“I Have A Longing For Life, And I Go On Living In Spite Of Logic. Though I May Not Believe In The Order

A.F. Vandevorst spring—summer 1999.

For A.F. Vandevorst a garment that has been worn, has more ‘spirit’, more ‘soul’. An opinion they assimilated in their Spring-Summer 1999 collection by proposing clothes that look as if they have been slept in. The show took place in an old dormitory, and the clothes were presented by models sleeping in iron hospital beds. Lauded by the international press and fashion world, the duo received the Venus de la Mode award for most promising designer.

Hirofumi Kurino: Having seen a fashion show too many, I sometimes feel exhausted. It all seems a big waste to me then. I presume others must have the same feeling but still, they always seem ready for another show. I am fed up with this craze, this talk about fashion, the irresponsibility of journalists just chasing news. This ‘fashion for fashion’s sake’ is quite meaningless.

But there are moments of magic. Many people will agree with me when I mention the three A.F. Vandevorst shows, in 1998 and 1999. Knowing these were their first presentations, we were more than amazed; I felt healed, saved, rescued.

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“The Man Who Fell From Heaven” petroglyph, Robertson Point, Prince Rupert Harbour, Canada. © 1983 Department of Archaeology, Simon Fraser University.

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Stalker, Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979

“A little darkness, in itself, at the time, is nothing. You think no more about it and you go on. But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.”

—

Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies

tacita dean

Nell Dorr, 1939

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Miklós Ligeti, Csók, 1902

Bianca Blakeney by Sam Crawford for CAP 74024 Magazine April 2022

“If you’re walking for a long time, You can’t think about tomorrow. If you’re walking for a long time, keep your eyes down and don’t falter. Wolves are growling in the mountains, they will come if you’re not wise. Wolves are growling by the roadside, and robbers prowling in the trees. One eye open when you’re sleeping, the night has many arms that touch you. One eye open when you’re waking, sometimes day itself can snatch you. If you dream of grapes in the arbor, you’ll wake up with stones for eyes. If you dreams of rivers winding, there’ll be gravel where you lie. And when your father falls behind, don’t cry, there’s always someone else. And when your mother falls behind, don’t cry, and then, there’s no one else. Never ask where you are going, the wind might blow your ashes there Never also where you are going, The wind is blowing everywhere.”

—

“Children’s Lullaby,” from So I Will Tell The Ground, a book of poetry by Egyptian-Armenian Gregory Djanikian

Cited along the poem, the testimony of “an Armenian child-survivor of a deportation, 1915”

About this time, Turkish or Kurdish women would come and take children away. Realizing that there was nothing but death facing us…my mother gave me to them. So these two women held my hand and took me away.