Temple of Love: A Day of Rick Owens’ in Paris

Temple of Love: A Day of Rick Owens' in Paris

I’ve entered into the fallen angel’s Garden of Eden, I think, by pulling up to the back entrance of the Palais Galliera for Rick Owens’ Temple of Love. Looming in front of the Parisian museum’s facade, large dark angelic figures stood like protectors of the exhibit. In front of them, a mystical garden features a fountain. It is surrounded by a majestic canopy of green and purple Californian vegetation, transforming the hedgery into a twisted snake that pays homage to the designer’s West Coast roots. To the right, a man-made garden of brutalist stone blocks set the tone for Rick Owens’ exhibit; it would be an odyssey through the hard-edged designer’s garden of thoughts and creation. Perhaps I would get answers to how he ended up the enfant terrible darling of the fashion world. Where did his ideas stem from? What were his obsessions that influenced the cut of his clothes? How had the Prince of Darkness grown from an LA club kid to Parisian fashion monk? When did he find his love for brutalism? What interested the man pushing the envelope of what fashion could mean in our current world or even post apocalypse?

Rick has always been seen as an enigma, interested in darkness and the occult. He’s often labeled as someone flirting with Satan or for throwing devilish seances with his unmistakable partner Michèle Lamy. But beyond the punk and armour, I think Rick actually just wears his heart on his sleeve. In many ways, I see parallels to the late Lee McQueen, who felt comfort exploring humanity’s vices, pitfalls, and beauty in terror. If the name of the exhibit gives any hint, it’s a Temple of Love, not hatred. It’s a place that Rick has built to honor principles of unity and connection with his creations. The Temple of Love is a clear living retrospective on how far the designer has come and how far he has left to discover if he continues to bow at the altar of creativity and truth..

Cloaked in darkness, the entrance room welcomes visitors to the temple, where brightly lit mannequins are dressed in the designer’s draping alienesque configurations. The exhibition showcases pieces from the designer's various collections, sourced from over three decades of work. Some look like they have been shipped from the runways of other planets, while others look as though sculpted from none other than the earth’s natural elements, grounded and raw. In person, their textures are effervescent and visceral. They gleam and growl. They attract and repel. They are cleverly paired with objets de influence adjacent to them. From campaign photographs in rocky mountain terrain or vast deserts to post-modern paintings and silent film stars, these accompanying references paint the world in which the collections live and breathe.

Born and bred in LA, Owens was raised in a strictly religious household and from an early age was exposed to classical works like the music of Richard Wagner and the films of Cecil B. DeMille. At the encouragement of his mother, he pursued formal higher artistic education in fashion and design but dropped out due to the courses’ lack of inspiration and practical teachings. He ended up going to a technical college, where he honed his meticulous skills in pattern cutting, before starting out as one in Los Angeles. He eventually was hired to work at his wife Michèle Lamy’s own label, before starting his own atelier much later into their relationship. Lamy’s influence as a muse and partner is felt throughout the exhibit, which celebrates her uniqueness and dark glamour. A recreation of their bedroom is also on display, providing an intimate insight into the shared sacredness of the couple's day to day living. The couple are undoubtedly intertwined and joyful in their world of rock n’ roll and the avant garde. Their love for each other is ever present as their lust for life.

Influenced by the freedom and hedonism of the 1980s underground club scene, Owens explored drugs and his sexuality excessively before becoming sober. His interactions with counter culture figures attributed to his vision of diversity and inclusion, as well as the unique materials employed in his creations. For example, Owens has referenced the phenomenon of body modifications in his clothing by creating the illusion that his clothes have been modified like skin. Owens has expressed that body modifications were in many ways a reaction to the AIDS crisis, where LGBTQ communities felt that piercings and modifications were a way to reclaim their bodies.

Further into the exhibit, Owens and the curation team have decided to showcase archival garments in natural light, bathing through the monumental museum’s tall glass windows. In this section, it is clear to see that in creating vast and oversized silhouettes or in tight, body hugging garments, Owens is acutely aware of the individual’s relationship to the body, and therefore their soul. As someone who crafts both furniture and clothing, it’s clear that Owens thinks with the principles of drafting and architecture in mind, especially since his move to Paris in 2003. After a stint in the outskirts of Italy near the factories where his clothing was manufactured, Owens became connected to the inner world of isolation and its relationship with creation. In Paris, he expanded his label and gained international praise, all while diving deeper into the human psyche and condition. Despite collaborating with a large team, he thrives in creating alone, where he can discover the form on the body and transform the look of a mannequin through a cut. One of his favorite elements of the exhibition is a video he took of himself doing just that. I find myself watching minutes of the clip, filmed simply on my iPhone. Through the unpretentious and unfiltered lens, I’m taken into Owens’ studio and workplace. The designer drapes and cuts fabric over the mannequin. He pauses to think and listens to music. In the zone, he is utterly concentrated, yet open. He is serious, yet gentle. He is casual, but dramatic.

In his oeuvre, he plays with themes of protection, with armour like coats to vulnerability with his skirts that reveal the state of flaccid, male genitals. Leather, army blankets, military bags, and other untraditional resources formed the materials of his early studio days, when finances were scarce. Now a legendary designer with a massive brand, his approach to working with reclaimed fabrics has only grown to include more exaggerations and deformations, even while producing on a global scale.

Nicknamed the Prince of Darkness because of his penchant for using muted grey and dark tones, Owens can automatically be categorized as a rather masculine designer. There is something inexplicably strong and brutal about his aesthetic, but Owens has always argued that women are the strongest figures in his life and that his work aims to provoke the notions of male dominance and discrimination. Owens states "I’m admirative and loving with women, and I’m afraid I’m harshly critical of men because of all the shortcomings I see in myself.” He condemns them by making them scarier through menacing materials, strong silhouettes, provocative cuts, and sculptural largeness.

Both regal and terrifying, the figures are surrounded by glass displays showcasing Owens’ primary sources. There are Gustave Moreau and Steven Parrino works. Photos of André Leon Talley and Owens show days where Owens is relaxed. Hanging out on a bed shirtless in dark pants, Owens is most chill for someone so associated with being intense. Notable books include Against the Grain and Bunker Archaeology, filled with pictures of abandoned post war bunkers, which Owens views as the setting where his creations live. His understanding of their environment and world is why his work often feels cinematic or alienesque. With runways that imitate the rough, muddy swamps of nature and paired with club music or the grand romantic pieces of Wagner, shows are masterclasses in storytelling.

A particular highlight is a room where photographs are kindly prohibited out of respect for sexual and violent content. Inside, you will find the infamous Rick Owens projectile peeing sculpture, in which the designer pokes fun at the idea of cementing his likeness in a portrait in vain by instead commissioning a cheeky display such as this. In addition, videos of Michelle Lamy sitting butt naked on a cake for her birthday as well as Satan crossed underwear highlight the designer’s affinity for exploring the uncomfortable and provocative as a means to find truth and love. He is unafraid to get freaky and celebrates the places, often the club, where pleasure and freedom are uninhibited and where people choose to be the fiercest, if most embarrassing, unadulterated versions of themselves. His decisions to include occult and witchy symbols align with his penchant for anarchism and the anti establishment. General curator of the exhibition Arzalluz notes that "Rick Owens has created a safe space where difference, awkwardness, and reinvention are not only welcome but celebrated." Arzalluz is right. Owens welcomes outsiders and outcasts with brutalist open arms. He showers them with affection and beauty, in the sensual and cheeky way only he can. He dedicates his work to them and to love, in all its strange and great forms.

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Chiara Padejka

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Tagged Paris Galleria, Rick Owens, Temple of Love

Temple of Love: A Day of Rick Owens' in Paris

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