At the risk of sounding like Choupette, I venture forth into the next deep valley of text.
On a balmy spring evening, I happened upon a grand NYC townhouse in the final minutes of its grand opening, which had once been the fabled headquarters of Wildenstein and Company. It turned out to be the resplendent flagship of LGDR, whose black consonants read as loudly as SPQR, which was once the calling card of Ancient Rome.
Perhaps what set the stage for the exhibit I was about to see several times was taking the escalator down from the second level of the Deutsche Bank Center on Columbus Circle to the first floor, behind the colossal Fernando Boteros.
Urs Fischer’s life-size recreations in wax of some of the greatest sculptural works in Western history, set aflame as candles at the tips of tiny wicks, represent the slow burn of memory. In “Divine Interventions” (a work commissioned for the exhibit, recreating an ancient Roman copy of an ancient Greek sculptural group of the Three Graces, as well as a life-sized portrait of the collector responsible for the Metropolitan having the work which was copied, Pauline Karpidas), memory and existence gradually erode. As they dribble, drip, and melt, time rushes on, and the void left by the faux marble heads is filled with air. Many critics have argued that the standout piece of this exhibit was Felix Vallotton’s “Study of Buttocks” and that it was the most beautiful work in the exhibit. I believe they mainly meant it was the juiciest steak, a canvas he painted when he was only nineteen. The exhibit featured a wide range of artists, covered extensive ground, and showcased a bold visual foundation. What truly amazed was the gallery’s ability to acquire such works. What tied together the Vallotton, Fischer, Botero, and other standout works was their tactile nature on a subject that is inherently tactile.
The gallery referenced Caspar David Friedrich’s “Traveller Looking Over the Sea of Fog” (1818), which introduced the concept of ‘Ruckensfigur’ to the visual history’s lexicon. LGDR, unable to secure an appropriate Friedrich piece, ensured they displayed some of Anselm Kiefer’s photographs investigating the post-WW2 German psyche via the artist’s role-playing.
Karl Lagerfeld and his pet Choupette were celebrated on the red carpet, and those of us observing from below were also offered a rear view. Notably, pets were only permitted on the red carpet if they were paying tribute to Choupette.
Stepping off the train, it might seem that New York was all about bad fashion and violence, but in the realm of high-fashion nostalgia, the dominant color palette this season was black and white, punctuated by occasional bright splashes.
At the risk of sounding like Choupette, there was no risk of finding Choupette. The actual cat was last spotted on a plush bed in Paris lounging with Kim Kardashian. However, the Met Gala did witness feline-themed arrivals: Jared Leto in an oversized Choupette suit, embracing Lizzo, while Doja Cat appeared adorned with feline prosthetics. From a distance, Lil Nas X resembled the Silver Surfer, but up close, he was a silver cat, masked and detailed.
The event was an elegant affair all around. The beauty of fashion was evident in sweeping gowns, and for once, most celebrities nailed their outfits, mainly in black and white.
Rihanna arrived, reminiscent of a Franz West piece, enveloped in a voluminous white structure. But ASAP Rocky soon revealed her in a couture floral extravaganza by the House of Valentino, in tribute to Lagerfeld. The couple made a fashionably late entrance, with Rihanna admitting she attended solely for her dress.
Jeremy Pope displayed not his physique, but the extensive train of his dress, adorned with a large black and white portrait of Lagerfeld. In contrast, Lil Nas X flaunted his silver-painted rear.