Imagine being the model forced to navigate the Viktor & Rolf haute couture runway swallowed up in a tower of Cubist polo shirts. Maybe she was relieved no one could see her face; maybe she felt like a work of art; maybe she wondered whether she was defining a disruptive fashion moment.
As self-described “fashion artists,” Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren once again tested the limits of wearability while winking at the most radical art movement in recent history. Right from the first exit they revealed their intention, altering a simple white tennis dress by warping its hemline and tacking on a face that was unmistakably Cubist. Like a progression of Surrealist studies, the technical piqué creations turned more and more outrageous, boasting the types of details that would have made Apollinaire smile. The material volumes thrust outward in faceted relief, just as they spiraled, ruffled, and projected into space. They bowed to Braque’s collages and blew a kiss to Matisse’s cutouts and fluttering “little cubes.” Picasso was omnipresent: In some instances, the faces felt Dora Maar distorted; in others, the impression was feminine Françoise. Eyes and boobs became indistinguishable—a device Magritte toyed with repeatedly. Masklike breastplates channeled Cubism’s infatuation with primitive art. Clothes often get described as sculptural; Horsting and Snoeren aimed for sculptures (set atop Dr. Martens).
But the collection would have amounted to little more than an exercise in well-executed appropriation were it not for the 3-D construction and impressive pattern work. Snoeren used the word rigorous to describe the process and explained how the all-white lineup permitted a likeness to plaster or marble. The effect, however, was delightfully spontaneous. One intriguing constant in their designs is a particular emotional detachment. You can never be sure whether they are expressing a concept with extreme seriousness or reveling in the absurdity. This time, the recorded music was Radiohead’s “Creep” sung by a Belgian girls’ choir, as if giving voice to these disfigured forms. Yet among the 22 looks, the early dresses weren’t actually so Coucou Bazar. Nor were they entirely out of reach; a capsule collection of 100 tops and tunics will be available for order at Moda Operandi as of Saturday. Ready-to-wear–able art might just be a movement in the making.
