Column: Art is fashion is art is ... fashion?

When I tell people I’m a journalism major and want to write about fashion, they’re rarely surprised.

I’ve loved reading and writing for as long as I can remember, and I probably told my entire eighth-grade class my lifelong dream of working for Lucky or Vogue. Plus, I’m the first to admit I was one of those obnoxious 13-year-olds who changed their outfit 10 times a day.

The thing that does confuse nearly everyone I come across is my art history degree. I’m not sure if there’s some strange stigma attached or if they just view it as a “random” major. I mean, it’s not like it’s my only major, but still.

My normal response to this is simply, “Well, I love art.” This much is true, but is “loving” something really worth making room in your schedule for 400-level classes that dissect partially-destroyed Greek sculptures from 530 BC?

Well, yes. I’d argue it’s worth it. What’s the point of doing anything if you don’t love it?
But what I’ve discovered after three years of those intense art history classes (ranging from Italian Baroque to installation art; Polykleitos to Piet Mondrian) is that I’ve actually become a better writer. Or, at least, a better fashion writer.

I initially realized this after posting about my obsession with bright, saturated colors on my blog, twin-studies.blogspot.com.

The blog post was about spring trends such as cobalt sweaters and aqua handbags, but all I could think about was how it all resembled a David Hockney painting.

Another example: A well-known denim company recently launched a pair of skinny jeans with a bold, all-over painted pattern and dubbed them “the Toulouse jean” after French artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Fashion blogs, magazines and websites all around the world praised the “abstract” creations, blatantly disregarding that Toulouse-Lautrec’s work was, in fact, decidedly non-abstract.

Actually, nothing about the jeans felt very reminiscent of Toulouse-Lautrec at all: The giant smudges of “paint” colors were hardly representative of his post-impressionist work.
The “Toulouse” jeans honestly remind me of more contemporary art. But I digress.

That I was making this distinction at all made me realize just how closely art and fashion are linked. As a true fashion-phile, of course I’ve always believed clothing and accessories are the art of our everyday lives. But my now-extensive art education has helped me understand this side of fashion like never before.

In this month’s issue of one of my very favorite fashion magazines, a small blurb about the Prada Spring 2012 collection had the title “Push and Pull.” Before I’d read a single word about Miuccia Prada’s spring pastels and metallic finishes, I was brought back to a particular lecture in my art history class about 20th century art.

My professor described a George Braque painting and the “push and pull” created by the different lines and shapes on the canvas. Repeated cubes trick the eye into thinking they’re extending into our space, as if you’re wearing 3-D glasses, but a lack of middle ground snaps everything back to emphasize the very two-dimensional painting
itself.

As confusing as that might sound, that lecture helped me easily understand that Prada description. The phrase “push and pull” wasn’t used to refer to cubes or paint, but instead to explain the juxtaposition of Prada’s different textures, matte vs. metallic, and the balance of simple shapes and minute, beautiful details.

Not only does this make perfect sense to me, but in all reality, that tiny little paragraph inspired this very article.

­— emfarra@indiana.edu