June 4, 2012
As I have acquainted you with my sort of art in the former post which, thank you, has recorded quite a nice number in audience, proud little me resolved to inform you all of the most recent project undertaken , in a premiere partnership with my declared muse, Diana T., a 1-meters-tall-some-50-centimeters-wide drawn replica of Laurie Lipton‘s “Santa Muerte” (which, since I’m reticent at a possible comparison, won’t appear here, facing our petty variants).
With no further introduction, in a lugubrious atmosphere, I present you the obviously unfinished sketch depicting Mr. Death at the beginning of his highly detailed majesty:
The sympathetic skull with damaged teeth and an oddly rich hair exhibiting a volume vying the girls’ who advertise shampoos was delineated by Diana, while I chose, having a great attraction to jewels of any kind, to humbly resume at the bony crown…
The Earth is also her merit…
…and let us not forget the complicated head-piece made of terribly minute lace which shall be Diana’s dramatizing subjects for the next month (“Damned points! They’ll have my fingers bleed over them, not to mention my eyes blinding in the process of staring!”). In exchange for letting her do it, I’ll be forced to torment my poor right hand with some thousand small skeletons printed on Death’s now-not-quite-visible robe, just so you’re informed of my future martyrdom.
May 14, 2012
Today I was browsing through some charming old magazines which have mysteriously piled up near my desk the past few years when I found this incredibly ingenious and obviously purely French pictorial of Yves Saint Laurent Rives Gauche (meaning “for men” branch of the exquisite fashion house) from 1998, proposing an artsy way to broadcast the then newest (and implicitly hottest) winter collection, something exclusively the Parisian designers could come up with (if we remember the Chanel parfume commercial with sensuous Vanessa Paradis posing as one of Ingres’ girls).
I liked the ideas so much I just had to put it here, comparing the original painting with the distorted and modernized vision which seems to exploit the very essence of our society through the light of the previous, sharp, smart, fine, luxurious but nonetheless glazed with a foam of sexuality meant to attract, to spellbound the potential viewer. Well, this and the generous resolution to serve you the names of the YSL team’s original inspiration.
Le Dejuner Sur L’Herbre (1863) by one of the most brilliant innovative figures in the quite innovative itself 19th century, Monsieur Eduard Manet, whose present equivalent suggested in the YSL representation I have elected to become my own inspiration for a thematic drawing I suppose I’ll show in a future post with the condition of coming up well. It’s too much a harem assembly for me to resist sketching it my style.
Olympia (1863), also by Manet, the outrageous icon of the expression succes de scandale.
Les Trois Graces (1792), relatively dull painting in comparison with Boticelli’s three beauteous girls (but, hey, the French are highly chauvinistic about art, as Deborah Davis once said) by Jean Baptiste Regnault
Rockby Venus (1651) by an admirer of curvacious women, Spanish prodigy Velasquez.
Jeune Homme au Bord de la Mer (1836), little romantic work done by Hyppolite Flandrin.
Gabrielle d’Estrees et la Duchesse de Villars (151594), an extremely tasty Louvre masterpiece whose symbolism vies conventional translation, leaving the intrigued spectator weave his own, profoundly personal, story relating to the weird hand-gesture the dark haired noble does… I know I have my imagination titillated by it…
Le Sommeil (1866), the pronouncedly erotic Goustave Courbet painting somehow brought to a less morally-offensive state in the eyes of heterosexuals, if you know what I mean.
There was also a Latour inspired photo of the following “Fortuneteller” yet its size was terrible and the resolution so poor that I couldn’t decide on putting it here, amongst the others.
So I assume I’ve made my opinion pretty clear by testifying that I’m presently going to draw the first Manet sample but what do you think? Which has the honor of having captured your attention best?
February 4, 2012
It’s common knowledge only French have the chic to elevate mere fashion to epitomic art, enhancing the pith of a plain fabric to its full potential of divine clothing which oozes sophistication through simplicity, and who could represent this natural flair better than Chanel?
For almost a century, the house founded by Coco in 1910 aggrandized the heritage of haute couture, making it a public delight and a genuine style-idol worldwide, thing projected not just in Karl Largerfeld’s shows but also in the commercials for No. 5 or Mademoiselle I consider the most elegant of all. Mainly because they promote a perfume and particularly because of the French touch, the No. 5 advertisements have a certain atmosphere of a posh intensity, always luxurious and as sensuous as the fragrance they evoke. Short, indeed, yet amazingly substantial.
Since 1921, when it was given as Christmas gift to best costumers, the elite of society, No. 5 remained firm on its position: Earth’s most famous scent, archetype of fineness embottled in an expensive crystal recipient reassembling a whiskey decanter. Slogans developed to describe its power sound like “every woman alive loves Chanel No. 5” or “Chanel becomes the woman you are” and contain subliminal messages of striking quality, followed by pictures which call upon the aesthetic proclivity of the customer.
In the next picture, with model Suzy Parker as the Chanel femme (because the women presenting it tend to be of Bond girl’s type), it’s explained that the perfume’s chemical composition was developed especially to blend with one’s “own delicate essence”. It “becomes you because it becomes you”, a play of words with double meaning underlines it.
In 1950, Marylin Monroe took the liberty of promoting No. 5 voluntarily, increasing its celebrity over the Ocean. When asked by a curious interviewer what she wore to bed (wonder what answer he expected…) , the controverted actress and sex-symbol retorted provocatively: “five drops of Chanel No. 5!”
Afterwords, the signature fragrance’s appearance in pretentious magazines like Elle significantly amplified, more and more public figures considering a sign of wealth, of welcomed refinement, to put on No. 5. It soon became synonym with voguish.
Now that we passed the introduction we get to the fun part: contemporary TV adverts, modish and of undoubted quality.
Parisian belle Catherine Deneuve introduces No. 5 as “one of the pleasures of being a woman”, mostly speaking about it in her French accent whose charm she augments through luring gestures. Brief and clear, that’s how we can summarize it.
Vanessa Paradis, here posing like in Ingres’ “the Source”, was the 1992 image of Chanel and the spot, depicting her as a caged bird in Mademoiselle Gabrielle’s Ritz suite, was quite gripping and ingenious. The chromatic selection was basically simple, concentrating on a lustrous black, very Coco otherwise and evidently smart.
But truly inventive was the 2004 Chanel “film”, starring Nicole Kidman and Rodrigo Santoro on the celestial music of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune“: a concentrated love story between a superstar and one ordinary man who saves her from paparazzi in a tornado of pink feathers, takes her to his peaceful penthouse and is forced to let her go when she’s demanded back. Profound, accelerated, beautiful, colors contrastingly rising from the fluid darkness which deepens the sentiments and contours a classy ambiance. The final scene, with Kidman walking on the red carpet in a black dress, compresses the spirit of Chanel: select, sinuous melancholy.
After playing Gabrielle in “Coco avant Chanel” movie, Audrey Tatou was elected to be the new representative for No. 5, filming a commercial directed like a tale of love at first sight, an instant seduction in the Orient Express, charged with feeling galore and flaming as no other before. The spectrum of tints brightened, adding a lush sensation, but the timeless purity of the clothes’ lines remained unaltered.
The last Chanel ad has Estella Warren as Little Red Riding Hood entering a golden safe with a stash of No. 5 bottles from which she takes one, anointing herself with the perfume and thus being able to control the wolf threatening to eat her. Concise, original, flirtatious; a slight modification in the manner of filming.
For the younger fans of No.5, Chanel introduced a modern version of the famous fragrance, “Coco Mademoiselle”, whose spokesmodels are Kate Moss and Keira Knighltey.
A year ago, the Coco Mademoiselle commercial with Knightley was broadcast on TV, in two variants.
One shows Keira as a femme fatale, playful and alluring, misleading the photographer in charge with her pictorial only to abandon him when was fully seduced. The theme color is cream, the shade of affluence, and her apparition on assorted motorbike screams novelty, being extremely fresh with a tiny bit of vintage.
The second is rather fancy, in the typical Parisian landscape, with Keira undressing a masculine shirt (allusion to Gabrielle’s habit of borrowing some of her lover’s clothes) and throwing a flapper hat to dress in a red gown scented with Chanel, while Joss Stone sings “L.O.V.E.” in the background. Here we see once more the high-class of Chanel company: a mixture of old and new, an undying high-class.
Watching these most glamorous commercials, can you refrain to wonder what will be next?