When I was younger, I would go with my mom, a high school art teacher, to prepare her room before school started. One of the tasks she always gave me was to set up the still life for her students to draw on the first day of class. I recall an animal skull, a glass bottle, a flag, and other random objects. I always enjoyed the day she would bring home her students’ drawings to grade, and I would get to see the various interpretations of the lines and shapes they saw.
To this day, I love to set up still lifes. It manifests in my home decorating. My constant rearranging of objects has to do with my desire to balance positive and negative space, something I genuinely appreciate in architecture, art, and fashion design.
Last fall, I attended a webinar, International Cristóbal Balenciaga Conference, hosted by the Cristóbal Balenciaga Museum (October 2, 2020). One of the most interesting presentations was by Ana Esther Santamaria and Sergio Roman called “Intuition beyond Japonisme: Balenciaga’s relationship with the aesthetics of emptiness”.
It finally struck me what I found appealing about the garments Balenciaga produced late in his career (1950-1968). Underlying Balenciaga’s work was the concept of silence or empty space, known as ‘ma’ in Japan. It is often evident in Japanese art and design, but it is more profound than just minimalism. It is space that is intentionally set aside and is as important as the object it surrounds.
Balenciaga’s voluminous and sculptural garments, which to some seemed almost abstract at the time, provided a space between the body and fabric. This space liberated the body and allowed it to move freely. This was unlike garments of the past that had fullness but required corsets and hoops that restricted the body’s movement. It was also in contrast to garments of the 30’s and 40’s that were uniquely cut and had movement but emphasized the curves of the figure. Balenciaga used unique cuts and masterful manipulation of the fabric to create negative space between the garment and body. The body had space, and the garment had space.
Santamaria noted that this self-restraint and ma were also evident in Balenciaga’s humble personality and how he worked.
“Silence in doing, silence in work, silence in shows, silence in the name he never actually gave to his collections.”
He was a deeply religious and generous man and made time for his close friends, but he never sought praise and attention from others. Silence gave Balenciaga the space for his mind and hand to execute and progress his ideas.
Santamaria touched on the concept of the hand’s creative power, as described by Richard Sennet in the book, The Craftsman. Balenciaga learned the craft of fine sewing from his mother, a seamstress, as an apprentice to various tailors, and as a friend and contemporary of Madeleine Vionnet. She was also a master at the cut and manipulation of fabric. Balenciaga’s training in his craft was very similar to how a craftsman’s apprentice would purposely copy his master’s work and thereby learn from repetition. The copying trains the hands and gives it the training it needs to one day become master. It is the subtle gestures that make the difference between an amateur and a professional.
His hand’s creative power became second nature, and his bold concepts a reality. He worked at all levels of couture construction – draping, pattern drafting, cutting, assembling, and finishing. Most couturiers only produce sketches and conceive ideas for designs; however, Balenciaga’s hand was present throughout the entire process. Couturiers such as Hubert Givenchy, Christian Dior, Coco Chanel, and Madeleine Vionnet deeply respected him.
“Balenciaga alone is a couturier in the truest sense of the word. Only he is capable of cutting material, assembling a creation and sewing it by hand, the others are simply fashion designers.” Coco Chanel
Cecil Beaton, the famous fashion photographer, called Balenciaga fashion’s Picasso.
This is a clever comparison as both men were Spanish, both experimented with the modern while still respecting tradition, and both had long and varied careers. It is interesting that we would even consider either of their art as abstract. It was rooted in classic lines, the balance of negative and positive space, and executed with trained craftsmen’s hands.
At what point does a craftsman become an artist? Is it when others recognize a person’s sublime gestures as a mark of superior craftsmanship and beauty? Balenciaga may not have intentionally sought Japanese philosophies for inspiration for his garments. Instead, it came to him intuitively. He achieved great things in his work because of the years and years of practice, hand and mind working together as one in silence. I think Picasso himself said it best.
“Art is not the application of a canon of beauty but what the instinct and the brain can conceive beyond any canon.”
To see examples of Balenciaga’s sculptural works of art, see the links below. Check out my next post, Balenciaga and the Paletot, where I will share my experience making a Balenciaga inspired jacket.
Links:
Balenciaga’s Sack dress (1967)
Tulip dress (1967)
https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/secrets-of-balenciagas-construction
Evening dress and cape (1967)
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