Through their unique, unerring vision, three women, Eugenia Huici Arguedas de Errázuriz, Tamara de Lempicka and Colette Aboucaya not only shaped a new generation, influencing everything from architecture to art and fashion, but were also patrons of the arts, commissioning works from leading figures of the day, contributing to a defining moment in modern history.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult for talented designers who lack sufficient “public presence” to start up on their own, thereby snaring editorials, as for mainstream media, it’s far easier to regurgitate the prevailing “zeitgeist-light”, which can at present, perhaps, be defined by a widespread desire for ubiquity, prefaced by an innate fear of being thought of as “unfashionable” on social media.
While some lament contemporary design, sniffily suggesting it’s somehow inferior to, or merely derivative of past, “superior” ébénistes, it’s clear that there are, thankfully, a pocket of talented contemporary designers producing works as captivating as their forbears, that will, one day, become as collectable as that of Jean Royère , Mathieu Matégot or Jean-Baptiste-Claude Sené. As such, we should encourage creativity in all its forms, celebrating true talent and originality as opposed to those who spin a good yarn, with no real substance, or, to coin a phrase, the “editorially fashionable”.
Through her idiosyncratic vision, French artist Line Vautrin transformed unconventional, unfashionable and everyday materials into highly original jewellery and decorative objects, cast and chased in symbolism, an incarnation of true, refined luxury as well as a testament to a period of unrivalled creativity and invention.
Michael Chow, who these days goes by the single letter moniker “M”, has become something of an iconic figure, as a restauranteur, artist and collector. Like a latter-day, post-modern Marie-Laure de Noailles, Chow operates in a world where “motherfucker”, is employed nonchalantly as a term of endearment, and the creme de la creme of the art world clamour to design chopstick wrappers for his restaurants.
Sources of inspiration needn’t, necessarily, be the biggest names, but rather those who strike a chord on a personal level, whose aesthetic choices might open one’s eyes to new styles, colours, fabrics, and even ways of displaying, or juxtaposing works of art and design from different periods.
Fashion and interiors have always, and will remain, inextricably linked, especially in a world where image is everything, and where a well-styled public persona can disguise mediocrity and often, even, trump real talent in terms of commercial success. However, as regards the great couturiers, whose originality and exceptional creativity shine through, their numerous homes are often intensely personal reflections of their inner psyche, reflecting multiple many facets of their complex personalities.
French artist Françoise Gilot had to work all the harder to maintain an autonomous presence in an art world that failed to take women seriously. Though Gilot’s early paintings show a clear cubist bent, clearing her mind of the past, including, one would pressume, her relationship with Picasso, she would later resolutely declare, “I don’t believe in influences”.
In an internet-driven society where we’re used to instant gratification, it might be nice if terms such as “luxury” and “exclusivity” become associated once more with artisanal craftsmanship and originality, not merely the cachet of big-name brands such as Hermès, Cartier and, in terms of the counterculture zeitgeist, Supreme, Palace Corteiz and Clints
As the proverb goes, “Old money whispers; new money shouts”, but in truth, only those with an ear attuned to the inherent intricacies of social mores, will recognise whether, in terms of the former, a penchant for “quiet luxury” apropos fashion and interiors stems from inherent refinement, or, simply a complete and total lack of confidence.
Arguably, in terms of architecture and interior design, America is far less encumbered by the UK or France by its past and those associated societal rules and customs that can sometimes seem stifling in terms of breaking out of a prescribed or predetermined mould.
In terms of advertising and unbridled creativity, the work of French architect Philippe Starck embodied eighties Paris like that of no other designer, and it’s perhaps of little surprise that those gate-keepers of great Parisian galleries have come to realise his art-historical significance.
The term “posh” should be relegated to this history books, as it is, in effect, either a redundant term of inverse snobbery, used as a means of putting “class traitors” in their place or as some peculiar, almost deferential term of art used as shorthand to describe those things, be it furniture, clothing, paintings, sculpture, even hairstyles, that are apparently considered outwith the reach of the average Joe; a throwback to an era when, by and large, those who could afford luxury goods were from intergenerational wealth.
Swiss sculptor Alberto Giacometti (1901-1966) was somewhat unusual in that, at a time when there was a chasm between the fine and decorative arts, with the latter looked down upon as somehow inferior and lacking merit, he ignored naysayers, and, throughout his illustrious career, supplied vases, furnishings and lamps to a select coterie of decorators and collectors who shared and appreciated his unique aesthetic vision.
When it comes to interiors, clients can, often, be incredibly difficult, especially when it comes to budget, as for those decorators that wish to work with skilled artisans and craftsmen, it takes more than snaring clients in the 0.01%. While a good many of the world’s “super-rich” might think nothing of splashing out on the latest Ferrari or limited edition Patek Philippe watch, they wouldn’t, necessarily, appreciate, or, for that matter, care, about the difference between bronze finishes or the quality of boiserie.
There should be a far greater emphasis, across the length and breadth of the interiors sector, on pushing boundaries and focusing on quality and originality over cheap, fleeting thrills, or else we risk a bland, uninspired monoculture whereby every up-and-coming designer strives for nothing more than aping that which has gone before them.
Even within his own lifetime Piero Portaluppi was something of a discreet, understated figure, he didn’t have a school, he wasn’t a teacher and to put it bluntly, one could very easily write a history of twentieth-century architecture without mentioning his work. Of course, on a micro level, Milan wouldn’t be what it is today without Portaluppi, and it would be impossible to write a history of its urban landscape without making extensive reference to the architect’s immeasurable contribution.
In its endless pursuit of “cool”, our society has evolved into something of a “smile-button culture”, whereby we wear the latest fashions and drive the best cars so as to project a publicly perceived image of affluence and living life to the hilt. Communities, traditions, and even whole histories are being exploited with the sole purpose of promoting products, which in turn results in a bland, uninspired monoculture.
When one thinks of Swiss sculptor Alberto Giacometti, the image that immediately springs to mind is that of his arresting post-war works, expressing the deepest of human concerns; but he was once an acclaimed Surrealist, producing drawings and sculptures that appear dreamlike and hallucinatory, puzzling and metaphorical, even unsparingly barbarous.
There needs to be a wholesale rethink of the way in which we approach architectural history, and a realization, that in terms of design, sexuality as an innate part of our being does “matter” when it comes to the way in which LGBTQ+ artists and designers react to and approach the world around them.
