Pieter Cornelis Mondriaan, Jr., better known as Piet Mondrian, was a 20th century Dutch abstract painter best known for his compositions of rectangles of primary colors with bold black grids. He was born in 1872, in Amersfoort, a small town in central Holland. At a very young age, Mondrian was influenced by his father and uncle who were both artists. He attended the Academy of Fine Art in Amsterdam in 1892 to teach, as well as, to paint. His early paintings were landscapes and pastoral scenes of the world around him in Holland. These paintings were representational and showed the influenced of Georges Seurat's pointillism and the vibrant colors of Fauvism upon his discovery of Cubism, Mondrian's paintings became more abstract and geometric. He eventually developed a style of painting he called neo-plasticism. He returned to Paris after World War I and made his most famous painting Composition with Red, Yellow and Blue (1921), a composition of primary colors in rectangles on a grid of black lines. (Starting a revolution). Mondrian spent the last 4 years of his life in New York. He had his first and only one-man show at the Dudensing Gallery in New York when he was 70 years old. He died two years later of pneumonia.
I want to incorporate a writing excerpt from V Magazine, written by Lady Gaga, because of the bold statements and ideas she presents. But mainly because she talks YSL.
"Glam culture is ultimately rooted by an obsession, and those of us who are truly devoted and loyal to the lifestyle of glamour are masters of its history. Or, to put it more elegantly, we are librarians. I myself can look at almost any hemline, silhouette, beadwork, or heel architecture and tell you very precisely who designed it first, what French painter they stole it from, how many designers reinvented it after them, and what cultural and musical movement parented the birth, death, and resurrection of that particular trend. So dear critics and bullies: get your library cards out, because I’m about to do a reading.
An expertise in the vocabulary of fashion, art, and pop culture requires a tremendous amount of studying. My studio apartment on the LES, quite similar to many of my hotel suites now (knock on wood), was covered in inspiration.
Everything from vintage books and magazines I found at the Strand on 12th Street to my dad’s old Bowie posters to metal records from my best friend Lady Starlight to Aunt Merle’s hand-me-down emerald-green designer pumps were sprawled all over the floor about two feet from my bathroom and four inches from my George Foreman Grill. (Starlight was always jealous that mine had a bun warmer and hers didn’t.) And in my downtime, which meant whenever I wasn’t waitressing, go-go dancing, or making mixtapes for a music publishing company in Times Square, I was analyzing and studying my library. I would dream of being a rock star who dressed like Mark Bolan, walked like Jerry Hall, and had the panache of Ginger from Casino and the mystery of Isabella Blow.1 See footnote.
Any writer, or anyone for that matter, who doesn’t understand the last two sentences of this column should NEVER be writing about or critiquing fashion or artists in publication. As someone who references and annotates her work vigilantly, I am putting all of you on notice. I’ve done my homework, have you? Where are your library cards? Did they expire? When Yves Saint Laurent designed the “Mondrian” day dress for fashion week Fall/Winter 1965, did he plagiarize or revolutionize? Some people would say he was unoriginal, that he traced an iconic contemporary artwork by Piet Mondrian, and stole it for his own merits. Others may argue that by referencing something so “before its time,” he influenced an entire generation in fashion that transformed the female body with a more linear sensibility, graphics, and painterly shape. We now call it “mod.” Picasso said, “Good artists copy; great artists steal.” Maybe he only said that because he and Matisse were in a bitchy queen fight for two decades (some called it a boxing match, I call it a conversation in art). But maybe it’s just that the resolution is: art gives birth to new art. There is no chicken or egg. It’s molecular. Cells give birth to cells. To put it more bluntly, the Hussein Chalayan vessel I wore at the Grammys wasn’t inspired by a chicken. It was stolen from an egg. But the transformation, the context, and the approach taken to reinterpret the meaning of birth and rebirth in terms of fame on a fucking red carpet — this is what creates the modernity of the statement. The past undergoes mitosis, becoming the originality of the future.
The Haus of Gaga, my (our) own pop-cultural family and living Warholian factory, talked endlessly about the initial vision for “Born This Way.” On the set of the video, it was almost terrifyingly important to me that I tribute Rico (the Zombie Boy’s) tattoos, creating a visual metaphor where tattoos, along with the body modification I had been exploring, became a subcultural symbol for rebirth. Rico in this case was my Mondrian. After I put the makeup on, I found myself dancing and flailing at 9 a.m., after twenty-four hours of no sleep on set. Feeling young and free, it occurred that the makeup allowed me to erase the public’s perception of my beauty, and define it for myself. I asked Rico, “Why did you tattoo yourself this way?” (Something I imagine he’s asked quite frequently.) He said very genuinely, with no hesitation, “Bazooka gum.”2 See footnote. And just like that, as many of the creations in my brain take form, I realized, and so did the Haus, that not only did I need to reunite with my youth, i.e. “Bazooka gum,” but that my fans needed to see me in that juvenile way in order to understand the intention behind why I wrote “Born This Way.” Accompanied with a side ponytail, it took me back to moments when I was just a little baby monster. When my mother would perch a pony high on my hair and we would dance so hard to the tape deck that the perfectly perched pony she fashioned would fall to the side. I had to take an uncomfortable journey back into high school, where my youth represented tears. Wishing I had a mask. Hoping that I could artistically hide the wounds buried deep from years of being bullied. I have since reckoned with this psychology in my performance art. But this time, the revelation was clear: I still want to wear the mask, but now I wear it proud, and with the same effervescence and innocence I had when I was 6, dancing with my mom.
After I performed “Born This Way” at the Grammys, it seemed as though the piece was interpreted as an engagement for battle. And the whole performance was a battle cry in essence — for freedom against forces of inequality and prejudice. But as quickly as the song catapulted to number one, a more subtle controversy exploded. “Born This Way” was a triumph as a pop song and a social statement, but it ultimately revealed another division: the reality that the young generations’ challenges with equality and social justice are just as prevalent now as they were twenty-five years ago. And while “Born This Way” was written for every walk of life, I began to feel my youngest fans were longing to be nurtured, while others felt they already had been. Perhaps in this way the song was not for everyone, although the intention was such. And perhaps I was naïve to hope everyone would unfold the true meaning of my performance piece the way I unfolded YSL’s “Mondrian” dress. Instead, I am caught between two forces: one holding onto a ponytail, and another screaming “I don’t want to be angry, I want to be free.”
“I DON’T WANT TO BE A DRAG, I JUST WANT TO BE A QUEEN.”
I have a passionate understanding of the history of many of the references that not only I have reinspired, but have been reinterpreted over centuries of fashion: where they came from, what they meant, and specifically how they became modern again. I have concurrently shown that I could “read you” in this subject, but I would rather reckon with the fact that many are clinging tightly to cultural divisiveness and leaving home without library cards.
Just like sometimes Picasso was Matisse’s Mondrian, and vice versa. Bowie is often my Mondrian, as are Michael Jackson, Prince, Lita Ford, and Madonna. Mugler is my silhouette’s Mondrian, Cindy Crawford is my sexuality’s, Kermit is my whimsy’s, and, in my “Born This Way” video, two of my Mondrians were Francis Bacon and Salvador Dalí. In a lot of ways the “idea” of being obsessed with art is my Mondrian. Just like Campbell’s Tomato Soup was Warhol’s Mondrian, and Marilyn Monroe and Maripol were Madonna’s. I am obsessed with all the authors in the library of pop culture.
I do not define, however, my artistry or historical relevance with one particular fashion or musical statement. And I don’t believe any of the artists I mentioned do either. Rather, I find freedom in my ability to transform and liberate myself (and others) with art and style — because those are the things that freed me from my sadness, from the social scars. Furthermore, I am in no way encouraging anyone to emulate my fashion sense, but rather setting a, hopefully, liberating example for anyone to look inside and know they can become any image or projection imaginable. I am an obsessed pop cultural expert. And, perhaps, between my music, performance art, and this column, I will be remembered as such. After weeks of writing this article I asked out loud, “What do you think YSL would think of my metaphor about his collection?” My darling hair designer Frederic replied, “You could ask Nan Kempner, but she’s dead.” Now that’s a queen who never left home without her library card."
The idea that Gaga is eluding to is that the Mondrian is a symbol of individuality but also representative of your passions, interests and the things that define you.
You may be thinking, what is my Mondrian?
Is it my love for fashion? My passion for writing? My eye for style and trends? My designs?
The sketches and drawings and ideas that I live for and would die protecting?
Is it my music?
The piano? Traveling?
More importantly, I want to ask what your Mondrians are. What are they?
Are they your family? Your kids? Your husband? Your wife? You friends? Your job? Your education? Your favorite bar? Your favorite story? Your house? Your pets? Your music? Your imagination? Your favorite vacation destination?
Your future?
My objective is not to just have the entry consist of just questions. But with questions comes answers. This is what really gives my blog life. My words come to life. One of my goals is to ask questions that make you think. I hope I have been a bit successful.
Perhaps Gaga is saying that it could be all of them. Is the Mondrian Dress really a symbol of just, passion in general? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Lady Gaga is simply saying that the not one thing can define us. Not our looks, not our clothes, not our music playlist or the amount of money we have in our pocket. Not how many friends we have on Facebook or how many of them like your profile picture. The Mondrian is all. The Mondrian dress is, as Saint Laurent planned would be, a revolution. I have empathy for Gaga with her Born This Way performance. Millions of people wrote her off as a freak but more importantly, millions of people understood and related to it. The world is so connected but as Newton's law says, for every reaction there is an opposite and equal reaction. There is a constant, opposite force of separation from interdependence and the individuality and by the different colored Mondrian Dresses worn by the 8 billion people in the world. Each person paints their dress differently. Mine is colored different than yours. Just as my interests and beliefs differ from yours. I believe in God, peace, love, happiness, being nice, acceptance and unity. I do not stand for violence, judgement, anger, greed or bullying. Perhaps you think that harsh criticism or tough competition makes you better. I am only competitive with myself. I see beauty in everything. I'm different. Love makes me stronger. A peaceful, equal and happy world is my motivation. My friends, family and my music inspire me.
I don't need drugs or alcohol to make me feel better or to take me away from the reality we live in. I use my own creativity to do that. I use my imagination. I honor and respect it.
My imagination is an endless pit of creativity that constantly reproduces different ideas, giving re-birth to old ones and giving birth to new ones.
It is important to live for those ideas that matter most to you. Bring them to life.
Through fashion, art, music, drawing, painting, sewing, telling jokes, spending time with your family, going on a walk with your friend, over the internet, a blog, Tumblr or posting an idea in less than 140 characters on Twitter. (I've done it!)
Or simply, writing it down.
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I'm a very independent person. I could be completely happy with just my family, a piano, my faith, and a pen and pencil. I should use the current tense. I am very happy with all those things in my life. Those are the things that make me stronger.
Those are my true Mondrians.
Could the Mondrian capture emotions? Was a Mondrian the excitement and celebratory feeling millions of people felt when Gay Marriage became legal in New York? Or when the first person in a family graduates from college? Or how happy I was to go to the Superbowl at Dallas Stadium? Or to perform a 26 page piece on the piano in front of hundreds of people? Or finish writing your own book? Or having the best family in the world? Or how amazing it was when I saw my first broadway show or concert? Or being to have a conversation in another language? Was my Mondrian the happiness I feel after spending hours on an entry? A question is asked though, should our interests be taken to the next level? Is that the point of them? Like for me, how far do I take my interests? Fashion, Writing, Designing, Trends, Advice, Piano.. Where do I take them? Is the Mondrian Dress asking us that question? Where is the limit of how far we pursue our interests? How hard should we fight for our interests? What value is gained in practicing piano until my fingers bleed? When should I put the pencil or the paintbrush down? When should I end my run?
From this another question could be asked: Should we fight for our interests, our art, our Mondrians?
Are our interests our interests because we enjoy them during our leisure time?
For you, possibly. For me, no. I live the world of Fashion. I constantly live in a place of half fantasy/ half reality, as does Gaga, where the future is undecided. I am the holder of the future. I define the future. My art is the future. My designs are not fashion. I am Fashion. The complexity of the questions are obvious and possibly a bit too ridiculous. I beg to differ. The Mondrian is a personal symbol for my passion, my interests and my excitement for my future. Given that I live in a complex world, have complex dreams and perhaps some unrealistic goals, the Mondrian should ask complex questions. For me, at least. I hope that looking at the dress and admiring the geometric makeup of the dress would ask you the questions you want to be asked. But I also hope you find the answers that you are content with. I would never want you, yes you, to feel like you are part of the overarching destiny of life. I'm saying this because this is often how I feel. I want you to know you are in charge of your own life. YOU are the artist. YOU are the painter. YOU are fashion.
"I don't do fashion. I am fashion."
- Coco Chanel
I am art. You sell your own ideas. Other people will take them and give birth to the idea again. Art is created and life, also. Life is one big Mondrian.
Without the Mondrian dress, without the question of whether or not it was plagiarized or revolutionary, our dreams would not be concrete. My dreams are alive in the Mondrian Dress. My loves, my interests and the things that excite me are stitched in the dress and are colored red, blue, white, yellow and black.
In the excerpt, Gaga talks about the idea of being reborn, that you can continue to create yourself and be whoever you want to be, which in a way is a form of being reborn. I love the idea Gaga and it is powerful, but when, why and how do we decide to be reborn? I understand the idea if I felt trapped my insecurities or hated a part of who I am, but is being "reborn" not the same thing as "running away"? Should everyone at one point in their life make the decision to be "Born Again"? Would I give up all my Mondrians, the things that define me, just to be reborn? Do our Mondrians stick with us? Do our insecurities leave and our Mondrians stay and grow alongside you? I would love to ask Gaga that question and see what she says. Her answer would really interest me. I don't want to run away. I am a warrior. No arrow can pierce me. I define my own beauty, nobody else. I define my success, not you. I do not want to run away. The idea of Rebirth should never have the connotation of running away. Opposite to how it sounds, being "Born Again" means that you have your insecurities but you fight them. You married the dark. And you will make love to the stars. Being born again is a celebration! Celebrate you're pride! Celebrate your faith, your love, your friends, family and most importantly, your Mondrians.
Something that really interested me is her statement, "Art gives birth to new art". The statement carries a tremendous amount of complexity and weight for being such a simple sentence. The idea that art being transformed and reborn into other art is simply... mind-blowing. So, with YSL in mind, did the Mondrian dress plagiarize or revolutionize? Could it be both, Lady Gaga? Is the idea of "plagiarism" actually a revolution? Is plagiarism bad? The design from the dress was taken from Piet, as you already know, so would it automatically be called plagiarism? We know that YSL took the design, which is plagiarism, but does it deserve to be called a revolution? That is the revolution. I would instantly answer yes if you asked me because I see how the dress sparked a new movement in the fashion world. But if you asked me the question in 1965, I would be unsure. I would not know. Time really answers all questions.
However, going more in depth on the idea, yes he took the design, but he started the pop culture movement in the 1950's, starting with the Mondrian dress? Now what? Saint Laurent took the pattern from the French painter but transformed and re-birthed it into a dress that changed the world of Fashion. The idea is astounding. Well, I am proud to say that YSL is in my blood. But wait, if art gives birth to new art, and since I help my sister pick out her outfits and design outfits for other people to wear, aren't we all a part of YSL? Are we all forms of art? While Lady Gaga wears a beautiful Yves Saint Laurent dress and I write about him, aren't we connected? While my Aunt Liz and Uncle Chris talk on the phone about this YSL entry as I walk into a YSL store, aren't we connected? Are all people in the world connected because of Fashion?
Yes, we are. The world is not as big as it once was. The world was much bigger and less people were connected before Yves Saint Laurent "stole" the design from a french painter and used the design to create a dress that makes up part of who I am and yes, you.
All questions answered. French Fashion.
Fashion is for life.
I'm the edge with you.
I wish that I could have this moment for life
Cause in this moment I just feel so alive
People couldn't believe what I've become, a Revolutionary..
You and I
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