The word obsessive often punctuates a conversation with Marni’s Francesco Risso, the concept being sometimes reinforced by the use of the term compulsive. This is telling of the peculiar tension that tinges every aspect of Risso’s work; a relentless, almost spiraling reiteration of themes and meanings seems to be inherent to his aesthetic. Yet his recurrent obsessions are often hybridized and crossbred with disparate sources of inspiration. Resort highlighted this attitude rather compellingly.
While prepping for the collection, Risso found an equally obsessive-compulsive match. It came in the quite extravagant form of an antique Victorian album of collaged images: a rare, gem-like object made in 1856 by an aristocratic English lady, who cut-and-pasted photographs, magazine clippings, postcards, and family mementos. The ornate book was probably intended as a celebration of the marriage of her daughter; at that time, such exquisite domestic works of art were meticulously composed by women in the luxurious privacy of their upper-class mansions, serving as treasured narratives of the family’s history. Yet for all of their touching naïveté, those handmade scrapbooks can actually be considered as early examples of mixed-media artistic collages and cut-outs, an art form powerfully embraced in more modern times by female artists including the likes of Hannah Höch, Annette Messager, Nancy Spero, and Kara Walker. Also: That quiet, deeply human cut-and-paste process had a sort of prescient quality, as the very same creative attitude defines today’s fashion aesthetic, where slicing apart references and templates and then reconfiguring images, shapes, and identities has become an integral part of our visual language.
The Victorian album’s fastidious juxtapositions have a hypnotic quality that clearly resonates with Risso’s aesthetic compulsions. “It was the best mood board ever. Mesmerizing,” he enthused. Risso translated its visual feast into pyrotechnical, dense floral camouflage prints (“like a crazily tended garden,” he said) that flared up rounded, pouf-shaped, voluminous dresses. Playful and romantic in equal measure.
The assemblages also brought about suggestions of an aristocratic past, when sports were infused with formal elegance. Hence elongated, lanky, sporty-not-sporty silhouettes twisted Marni-style into hybridized specimens, like knife-pleated tennis midi skirts in blown-up pastel houndstooth paired with shrunken equestrian jackets, or gigantic racing-inspired stripes in bubblegum pink printed across a fluid oversize tunic topping trailing palazzo pants, or else a boxing robe/dressing gown lusciously tied with a satin bow and dripping with sequins.
Risso’s one-of-a-kind time machine worked here filtering the past (or the “pills of the remote,” as he cryptically called it) through a quirky lens: “Going backward instead of going forward,” he quipped. Indeed, the collection felt like flipping à rebours through a fashion history manual. The 1930s-inspired, dynamic looks gradually gave way to sumptuous, turn-of-the-century crinolines surmounted by couture-inspired voluminous tops, draped peplum dresses, or trapeze opera coats dotted with humongous round plastic sequins. Collapsed linings in contrasting colors and love knot belts in gilded brass added a capricious decorative flair, while corsets layered over extra-large masculine shirts, looked fit for a seditious Marie Antoinette.
It all could’ve been rather bonkers; yet the collection’s mercurial, lopsided romanticism actually made perfect sense.
