put your back up against the wall

thom browne f/w 2012-13

Michael Magin, Metropolis, 2014

Corporate Identity by Reto Schmid @ MASSES

plattenbau destruction , berlin 2014

danielle malka

New Resin Series by Jo Nagasaka for Established & Sons

Rosemarie Trockel “Sleeping Pill” 1999
For this installation the artist created “relaxation suits” out of plastic and suspended a couple in them while sleeping. For the course of its exhibition the couple was suspended and unaware of the viewers moving about them. The artist said the state of the couple and the entrapment they were in was an illustration of “exhausted, powerless lovers” 

Henri Matisse
Nude Seated with Crossed Legs


Levi’s, Elle magazine, September 1991.

Benoît Méléard
Photography Les Cyclopes Styling Benoît Méléard Make-up Topolino Hair Alexis Imaging Philippe and Christophe/Smith Model Debra Shaw
Benoît Méléard doesn’t like to use the word sexy to describe the shoes he makes. He prefers the word sex. Sexy is too gentile, he says. And Méléard is right. His shoes could make a stiletto blush. They are all sex and no innuendo. Many of his designs scarcely resemble shoes at all. They look like boxes or hooves, unforgiving architectural encasements for the foot. Some of his more shoelike designs titillate with a generous glimpse of décolletage. In other words, toe cleavage. “I am always working on the volume.”
Méléard says. “Not to be vulgar, to be elegant. Strong but elegant.” Méléard thinks fashion is inherently cruel, and he may very well have been playing an eye for an eye when he created an extremely high shoe without a heel to stand on. “Everyone works on the shape of the heel,”he says. “I wanted to forget about it.” His Fall 1999 collection, in which this shoe made its debut, was called, innocently enough, “tip toe”. These heelless marvels came in any number of variations: one pair had metal and leather appendages like airplane wings; another was decorated with buttons (an homage to designer Patrick Kelly); another pair was bound together with a thick strap. Méléard has also created shoes from the hood of a sweatshirt affixed to a block of wood, and shoes with Rapunzel attachements of long silky hair, or spray of peacock feathers, or stiff side pieces that extend all the way to the shoulder, blurring the line between footwear and clothing. He likes to present these shoes with leotards, lots of leg make-up and the occasional mask. “I think you can wear them with what you want,” he says. “It’s not my problem.” Méléard, who has worked for both Robert Clergerie and Charles Jourdan, learned to make shoes at AFPIC, a small and exclusive Parisian school. He has won several prestigious awards and designers such as Jeremy Scott and Pascal Humbert have asked him to make shoes for their shows. In the fall of 1999, Méléard will test his commercial viability when he produces his first collection for the Spanish company Loewe. For now, his own shoes are produced by a Mr. Aris whose customer base, until Méléard came along, was mostly elderly women. (His previous cobbler didn’t work out because he refused to make the models he didn’t like, which amounted to a lot of them.) Mr. Aris finally decided that Méléard was not mad; he was an artist. Says Méléard, “I want Paris to become a city of shoes!”

Visionaire’s Fashion 2001: Designers of the New Avant-Garde by Stephen Gan

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