{"id":5170,"date":"2019-06-25T09:00:32","date_gmt":"2019-06-25T16:00:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/fashionhistorian.net\/blog\/?p=5170"},"modified":"2019-06-23T19:55:57","modified_gmt":"2019-06-24T02:55:57","slug":"notes-on-camp-an-exhibition-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fashionhistorian.net\/blog\/2019\/06\/25\/notes-on-camp-an-exhibition-review\/","title":{"rendered":"Notes on Camp: An Exhibition Review"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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The Final Galleries of the Met’s current exhibition, Notes on Camp<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Editors Note:<\/strong> I am pleased to share Nadine’s Stewart’s review of the Met Costume Institute’s Annual Spring exhibition Camp: Notes on Fashion<\/strong>.<\/em> <\/strong>Critical reviews are always hard to write, and so often they aren’t.<\/em> I’m grateful to Nadine for writing this review<\/em>. Enjoy!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Nadine L. Stewart<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Camp: Notes on Fashion<\/a><\/em><\/strong> (through September 8, 2019), this spring\u2019s offering from the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is a visual exploration of an essay written by critic Susan Sontag in 1964. Sontag was writing at a time when gay culture was rarely discussed seriously. Stonewall and the advent of the gay rights movement was five years in the future. So, this view of style and taste was novel when it appeared in the Partisan Review. Sontag acknowledged that \u201ccamp\u201d was a difficult subject to define, writing \u201cthe essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.\u201d She added that Camp could serve as a signal, a code for certain groups, like gay subcultures in cities at a time when coming out as gay could be dangerous. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, writing about Camp is one thing: defining it clearly is another. Sontag lists 58 different definitions. Reading them and trying to remember and apply them as one goes through this exhibit of 250 items is a task that can only end in frustration. It is best to enjoy the excess on display and not be too analytical. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That said, the first part of the exhibit, which attempts to trace the origins of Camp, is the most interesting. The first thing one sees is a small bronze from the Renaissance posed in \u201cthe contrapposto stance\u201d\u2014one hand on the hip thrust to the side. This is the \u201cBeau Ideal,\u201d the perfect male body in the Camp lexicon. After looking at the ideal body and pose, one moves into the next set of galleries which show Camp\u2019s origins in the seventeenth century. Louis XIV the Sun King of France, and his gay brother Philippe, also known as \u201cMonsieur,\u201d are shown here along with prints of court masques and festivities where the costumes were over the top. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Portrait of d’\u00c9on by Thomas Stewart (1792), at the National Portrait Gallery<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

I found the story of Chevalier d\u2019Eon (1728-1810) more fascinating, probably because I had never heard of this French diplomat and soldier who lived openly as a woman in England. The portrait of the Chevalier decked out in a top hat sporting the cockade of the Revolution, and a print of him fencing in pants under a full skirt are fascinating glimpses of the life of the first openly trans man in British history. Unfortunately, there is no mention of Macaroni\u2019s, those \u201cpretty gentlemen\u201d who emerged in the late eighteenth century. Certainly, their dress qualifies as Camp. They occupy an important place in fashion history, and their omission is mystifying, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Eighteenth century illustration of a Macaroni (Learn More from The Costume Society<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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The narrow halls meant to emphasize secretive, hidden Camp culture in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

After several mentions of eighteenth-century cross-dressers, Oscar Wilde and Christopher Isherwood round out the historical section on Camp. Unfortunately, this part of the exhibit had low ceilings and narrow halls, which made it very crowded. It was difficult to see the works on display or read the labels. According to Curator Andrew Bolton, this is to emphasize the secret, hidden world of those who followed Camp culture in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. I found this effort to include repression in the actual design of the exhibition very annoying. I don\u2019t think it was necessary to enclose visitors in such a compressed space to make us feel \u201cthe secretive, clandestine nature of camp\u2019s origins.\u201d* I visited this exhibit three times, and every time the people in these galleries with me seemed confused and constrained. I can\u2019t imagine a person in a wheelchair who could negotiate this part of the exhibit. I found myself wondering if accessibility even came up in the planning of this part of the exhibit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next gallery, which is large and roomy, displays Sontag\u2019s Camp inspirations in the Met\u2019s collection. There are a wide range of pieces that show an interest in Art Nouveau furniture, Tiffany lamps, one of Marie Antoinette\u2019s court portraits and an eighteenth-century polonaise gown, a Caravaggio, and a Surrealist-inspired suit by Elsa Schiaparelli. Sontag\u2019s script is on a ticker at the top of the gallery and forms a prelude to the rest of the exhibit, which aims to illustrate how her essay inspires and influences Camp culture today. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Warhol’s Tomato Soup Cans alongside the Souper<\/em> dress and Sontag<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

At the rear of the gallery is an effective display of Andy Warhol\u2019s Pop Art silkscreen of Campbell Soup cans, the Campbell Soup paper dress from the 1960s, and a Warhol self-portrait. This section also features Warhol\u2019s 1964 screen test videos of Sontag herself. This section added a human element since it enabled us to actually see Sontag, the person. I wish there had been more about Sontag. Who was this person who wrote so authoritatively about taste? Her words are everywhere, but as a person, she remains a blank page. This was also one of the few places in the exhibition where pieces from 1964, the year the Camp essay was written, are shown. 1964 was a pivotal year when the forces of the decade were coming together in full force. I wish there had been more effort to place the year in perspective. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Crist\u00f3bal Balenciaga\u2019s Evening Dress (1951) and Thierry Mugler\u2019s \u2018Venus\u2019 Ensemble (autumn\/winter 1995-96) Photo: The Metropolitan Museum of Art\/BFA\/Zach Hilty <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The next section is called \u201cFailed Seriousness,\u201d another narrow hallway where garments from the past are shown with the Camp creations they inspired and displayed in windows that line both sides of the room. For example, A Lanvin-Castillo lavender tulle gown next to a Victor and Rolfe one, which is essentially the same dress turned upside down. Another pairing shows a Thierry Mugler \u201cVenus\u201d from 1995-6 which plays off the Botticelli painting Birth of Venus next to a strapless black velvet Balenciaga distinguished by a skirt lined with rows of pink ruffles. Some of the pairings like the Balenciaga-Mugler one–seem random. Quotes from Sontag\u2019s enormous list that attempted to define Camp more precisely are above each pairing. It didn\u2019t clarify the subject for me. I found myself looking up and down, trying to understand how the pairings illuminated Sontag\u2019s words. It didn\u2019t help that the voice of Judy Garland singing Over the Rainbow player repeatedly in the gallery mixed with muffled voices (who turned out to be a vast array of fashion designers) reading from the list of Camp definitions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Alessandro Michele for Gucci, Marc Jacobs P<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The final gallery has glitzy walls of double-decker vitrines on all four sides with a low cube of more vitrines in the middle. It\u2019s like a display in a luxury mall–130 garments and accessories, most from the 1980s to the present. Here all Sontag\u2019s 58 definitions could be boiled down to one word–MORE. Many of the garments in this gallery come from the ateliers of well-known designers. Bob Mackie is represented with a heavily beaded ensemble for Cher. Nearby there is a witty trompe<\/g>-l\u2019 \u0153i<\/em>l dress by Alessandro Michele for Gucci flanked by two dresses by Thom Browne. Michele is also represented with a clever take on a Grecian chiton shown next to two takes on Classical dress by Karl Lagerfeld. There is too much Moschino, at least 15 ensembles, many of them by Jeremy Scott. These garments strain to be subversive, but are simply over-the-top and not in an interesting way. A prime example something called the TV Dinner Dress, which simply ugly by the aesthetic standards of any period. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In all this glitz the scene-stealers are probably the enormous ruffled dresses created by Tomo Koizumi, a Japanese designer who was discovered on Instagram and who showed his dresses in New York in February for the first time. I couldn\u2019t fit Koizumi\u2019s clothes into any of Sontag\u2019s categories. They defy definition. I did find myself wondering about the obsession that would drive a designer to create clothing out of literally miles and miles of ruffled polyester organza. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only three African-American designers were shown, which is a huge omission. For example, I noticed a recreation of the famous \u201cbanana\u201d skirt worn by Josephine Baker in the 1920s by the late Patrick Kelly, a couturier with an extraordinary connection to Camp. He collected Black memorabilia of African-American stereotypes, such as \u201cAunt Jemima\u2019s,\u201d \u201cmammies,\u201d \u201cBlack Sambos\u201d and figures in minstrels shows. He included these images in his work in a sly, sophisticated Camp style that subverted and satirized their bigoted impact. Some of that work surely deserved inclusion here but was omitted. Why? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Patrick Kelly, \u201cEnsemble,\u201d autumn\/winter 1986-87 <\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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Josephine Baker in her famous Banana Skirt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

As I was about to leave, I noticed a small headdress in the center case which was devoted to outrageous pieces like the enormous double flamingo from the newly relaunched House of Schiaparelli (and the trademark image of the exhibit). This piece was a turban topped with a small, pile of sequined fruit. Carmen Miranda, the Brazilian film star of the 1930s and 40s, wore it. Miranda became trapped in her Camp image in the United States, which lead to the decline of her career. Her headdress is presented without a picture of Miranda or a label. Most visitors to the gallery walk by with no idea of the story behind it. There were few examples from Latin America, surely this one Latina star from the past deserved to have her story placed in context. Otherwise, why include it at all?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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That is true of the entire second section of Camp. The human element that made the history section engaging is missing. Pictures of gay culture and parades would have enlivened the final room too and given a better understanding of the place of Camp taste in society today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Camp: Notes on Fashion<\/em><\/strong> brought back the memory of another exhibit I saw several years ago at the Museum @ FIT. Fashion Underground: The World of Suzanne Bartsch<\/strong><\/a><\/em> was full of couture by the likes of John Galliano, Jean-Paul Gaultier, and Vivienne Westwood. However, it also featured wildly creative costumes created by people from a wide variety of backgrounds\u2014gay, straight, uptown, downtown, black, white\u2014to wear at Bartsch\u2019s parties. Some videos and photos gave one a visceral snapshot of the 1980s club scene. I remember being surrounded by what seemed like an endless array that showed the influence of the street, something that is missing in here. There was a wit and a sense of subversion that is lacking in Camp, no matter how beautifully crafted the couture garments are. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is the Costume Institute\u2019s most theory-driven exhibit ever, but in the end, it is simply confusing. The concept is just too ephemeral as even Sontag seems to acknowledge. Her 58th and final point in the essay gives what she calls \u201cthe ultimate Camp statement: it is good because it is awful.\u201d Then, she qualified it saying, \u201cOf course, one can\u2019t always say that.\u201d I was reminded of Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart\u2019s test for identifying hardcore pornography when I read this. He wrote simply \u201cI know it when I see it.\u201d This was also written in 1964. Both Stewart and Sontag were struggling to define very slippery concepts then. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Costume Institute has tried to define Sontag\u2019s definitions by illustrating them with actual garments, but fusing fashion and the musings of a philosopher is<\/g> difficult work<\/g>. Sontag\u2019s words defied definition in 1964, and they continue to frustrate those who try to define her today. Camp: Notes on Fashion<\/em><\/strong> does establish the subversive taste it tries to illustrate has moved from the background to the foreground of fashion. It makes one wonder how Sontag\u2019s theories will be viewed fifty years from now. Will her work still have the same respect, or will it seem tiresome and old-fashioned?<\/p>\n\n\n\n