{"id":160697,"date":"2022-07-15T14:14:53","date_gmt":"2022-07-15T18:14:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=160697"},"modified":"2022-07-21T17:02:59","modified_gmt":"2022-07-21T21:02:59","slug":"balenciaga","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2022\/07\/15\/balenciaga\/","title":{"rendered":"Balenciaga, Light Verse, and Dancing on Command"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Look 7 in Demna Gvesalia\u2019<\/span>s 2022 Balenciaga haute couture show.<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

For someone who spends most of life reading and writing, dance is a miracle. Literature twists language to get at truth, but dance circumvents it altogether. Of course, this is only true at the moment of performance; the work of dance is full of language\u2013often commands, usually unheard by the audience. Milka Djordjevich\u2019s <\/span>CORPS<\/span><\/i><\/a>, which I saw at <\/span>NY Live Arts<\/span><\/a> a couple of weeks ago, invites us to consider the interplay of communication and labor in dance. It opens with a two-word command, \u201cSnaps, go,\u201d spoken by one of six dancers in drab gym uniforms as they march into view, fingers obediently snapping. When another says \u201cno-head, go,\u201d they begin to shake their heads, still snapping. This continues, with about forty moves in different combinations\u2014from sources including military drill, ballet, and cheerleading\u2014for the first half of the piece. (My personal favorite was \u201cpointers,\u201d a raffish shaking of double finger-guns that I plan to try at my cousin\u2019s wedding). It\u2019s a strangely anarchic, nonhierarchical performance of command-giving: any dancer can call the next move, and the official vocabulary is interspersed with chatty asides. Controlling their own collective fate, they still end up doing things that none of them seem to want\u2014like jumping up and down for what feels like ten minutes, breathless, awaiting instruction. Anyone who has had a job, or a family, will recognize the inertia of the group project. In the second half, the drill team, now in gold-spangled, softly jingling, not-quite-matching costumes, begins a magnificent disintegration, each dancer interpreting the moves from the first sequence in their own ways, then getting weirder, ultimately collapsing into a pile on the floor. There they chat, all speaking at once, repeating everyday phrases until they morph into new ones (\u201cin or out\/in and out\/In-N-Out\/have you been to In-N-Out?\/best burgers\u2026\u201d). This psychedelic segment is a bit more exciting than the flawed austerity that precedes it, but you can\u2019t choose a favorite\u2014each half relies on the other for meaning.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2014Jane Breakell, development director<\/strong><\/p>\n

For his 1973 anthology <\/span>The Oxford Book of Light Verse<\/span><\/i>, W.\u2009H. Auden included poetry that took as its subject \u201cthe everyday social life of its period or the experiences of the poet as an ordinary human being.\u201d The collection, which includes Byron and Pope, confirms that \u201clightness\u201d doesn\u2019t preclude \u201cgreatness.\u201d I wonder: would Auden consider Tim Key\u2019s <\/span>Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush<\/span><\/i><\/a> light verse? Certainly, it tackles contemporary social life from the perspective of an everyman\u2014it takes place during COVID lockdown in London, featuring a poet-narrator who traipses around the capital while talking on his iPhone.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The book, subtitled \u201can anthology of poems and conversations,\u201d is difficult to classify. It has theatrical and fantastical touches, and Key revels in an absurdity that verges on nonsense poetry\u2014but this isn\u2019t that. Maybe if you squint a bit\u2014or a lot\u2014you could call it <\/span>vers de soci\u00e9t\u00e9<\/span><\/i>. As with Key\u2019s <\/span>first lockdown anthology<\/span><\/a>, I felt I was encountering a comic novel. It\u2019s a preposterous volume, in which \u201cthe Poet\u201d is contemptuous, rash, insecure, ridiculous, and farcically ordinary. His personality comes through so strongly in these pages that it\u2019s easy to<\/span> imagine him delivering each line, exasperated mumbles and all<\/span>. Here\u2019s a silly example, from \u201cLeaning\u201d:<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0The government banned leaning.<\/span>
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u201cWhat the -?!\u201d<\/span>
\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0I could barely believe what I was reading on<\/span>
\nwww.bbc.co.uk\/news\/uk<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Light verse, indeed, from our Byronic hero! In some happy corner of my mind, Auden is alive, back in that dive on Fifty-Second\u00a0Street. But this time, he\u2019s not beleaguered by \u201cnegation and despair,\u201d and there\u2019s no war in Europe\u2014neither his generation\u2019s nor ours. This time, he\u2019s just reading a bit of Tim Key and giggling.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2014Robin Jones, business manager<\/strong><\/p>\n

My love of clothes has always appeared to me merely as a secondary surface effect of another medium\u2014film, photography, music, history\u2014and \u201cstyle\u201d as a persona\u2014noir heroine, Spring Breaker\u2014with which to accessorize my own personality. I never really liked Fashion, in the proper sense, until I watched Balenciaga\u2019s <\/span>51st couture show<\/span><\/a>, which was streamed to the public last week from Paris. The show, staged on snow white carpets in a recreation of Cristobal Balenciaga\u2019s original couture salon, is a mesmerizing dramatization of the gesture of interpretation: Demna Gvasalia\u2019s almost campily pure pageant of Fashion signifies nothing but itself, reducing clothes to abstractions of the medium\u2019s elementary materials\u2014shape, texture, movement.<\/span><\/p>\n

There are inflated ballgowns and hyper-architected trench coats, but also T-shirts, the comparative structurelessness of which is illustrated via hyperbolic rumples in the fabric. All of the looks somehow amplify classical silhouettes, either by literally magnifying their proportions, or alienating the form from its fabric. The first half dozen are dresses, suits, and coats rendered in a black rubber that makes them look literally un-textured, like a 3D-model that has yet to be assigned a material. The next couple looks repeat many of the same silhouettes, only \u201ccolored in\u201d\u2014with sparkly tweeds, for example. This progression makes these fabrics more sparkly, more tweed-y, more Platonically themselves than they\u2019d otherwise appear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Much of the show\u2019s dramatic arc is structured by this kind of evolution from ideal to particular. The first thirty-eight models wear shiny, insect-like masks. The various kinds of gimp-y black face coverings that Demna has made his signature have often read to me as embarrassingly \u201cedgy\u201d in their evocation of fetishwear\u2014but in the context of his hyper-couture, the masks don\u2019t \u201cread\u201d at all: instead, they successfully evacuate the clothes of content, allowing them to figure as impersonal animations of Fashion itself. The final models are unmasked, an inversion which elevates their faces into something like masks, casting the real people (many of them celebrities) as iconic versions of themselves.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rather than <\/span>digital<\/span><\/a>, everything in the video looks virtual, which is to say perfectly idealized. Watching it on my laptop, I had the uncanny feeling of accessing a world more high-resolution\u2014with cleaner lines, more fabric-like fabrics, more highly characterized characters\u2014than my actual life: muddled, glitchy, pixelated by comparison.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2014Olivia Kan-Sperling, assistant editor<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/a>

“Drill Glossary,” from a pamphlet designed by Ella Gold for Milka Djordjevich’s CORPS.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We recommend Milka Djordjevich\u2019s choreography, Tim Key\u2019s poems, and Demna Gvasalia\u2019s 2022 haute couture show.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[68386],"tags":[3806,68482,67827,883,68481],"class_list":["post-160697","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-reviews-review","tag-balenciaga","tag-contemporary-dance","tag-featured","tag-staff-picks","tag-tim-key"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nBalenciaga, Light Verse, and Dancing on Command by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"July 15, 2022 \u2013 We recommend Milka Djordjevich\u2019s choreography, Tim Key\u2019s poems, and Demna Gvasalia\u2019s 2022 haute couture show.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" 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