The September Issue

But is it art?

But is it art?

I might as well be asking the answer to the ultimate question of life, the Universe, and everything!

Which we already know it’s 42.

I want to expand on what we talk about last week in The Hunger Games.

This quote sums it up pretty well. Art is hard to define. It’s like explaining to someone what falling in love is.

Humans have spent millennia trying to explain what it means to be in love. We see it in art, in poetry, in sculptures, in dance, plays, in emotions and tears. But all it really conveys is a feeling deep within. Not anything logical, but a gut stirring, an unexplainable sensation of both stomach-sinking, and body-lifting.

Words always seem to fall short.

Some new images of Vintage Vogue magazine covers.

Yes, Vogue was always fashion, but was it always art? Did it lose some of its vision?

Even Salvador Dalí did a cover for Vogue at some point!

So is it art?

Does Dalí’s art cheapen because it’s on the cover of a fashion magazine? Or does it actually enrich the value of the magazine?

We see that the motif has always been there. A beautiful model with beautiful makeup and clothes. There’s a shape, a certain kind of sculpturing to the image. Lighting, angles, colors, textures, an overall feel to it that is very pleasing and attractive to the eye.

Did things change that much today?

We can still see a beautiful model, although they’ve heavily swapped for the known face of a celebrity. We still get beautiful makeup and clothes. There is still a certain level of sculpturing to the image. Lighting, angles, colors, textures, an overall feel that is pleasing.

But I feel modern covers have been washed over with a kind of flatness. Do you agree?

I showed these images last week. And Here are the same from other magazine covers.

How do the magazines set themselves apart from each other? Am I ultimately picking up the same magazine regardless of name brand? There is no identity, no flavor, no spice, no vision behind these covers.

And look at how they’re covered with words. Practically swallowing the celebrity whole.

It’s not enough we’re being enticed into buying a celebrity on the cover, but now I have to be bombarded by headlines competing to catch my attention.

I can’t define art, but I know this isn’t it.

Is that a fair statement though?

Annie Leibovitz is a very famous portrait photographer. She has photographed countless celebrities, and she prominently featured in Vogue magazine for her celebrity portraits.

I love portrait art and this isn’t a dig at Leibovitz at all, buuuuuuuuut, notice how she’s a PORTRAIT artist? Not a fashion one?

One of my favorite Vogue spreads was with Kirsten Dunst as Marie Antoinette. I thought it was beautiful!

And we can’t deny the artistry. The costumes, poses, color palette, costumes, everything was beautiful and worked. And it helps that I love that movie.

We get a beautiful image for the cover, then we get robbed of it by the sheer amount of words covering the image.

I think we lost the plot. We can do better. We deserve better.

I love fashion as a form of art, soft sculpture, and self-expression.

I don’t care for the judgmental aspect of it. “Oh you’re not wearing the latest fashion? I spent $30,000 on my Birkin bag? You didn’t?”. Piss off!

Fashion is deeply personal and should be celebrated, not as an elite symbol of money, status, and how well you can follow the crowd. But as a way of self-expression, individuality, confidence, and self-love.

There is something to be said about dressing and feeling your best. I know this is not accessible to everyone. I understand mental health issues play a colossal part in our ability to feel confident. And I believe a huge influence of that is the beauty industry, and its ability to cheapen the human experience into the “right” makeup, hair, and outfit.

Fashion should maintain its art status, not because only the elite get to decide what is art, like they do in art galleries, but because we decide that in this wild and precious life we are the works of art.

We are the work of art in progress, in its messy stages, and yet still beautiful, still worthy of admiration, still worthy of stirring something within.

I may not be able to define art, but I know it when I feel it. And I deserve to feel it in me.

With much love and art,

Icaro