Isabella Blow at Somerset House, photography by Peter MacDiarmid / Getty
To Somerset House for what we should likely call a retrospective of Isabella’s high life and fine times, except hesitation over the term comes from it more likely being met with resistance from an emblematic figure who kept her eyes fixed firmly forwards and receptive, rather than let them forever settle on fashion’s accepted past glories. Like The Fall’s Mark E Smith, who berates at every slurred opportunity the ‘look-back bores’ unable to see past his earlier music when he despises repeating already trodden ideas in preference for continued experimentation, properly creative souls set their sights way beyond the horizon and wait for others to slowly catch up.
Such people have the courage of their convictions. Nowadays the only game in town is to be considered ‘forward-thinking’, whether individual or institution. The label, ultimately all it is, becomes through illusion its own justification. Say it often enough and people may just believe your emptiest of signifiers. It’s instructive how true pioneers never bother with false brags, instead doing their own thing despite a single-minded vision often being confused as rebellious or troublesome to industries unsure how to cope with who they label as just another eccentric. Isabella Blow behaved and dressed exactly how she wanted, not as a critique of the old-fashioned views unsure how else to describe the outlandish but above all else to simply be herself.
Naturally the fascinating personal memorabilia – blazing red lipsticks, frayed business cards and letters, notes to herself and friends and faxes sent or received but always with luxury letterhead regardless of direction of travel – or the more familiar assorted pieces on show, numbering over a hundred and now belonging to Daphne Guinness, speak louder than description. Yet this exhibition succeeds not only due to the finely tuned nose of its curator, Alistair O’Neill along with Shonagh Marshall, but by demonstrating the value of expert advice from architectural firm Carmody Groarke and the no less invaluable set design of Shona Heath. The clothes selection would no doubt hold up well to an otherwise empty room barely lit by a candle, so strong are they even off Isabella’s body once so comfortable taming their daring.
Instead the McQueen and Chalayan dresses benefit from not being treated reverentially or indeed sympathetically, which is not to do a disservice to the superior work of the above mentioned. Much like Isabella thought nothing of wearing couture to the typical pre-eminent offices throughout her career (even they’re just clothes after all), the team responsible for layout, display and structure allowed themselves to have fun while being original, which ultimately reads as a testament to Blow’s own fashion attitude and reminder about one of its appeals when, true to form, the business takes itself too seriously by half. We have the usual historical context and chronology, but what survives the memory is the imagination as to how the overall show is given life beyond that which it contains.
The incomparable Tim Noble and Sue Webster have their shadow/sculpture Blow piece right at the exhibition’s start, which under normal circumstances would mark the high-point of a show then all set for diminishing returns. Here though the installations yet to come, for once living up to their concept by giving substance to their contents rather than being rendered mute about theTreacy hats or Blahnik shoes they present, or the sections devoted to Isabella’s love of nature and how to thematically represent clothing by the likes of Comme des Garçons or Viktor & Rolf from such a singular pretext, deliver a firm appreciation of how to combine space, thought and content in order to thoroughly examine a subject.
Nothing though could do justice to Isabella Blow. That this exhibition cannot, in spite of everything, is not surprising. What is though is how close it comes.
Isabella Blow: Fashion Galore! runs at Somerset House’s Embankment Galleries until 2 March 2014.
Paul Stewart
