarre, pretty in parts. The thing is, with very few exceptions what I did not see
was clothes. .
In its early days, Comme des Garcons aficionados in Japan
were called Ravens…women who adopted as if a uniform, its loose, long, black,
monk/nunish garments; their feet encased by clunky, flat black sardine- can
shaped shoes. 
Then there were tops with with purpose made holes in them;
garments with ragged edges. Seams were not longer necessarily on the inside. Kawakubo
took Comme to Paris where for a couple of decades the label shocked; it made
news and money. Fashion writers talk about how she liberated women; no more dressing to seduce men. They are
still writing this stuff. It is as dated as she fears those earlier pieces
would look.
The sleeves on the objects shown at the Met,(if they have
any) seldom would allow a person to raise her arm. What, take into account the
need for the use of hands? These objects do not liberate the body; they
incarcerate it. How has she managed to operate a successful international
fashion business selling stuff like this? Well fashion journalists seem enthralled. But
so do shoppers as I found out when I went out front..
There is a barrier the size of the Berlin Wall between most
of what is in the show and what is for sale. (And it is in no danger of being
pulled down. Tee shirts—not unlike French sailor stripped numbers although here
in colors besides dark blue--are priced at about $150.00. There are navy
cardigans, small zipped pouches in gold leather totally plain but for the
stamped words Comme des Garconons. This is Kawakubo’s line called Play and the
playful part comes from the logo—a pair of cats eyes joined to form a heart. It
appears also on the white Converse trainers selling for $125.
What with all the
hype and all the photographs of Rihanna at the Met Gala to benefit the Costume
Institute—decked out in leggy, Comme- couture entry in Rio’s Carnival, the credit
card machines were overheating..
This exhibition makes no case for the influence of Rei
Kawakubo or of her being a fashion artist.
There is little to compare with the many works of enormous beauty and
thrilling invention on view in ManusxMachina—lasat year’s Costume Institute’s
big May show. (About which I wrote for the Economist http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2016/06/high-tech-fashion-design). . Gareth Pugh and Iris
van Herpen were two of the stars in a sky ablaze with them. “Art of the In-Between”
is not a great art show nor is it a fashion exhibition. On the plus side: Shop sales should go some way to making up
the huge deficit that materialized during the tenure of the Met’s outgoing
Director Tom Campbell
.
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