Art Revivals
Back in the early days of yesteryear, medieval artists struggled to bring the human form to life in their art. Limited knowledge of physiology and contemporary styles constrained what they could do.
This is classic gothic sculpture. Notice how the people are pretty much just heads slapped on the top of blocks of "clothing". To give the impression that there is a body concealed and obscured in that shapeless mass, the artists make the feet stick out the bottoms of the robes -- sort of a, "see! look! I told you there was a leg in there somewhere!" comment -- and add contrived angles to the arms and legs to let them "show" a knee (note the angel on the right) or an elbow.
Fast forward a few centuries to the Renaissance, and we find artists had rediscovered what the Greeks had known millennia earlier. Witness Michelangelo:
Here, Mary is wearing even more clothes -- Marie von Trapp could make a dozen outfits for all her children with this, a volume of worsted wrapping surpassed only by the yearly output of Lowell in its heyday -- than her gothic predecessors, but we can see her form clearly without artistic manipulation.
How far we've come in just a few centuries!
Fast forward another few centuries, and we find our protagonist at a bus stop gazing casually around. He espies a fashion ad -- one of the myriad that bespeckle the Fashion Capital known as Geneva. Here we see the latest offering for the coming season:
This is Charles Voegele's latest: the tunic. Clearly he wishes to harken back to the days of yore, as he accurately captures the medieval artistic zeitgeist. Formless clothing? Check. No indication of the body under it? Check. Odd contorted postures to give the sense of an actual human beneath the clothes? Check.
Maybe it's just me, but isn't high fashion supposed to be interesting and alluring? It should make you take notice. The ads for high fashion should make you think that if you wear those clothes, you, too, will be: beautiful, exciting, interesting, successful. Good clothes should make people look better. Classy clothes shouldn't make the wearer attractive in spite of their ensemble. For shame, Chucky Voegele.
This is classic gothic sculpture. Notice how the people are pretty much just heads slapped on the top of blocks of "clothing". To give the impression that there is a body concealed and obscured in that shapeless mass, the artists make the feet stick out the bottoms of the robes -- sort of a, "see! look! I told you there was a leg in there somewhere!" comment -- and add contrived angles to the arms and legs to let them "show" a knee (note the angel on the right) or an elbow.
Fast forward a few centuries to the Renaissance, and we find artists had rediscovered what the Greeks had known millennia earlier. Witness Michelangelo:
Here, Mary is wearing even more clothes -- Marie von Trapp could make a dozen outfits for all her children with this, a volume of worsted wrapping surpassed only by the yearly output of Lowell in its heyday -- than her gothic predecessors, but we can see her form clearly without artistic manipulation.
How far we've come in just a few centuries!
Fast forward another few centuries, and we find our protagonist at a bus stop gazing casually around. He espies a fashion ad -- one of the myriad that bespeckle the Fashion Capital known as Geneva. Here we see the latest offering for the coming season:
This is Charles Voegele's latest: the tunic. Clearly he wishes to harken back to the days of yore, as he accurately captures the medieval artistic zeitgeist. Formless clothing? Check. No indication of the body under it? Check. Odd contorted postures to give the sense of an actual human beneath the clothes? Check.
Maybe it's just me, but isn't high fashion supposed to be interesting and alluring? It should make you take notice. The ads for high fashion should make you think that if you wear those clothes, you, too, will be: beautiful, exciting, interesting, successful. Good clothes should make people look better. Classy clothes shouldn't make the wearer attractive in spite of their ensemble. For shame, Chucky Voegele.