Theme

dekonstruktivisme:

Martin Margiela, installation view of the exhibition ‘9/4/1615’, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 6 June17 August 1997. 

In 1997 Martin Margiela worked in collaboration with a microbiologist on an exhibition of his work at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam.  Margiela recreated in white one outfit from each of the eighteen collections he had designed to date. The clothes were than saturated with agar, a growing medium, and sprayed with green mould, pink yeast or fuchsia or yellow bacteria, and housed in specially constructed greenhouses in the museum’s grounds for four days while the moulds and bacteria grew on the clothes. They were then displayed on Stockman dummies in a row along the outside wall of a glass and steel modernist pavilion in the museum, ranged along the external glass wall like melancholy ghosts, their textiles fluttering in the breeze, giving new life to garments that were, paradoxically, revivified by the deatly process of mould and decay. Benign sentinels in their tattered, secondhand clothes, the eighteen mannequins along the glass wall evoked a ghostly presence that brought the past into the present. Although Margiela’s deconstructions often made his clothes look completely modern, in this installation there were curious and unexpected historical resonances. Many of the styles were surprisingly Napoleonic, adding to the ghostly impression of a troop of people from a previous age: a pea jacket, thigh boots, Empire-line dresses. A more Victorian connotation was evoked by the 1950s ball gown split down the front: tattered, mouldy, blowing gently in the breeze, it suggested what could have been Miss Haversham’s wedding dress given a new and unexpected life. 

When first exhibited in June the garments were still wet and fluffy with new mould; by August the wind and sun had bleached and weathered them, leaving a mottled tracery of decay on their surface, as if they had just been disinterred from a rusty trunk and hung up to air. Spots of mildew, mould and bacteria traced patterns on the two 1940s tea gowns stitched together, a false platina of age grown in a few days on fifty-year-old dresses. In these garments Margiela changed the rules of time, grew something ‘old’ overnight (the moulds), made something new and modern (the deconstructed dress) out of old things and then layered one on top of the other. 

Martin Margiela, installation view of the exhibition ‘9/4/1615’, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 6 June17 August 1997. 

In 1997 Martin Margiela worked in collaboration with a microbiologist on an exhibition of his work at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam.  Margiela recreated in white one outfit from each of the eighteen collections he had designed to date. The clothes were than saturated with agar, a growing medium, and sprayed with green mould, pink yeast or fuchsia or yellow bacteria, and housed in specially constructed greenhouses in the museum’s grounds for four days while the moulds and bacteria grew on the clothes. They were then displayed on Stockman dummies in a row along the outside wall of a glass and steel modernist pavilion in the museum, ranged along the external glass wall like melancholy ghosts, their textiles fluttering in the breeze, giving new life to garments that were, paradoxically, revivified by the deatly process of mould and decay. Benign sentinels in their tattered, secondhand clothes, the eighteen mannequins along the glass wall evoked a ghostly presence that brought the past into the present. Although Margiela’s deconstructions often made his clothes look completely modern, in this installation there were curious and unexpected historical resonances. Many of the styles were surprisingly Napoleonic, adding to the ghostly impression of a troop of people from a previous age: a pea jacket, thigh boots, Empire-line dresses. A more Victorian connotation was evoked by the 1950s ball gown split down the front: tattered, mouldy, blowing gently in the breeze, it suggested what could have been Miss Haversham’s wedding dress given a new and unexpected life. 

When first exhibited in June the garments were still wet and fluffy with new mould; by August the wind and sun had bleached and weathered them, leaving a mottled tracery of decay on their surface, as if they had just been disinterred from a rusty trunk and hung up to air. Spots of mildew, mould and bacteria traced patterns on the two 1940s tea gowns stitched together, a false platina of age grown in a few days on fifty-year-old dresses. In these garments Margiela changed the rules of time, grew something ‘old’ overnight (the moulds), made something new and modern (the deconstructed dress) out of old things and then layered one on top of the other. 

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Angelo Figus spring—summer 2001.

Angelo Figus spring—summer 2001.

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Annemie Verbeke autumn—winter 1999—00.
Annemie Verbeke has a ‘thing’ about tricot. Back in 1979 she found herself at the Belgian Breigoed (Knitwear) Federation, where for some time she compiled trend books for the Belgian industry, together with Martin Margiela, amongst others. She especially made a name for herself with her own knitwear collection, which she continued for six seasons, starting in 1987. Later she entered the prêt-à-porter trade, developing a great many activities. In addition, she became (and still is) a colour consultant in London and Paris, and began teaching at La Cambre’s styling atelier. 
In 1999 she launched a completely new line: tricot with woven pieces added. Her new collection is lightweight, simple, sensitive, refreshing, poetic and, at the same time, comfortable. Material and colour, and their interrelationship, are very much in evidence, shapes are always simple. 
Anne Verbeke is always searching for what is intense, tactile, with traditional and high-tech fabrics alike, whilst continuing to be a master in the creation of colour, thanks to her long experience in that field.
She deserves her aesthetics from her keen observation of reality and the resulting reveries. She seeks to combine the concrete and the artistic, and to generate dynamism from that, creating a coherent picture. 
She herself describes her clothing as a renewed — or progressive — classical silhouette. 
Annemie Verbeke: Not long ago I saw a woman of about 75 in Flagey Square: she was wearing a K-way, with a jumper underneath and a skirt that was just below the knee… she looked exactly the way I’d like my collection to look. I know 99% of people don’t notice it, and she didn’t know either. It’s the street scene that appeals to me. I think a perfectly dressed woman is fantastic, but she won’t inspire me. 

Annemie Verbeke autumn—winter 1999—00.

Annemie Verbeke has a ‘thing’ about tricot. Back in 1979 she found herself at the Belgian Breigoed (Knitwear) Federation, where for some time she compiled trend books for the Belgian industry, together with Martin Margiela, amongst others. She especially made a name for herself with her own knitwear collection, which she continued for six seasons, starting in 1987. Later she entered the prêt-à-porter trade, developing a great many activities. In addition, she became (and still is) a colour consultant in London and Paris, and began teaching at La Cambre’s styling atelier. 

In 1999 she launched a completely new line: tricot with woven pieces added. Her new collection is lightweight, simple, sensitive, refreshing, poetic and, at the same time, comfortable. Material and colour, and their interrelationship, are very much in evidence, shapes are always simple. 

Anne Verbeke is always searching for what is intense, tactile, with traditional and high-tech fabrics alike, whilst continuing to be a master in the creation of colour, thanks to her long experience in that field.

She deserves her aesthetics from her keen observation of reality and the resulting reveries. She seeks to combine the concrete and the artistic, and to generate dynamism from that, creating a coherent picture. 

She herself describes her clothing as a renewed — or progressive — classical silhouette. 

Annemie Verbeke: Not long ago I saw a woman of about 75 in Flagey Square: she was wearing a K-way, with a jumper underneath and a skirt that was just below the knee… she looked exactly the way I’d like my collection to look. I know 99% of people don’t notice it, and she didn’t know either. It’s the street scene that appeals to me. I think a perfectly dressed woman is fantastic, but she won’t inspire me. 

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Jurgi Persoons autumn—winter 1999—00.
His designs are quite extreme and can be disturbing and arouse controversy, yet this is what makes them fascinating. Slanting hems, tweed combined with snake skin, tartan checks with finely worked embroideries create a style which is on the verge of bad taste. But despite taking these risks, his clothes are not ugly. The way in which his clothes are presented, especially in photographs, reflects the mood of his collection, leaving a forceful and unforgettable impression. 
With each new collection, Jurgi Persoons refers to human characteristics, sentiments, situations, convictions, radical attitudes and their emotional impact. His universe raises questions, rather than giving judgments. 
Jurgi Persoons combines a naive sense of humour with aggressive contrasts. As he states it: “People’s aspirations for a certain ideal appearance often transpire through the mistakes they make in the search for that ideal, and that is exactly what interests me most, because their failing efforts often produce quite hyperrealistic images. It’s the tension between these imperfect attempt to create a certain image and that which is considered socially acceptable — that evokes strong reactions, like aversion or adoration.”

Jurgi Persoons autumn—winter 1999—00.

His designs are quite extreme and can be disturbing and arouse controversy, yet this is what makes them fascinating. Slanting hems, tweed combined with snake skin, tartan checks with finely worked embroideries create a style which is on the verge of bad taste. But despite taking these risks, his clothes are not ugly. The way in which his clothes are presented, especially in photographs, reflects the mood of his collection, leaving a forceful and unforgettable impression. 

With each new collection, Jurgi Persoons refers to human characteristics, sentiments, situations, convictions, radical attitudes and their emotional impact. His universe raises questions, rather than giving judgments. 

Jurgi Persoons combines a naive sense of humour with aggressive contrasts. As he states it: “People’s aspirations for a certain ideal appearance often transpire through the mistakes they make in the search for that ideal, and that is exactly what interests me most, because their failing efforts often produce quite hyperrealistic images. It’s the tension between these imperfect attempt to create a certain image and that which is considered socially acceptable — that evokes strong reactions, like aversion or adoration.”

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Veronique Branquinho autumn—winter 1998—99.
With her second collection — shown in March 1998 as her first show in Paris — her sense for mystery and a dark romanticism became even more apparent. Pleated knee-long skirts with ‘off-colour’ leggings and turtleneck sweaters were followed by pullovers in rabbit fur and heavy coats and capes with high collars. The models’ faces were pale, their teeth painted black. The atmosphere referred to the double-life of Laura Palmer in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, to the secrecy of hidden feelings and mysterious nights-out. It seems as if Veronique Branquinho entered the subconscious of girls and women and found a different world. Bringing it to the surface, she superbly blended it with the superficial appearances of ‘real life’.  This ambiguity remains a characteristic of her subsequent collections. 
Veronique Branquinho: The most important thing for me to recognise is that a woman is a very complex person… every woman has a mystery inside her. (…) I like this black side of people. Black minds, black moods, black clothes: I like the word and I like the emotion. That’s what I try to reflect. It’s romance for the doom generation.

Veronique Branquinho autumn—winter 1998—99.

With her second collection — shown in March 1998 as her first show in Paris — her sense for mystery and a dark romanticism became even more apparent. Pleated knee-long skirts with ‘off-colour’ leggings and turtleneck sweaters were followed by pullovers in rabbit fur and heavy coats and capes with high collars. The models’ faces were pale, their teeth painted black. The atmosphere referred to the double-life of Laura Palmer in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, to the secrecy of hidden feelings and mysterious nights-out. It seems as if Veronique Branquinho entered the subconscious of girls and women and found a different world. Bringing it to the surface, she superbly blended it with the superficial appearances of ‘real life’.  This ambiguity remains a characteristic of her subsequent collections. 

Veronique Branquinho: The most important thing for me to recognise is that a woman is a very complex person… every woman has a mystery inside her. (…) I like this black side of people. Black minds, black moods, black clothes: I like the word and I like the emotion. That’s what I try to reflect. It’s romance for the doom generation.

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Left from top: Coyote: I Like America and America Likes Me (1974), Joseph in fur coat, hygiene-beutel, Joseph Beuys.
Right: A.F. Vandevorst for Studio Voice, February 1999, vol. 278, Japan.
Katharina Prospekt: The Russians by A.F. Vandevorst.

Left from top: Coyote: I Like America and America Likes Me (1974), Joseph in fur coat, hygiene-beutel, Joseph Beuys.

Right: A.F. Vandevorst for Studio Voice, February 1999, vol. 278, Japan.

Katharina Prospekt: The Russians by A.F. Vandevorst.

(Source: shoulderblades)

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Martin Margiela, installation view of the exhibition ‘9/4/1615’, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 6 June—17 August 1997. 
In 1997 Martin Margiela worked in collaboration with a microbiologist on an exhibition of his work at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam.  Margiela recreated in white one outfit from each of the eighteen collections he had designed to date. The clothes were than saturated with agar, a growing medium, and sprayed with green mould, pink yeast or fuchsia or yellow bacteria, and housed in specially constructed greenhouses in the museum’s grounds for four days while the moulds and bacteria grew on the clothes. They were then displayed on Stockman dummies in a row along the outside wall of a glass and steel modernist pavilion in the museum, ranged along the external glass wall like melancholy ghosts, their textiles fluttering in the breeze, giving new life to garments that were, paradoxically, revivified by the deatly process of mould and decay. Benign sentinels in their tattered, secondhand clothes, the eighteen mannequins along the glass wall evoked a ghostly presence that brought the past into the present. Although Margiela’s deconstructions often made his clothes look completely modern, in this installation there were curious and unexpected historical resonances. Many of the styles were surprisingly Napoleonic, adding to the ghostly impression of a troop of people from a previous age: a pea jacket, thigh boots, Empire-line dresses. A more Victorian connotation was evoked by the 1950s ball gown split down the front: tattered, mouldy, blowing gently in the breeze, it suggested what could have been Miss Haversham’s wedding dress given a new and unexpected life. 
When first exhibited in June the garments were still wet and fluffy with new mould; by August the wind and sun had bleached and weathered them, leaving a mottled tracery of decay on their surface, as if they had just been disinterred from a rusty trunk and hung up to air. Spots of mildew, mould and bacteria traced patterns on the two 1940s tea gowns stitched together, a false platina of age grown in a few days on fifty-year-old dresses. In these garments Margiela changed the rules of time, grew something ‘old’ overnight (the moulds), made something new and modern (the deconstructed dress) out of old things and then layered one on top of the other. 

Martin Margiela, installation view of the exhibition ‘9/4/1615’, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 6 June—17 August 1997. 

In 1997 Martin Margiela worked in collaboration with a microbiologist on an exhibition of his work at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam.  Margiela recreated in white one outfit from each of the eighteen collections he had designed to date. The clothes were than saturated with agar, a growing medium, and sprayed with green mould, pink yeast or fuchsia or yellow bacteria, and housed in specially constructed greenhouses in the museum’s grounds for four days while the moulds and bacteria grew on the clothes. They were then displayed on Stockman dummies in a row along the outside wall of a glass and steel modernist pavilion in the museum, ranged along the external glass wall like melancholy ghosts, their textiles fluttering in the breeze, giving new life to garments that were, paradoxically, revivified by the deatly process of mould and decay. Benign sentinels in their tattered, secondhand clothes, the eighteen mannequins along the glass wall evoked a ghostly presence that brought the past into the present. Although Margiela’s deconstructions often made his clothes look completely modern, in this installation there were curious and unexpected historical resonances. Many of the styles were surprisingly Napoleonic, adding to the ghostly impression of a troop of people from a previous age: a pea jacket, thigh boots, Empire-line dresses. A more Victorian connotation was evoked by the 1950s ball gown split down the front: tattered, mouldy, blowing gently in the breeze, it suggested what could have been Miss Haversham’s wedding dress given a new and unexpected life. 

When first exhibited in June the garments were still wet and fluffy with new mould; by August the wind and sun had bleached and weathered them, leaving a mottled tracery of decay on their surface, as if they had just been disinterred from a rusty trunk and hung up to air. Spots of mildew, mould and bacteria traced patterns on the two 1940s tea gowns stitched together, a false platina of age grown in a few days on fifty-year-old dresses. In these garments Margiela changed the rules of time, grew something ‘old’ overnight (the moulds), made something new and modern (the deconstructed dress) out of old things and then layered one on top of the other. 

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Ann Huybens spring—summer 1998.
Her designs aim to combine exoticism and serenity, nostalgia and desire, chaos and peace. In concrete terms she translates this philosophy into clothes which are designed and made, literally and metaphorically, round the body.  All pieces in her collections can only be ordered to measure. She creates mainly for women, regardless of age, shape or size. 
Her collections always contain sections for afternoons, evenings and nights. Huybens intends this division into three sections to represent the circular course taken by a woman’s life. Her clothing is three-dimensional, wound in a spiral round the body, with no beginning and no end, an unceasing movement. She uses stitching, piping and contrasting colours to emphasise the seams that run round the body. Asymmetric fastenings, details and shapes ensure freedom of movement. A spiral skirt and a tango dress are typical items in her collections. The spiral skirt is a skirt with neither beginning nor end, wound in a spiral round the hips. Her tango dress has a long train that can be tied up by means of a small loop. Let’s dance! 
In her choice of fabrics she is always on the lookout for material that is kind to the skin, and so natural rather than synthetic. Organic prints, embroidery and shot fabrics supply changes in colour as the wearer moves or the light changes. The seven shades of colour appearing on the Tranche de Vie print on silk crêpe, provide an example of her favourite colours, ranging from strong colours to gentle shades. Her love for the organic is so great that she uses natural materials in her designs. Shoes for example are given a ‘drumstick’ heel or made entirely from pony or ostrich leather. (Mink shawls and feather boas, wraparound suede belt 5 metres long)
Ann Huybens: I find a man dressed in a very refined dress the height of eroticism. I go on the assumption that men have the right to wear dresses, to be able to feel very fine materials on their body. It seems to me they have even less freedom than women in how they can move and behave. 

Ann Huybens spring—summer 1998.

Her designs aim to combine exoticism and serenity, nostalgia and desire, chaos and peace. In concrete terms she translates this philosophy into clothes which are designed and made, literally and metaphorically, round the body.  All pieces in her collections can only be ordered to measure. She creates mainly for women, regardless of age, shape or size. 

Her collections always contain sections for afternoons, evenings and nights. Huybens intends this division into three sections to represent the circular course taken by a woman’s life. Her clothing is three-dimensional, wound in a spiral round the body, with no beginning and no end, an unceasing movement. She uses stitching, piping and contrasting colours to emphasise the seams that run round the body. Asymmetric fastenings, details and shapes ensure freedom of movement. A spiral skirt and a tango dress are typical items in her collections. The spiral skirt is a skirt with neither beginning nor end, wound in a spiral round the hips. Her tango dress has a long train that can be tied up by means of a small loop. Let’s dance! 

In her choice of fabrics she is always on the lookout for material that is kind to the skin, and so natural rather than synthetic. Organic prints, embroidery and shot fabrics supply changes in colour as the wearer moves or the light changes. The seven shades of colour appearing on the Tranche de Vie print on silk crêpe, provide an example of her favourite colours, ranging from strong colours to gentle shades. Her love for the organic is so great that she uses natural materials in her designs. Shoes for example are given a ‘drumstick’ heel or made entirely from pony or ostrich leather. (Mink shawls and feather boas, wraparound suede belt 5 metres long)

Ann Huybens: I find a man dressed in a very refined dress the height of eroticism. I go on the assumption that men have the right to wear dresses, to be able to feel very fine materials on their body. It seems to me they have even less freedom than women in how they can move and behave. 

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Patrick Van Ommeslaeghe autumn—winter 1999—00, spring—summer 2000, autumn—winter 2000—01, spring—summer 2001.
After a brief stint at medical school, Patrick Van Ommeslaeghe came to the conclusion that he preferred working with living and breathing bodies rather than performing autopsies on human corpses. 
He enrolled at the Fashion Design Department of the Royal Academy of Antwerp, from which he graduated in 1990. 
Between 1992 and 1996 he was Josephus Thimister’s first assistant atBalenciaga, at the same time dealing with the foreign licences of this house.
Once settled in Paris, he decided to stay. A year as an assistant to Jean-Paul Gaultier was followed by two years of being Adéline André’s right hand man.
In 1998 he returned to Balenciaga, then under the direction of Nicolas Ghesquiere, mainly dealing with the licences for Japan. 
Then, In 1999, the time had come to launch his own collection under the name Van Ommeslaeghe. His first collection for women, for winter 1999-2000, based around the concept of dignity and inspired by the painting of the Flemish Primitives, was presented in March 1999.
It met with immediate acclaim and the designer was recognised by the Association Nationale pour le Développement des Arts de la Mode au Ministère de la Culture (ANDAM), in awarding him their fashion grant. 

Patrick Van Ommeslaeghe autumn—winter 1999—00, spring—summer 2000, autumn—winter 2000—01, spring—summer 2001.

After a brief stint at medical school, Patrick Van Ommeslaeghe came to the conclusion that he preferred working with living and breathing bodies rather than performing autopsies on human corpses. 

He enrolled at the Fashion Design Department of the Royal Academy of Antwerp, from which he graduated in 1990. 

Between 1992 and 1996 he was Josephus Thimister’s first assistant atBalenciaga, at the same time dealing with the foreign licences of this house.

Once settled in Paris, he decided to stay. A year as an assistant to Jean-Paul Gaultier was followed by two years of being Adéline André’s right hand man.

In 1998 he returned to Balenciaga, then under the direction of Nicolas Ghesquiere, mainly dealing with the licences for Japan. 

Then, In 1999, the time had come to launch his own collection under the name Van Ommeslaeghe. His first collection for women, for winter 1999-2000, based around the concept of dignity and inspired by the painting of the Flemish Primitives, was presented in March 1999.

It met with immediate acclaim and the designer was recognised by the Association Nationale pour le Développement des Arts de la Mode au Ministère de la Culture (ANDAM), in awarding him their fashion grant. 

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Maison Martin Margiela spring—summer 1996.
October 1995.La Maison de la Mutualité on Paris’ left bank. The forty-four women wearing the collection walk over four refectory tables each twenty-two meters long. Bottles of red wine and white plastic cups have been placed on the tables so that the invited public can help themselves. The show has two parts. For the first part the women wear cotton muslim veils obscuring their faces; their outfits combine the garments-of-photographs-of-garments with other pieces from the collection. Only the photographic prints are worn for the second part. The women’s faces are visible and their hair down. For those who wore a print skirt their breasts are now bare; the others, who wore a print top, wear these with a simple flesh-toned slip skirt. The sound of cheerleaders punctuates the atmosphere created by the amplified sound of the women’s footsteps on the tables.  

Maison Martin Margiela spring—summer 1996.

October 1995.
La Maison de la Mutualité on Paris’ left bank. The forty-four women wearing the collection walk over four refectory tables each twenty-two meters long. Bottles of red wine and white plastic cups have been placed on the tables so that the invited public can help themselves. The show has two parts. For the first part the women wear cotton muslim veils obscuring their faces; their outfits combine the garments-of-photographs-of-garments with other pieces from the collection. Only the photographic prints are worn for the second part. The women’s faces are visible and their hair down. For those who wore a print skirt their breasts are now bare; the others, who wore a print top, wear these with a simple flesh-toned slip skirt. The sound of cheerleaders punctuates the atmosphere created by the amplified sound of the women’s footsteps on the tables.  

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Angelo Figus autumn—winter 2000—01.

Angelo Figus autumn—winter 2000—01.

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482 notes
Ann Demeulemeester spring—summer 1995.
Ann Demeulemeester: I’m preoccupied with volume, larger, looser, but in a very erotical way. I try to cut a certain sensual movement into the clothes, a casual spirit, as if something is blown apart by the wind.

Ann Demeulemeester spring—summer 1995.

Ann Demeulemeester: I’m preoccupied with volume, larger, looser, but in a very erotical way. I try to cut a certain sensual movement into the clothes, a casual spirit, as if something is blown apart by the wind.

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Rei Kawakubo 1st statement, backstage. Comme des Garçons autumn—winter 2001—02, at the Royal Athenaeum Antwerp, 26 May 2001.
First presentation of the Comme des Garçons Autumn-Winter 2001-2 collection at the Royal Athenaeum, Antwep.
The Rei Kawakubo project consists of five presentations: from 26 May to 29 September this fashion designer is showing several interpretations of her Autumn-Winter 2001-2 collection.
The presentations take place at the following locations: the Royal Athenaeum (26 May), the Royal Museum of Fine Art (22 June), the church of St Augustine (27 July), the Commodity Exchange (24 August) and the Winter Garden at the Antwerp  Zoo (29 September).
Of the five statements, the one in the Commodity Exchange at 9 p.m. on 24 August, is open to the public. Because of the limited space, admission to the other four venues is by invation only. 
All the statements are being filmed and shown throughout the project at the 2WOMEN exhibition.

Rei Kawakubo 1st statement, backstage. Comme des Garçons autumnwinter 200102, at the Royal Athenaeum Antwerp, 26 May 2001.

First presentation of the Comme des Garçons Autumn-Winter 2001-2 collection at the Royal Athenaeum, Antwep.

The Rei Kawakubo project consists of five presentations: from 26 May to 29 September this fashion designer is showing several interpretations of her Autumn-Winter 2001-2 collection.

The presentations take place at the following locations: the Royal Athenaeum (26 May), the Royal Museum of Fine Art (22 June), the church of St Augustine (27 July), the Commodity Exchange (24 August) and the Winter Garden at the Antwerp  Zoo (29 September).

Of the five statements, the one in the Commodity Exchange at 9 p.m. on 24 August, is open to the public. Because of the limited space, admission to the other four venues is by invation only. 

All the statements are being filmed and shown throughout the project at the 2WOMEN exhibition.

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Ann Demeulemeester spring—summer 1999.
How do you suggest movement? How do you un-balance a body? How do you ‘cut’ a garment that challenges gravity? These question result, with Ann Demeulemeester, in clothes that evoke the illusion of movement, even when the wearer is standing still. Trousers slip down a little, a cardigan gapes open, a draped dress exposes a shoulder: mainly impressions of a casualness that would never betray the complicated study which was often required to achieve it. 
How can I make a collection from painter’s canvas? That was the basic question behind the Summer 1999 collection. This favourite material, which she had already used for invitations, displays and even tables, was ‘translated’ into an almost exclusively white collection. The shapes, developing further on those she started for the Winter 1998-99 collection, were conceived from what Ann Demeulemeester describes as ‘zero base’, the source of the ‘shape issue’; to set aside the repertoire of traditional patterns and to confront herself with the essence of a garment: a piece of material which you can wrap around yourself. 
This ever-recurring issue, and the difficult task she has set herself, seem to be Ann Demeulemeester’s raison d’être. A ‘de-depicted’ world, which allows entirely new ideas to develop, in which a simple intervention is all-important, in which nothing disrupts the investigation of the body, or wearability. And a world in which the whole gamut of emotions evoked by a garment — from surrender to rejection, from security to alienation — can be meticulously constructed …
The cloth is holy. 

Ann Demeulemeester spring—summer 1999.

How do you suggest movement? How do you un-balance a body? How do you ‘cut’ a garment that challenges gravity? These question result, with Ann Demeulemeester, in clothes that evoke the illusion of movement, even when the wearer is standing still. Trousers slip down a little, a cardigan gapes open, a draped dress exposes a shoulder: mainly impressions of a casualness that would never betray the complicated study which was often required to achieve it. 

How can I make a collection from painter’s canvas? That was the basic question behind the Summer 1999 collection. This favourite material, which she had already used for invitations, displays and even tables, was ‘translated’ into an almost exclusively white collection. The shapes, developing further on those she started for the Winter 1998-99 collection, were conceived from what Ann Demeulemeester describes as ‘zero base’, the source of the ‘shape issue’; to set aside the repertoire of traditional patterns and to confront herself with the essence of a garment: a piece of material which you can wrap around yourself. 

This ever-recurring issue, and the difficult task she has set herself, seem to be Ann Demeulemeester’s raison d’être. A ‘de-depicted’ world, which allows entirely new ideas to develop, in which a simple intervention is all-important, in which nothing disrupts the investigation of the body, or wearability. And a world in which the whole gamut of emotions evoked by a garment — from surrender to rejection, from security to alienation — can be meticulously constructed …

The cloth is holy.