Style Icon: Eva Hesse

Eva Hesse, Atelier

One of the best feelings in the world comes from buying a new and frivolous clothing item that matches nothing you own and/or is in every way innappropriate to the lifestyle you lead. There is a whole 21st Century city-girl ritual surrounding such retail experiences: you blow your last five paychecks on some impossibly impractical minidress/platform sandals/leather trousers/etc, come home, lovingly fondle the garment, try it on ten zillion times just to ogle at your own newfound hotness, hang the thing up in your closet, let it sit around and marinate in its own decadent beauty for months, obsessively ideate over what would be the perfect way to wear it, finally brainstorm it up, put way too much effort into making the whole look as flawlessly cool as is humanly possible, then finally execute and carry out the fruits of your labour. And then for the rest of your life, you can always think, "Boy, did I ever look hot on that day I had to meet my thesis advisor for coffee, bought the new British Vogue at Barnes & Noble, and ate Indian take-out for dinner!"

Okay, but the actual best feeling in the world is when you wake up late, don't shower, throw on whatever the hell happens to be clean, rush out the door, possibly spill your coffee all over yourself, miss your train, and don't even bother looking in a mirror until you run past a glass-panelled building-- and then get that moment of "Oh my Lord- I look so fly today!" The last time this happened to me was about five months ago, when I slept through my alarm, woke up to a self-induced panic attack, and arrived at work ten minutes later sporting the navy leggings I slept in with giant sunglasses, a safety-pinned grey t-shirt, insane bedhead and a neon green v-neck sweater. I'd accidentally crafted a masterful No-Wave day look that screamed, "I was the bass player in an early incarnation of Elvis Costello and the Attractions but then left the group to hand-draw 7-inch sleeves for the Slits after that sell-out played SNL!"

Skillfully-crafted, Sartorialist-approved "looks" can certainly make you look hotter, prettier, classier, chic-er, less like a crazy hobo, more like the sort of person who should be employed by whoever the heck you're trying to get employed by. But one thing pre-planned dressing can never do is make you look cooler. And if being a Style Icon isn't above all else about looking cool, well then, I'm kind of lost right now, and am probably unfit to write this article. The intangible semblance of "cool" in fashion is something that can really only be borne from happenstance, from carelessly throwing together all your least-favorite clothing items in a mad rush, then lucking into something so weirdly killer you find it hard to believe that it's 3 PM and you still haven't been stopped on the street by Nicolas Ghesquiere inquiring if you would like to be his new muse.

Apparently, this accidental-chic effect happened for the minimalist artist Eva Hesse on every single day of her life. That must have been nice for her.

It has taken me awhile to fully come around to Eva Hesse as Style Icon: she's my boyfriend's dream girl, so my most basal impulse is of course to hate her. I'm pretty much obligated to- I think it says so in The Rules or something. Maybe I'm thinking of Ten Commandments? Either way: when we first started dating, a photograph of Eva Hesse was actually his desktop background (when you date an art historian, you get used to this kind of thing). But, as I've grown more confident and learned to trust that I probably won't get dumped for the ghost of a late Minimalist, I've come around to Eva Hesse. In fact, you could even say she's my dream girl.

Eva Hesse described her art as being about 'the total absurdity of life'- I would have described her art as 'an impeccable and innovative coalescence of the visceral creative impulse with a decidely cerebral communicative methodology and aesthetic language,' but hey, who's counting? My point is: Eva Hesse was way too busy crafting some of the most important artwork of the late Twentieth century to spend very much time on personal style. Hesse's approach to dressing was something along the lines of laissez-faire nouveau-Beatnik: messy hair, lots and lots of black, brilliant art as accessory, no frills.

One of the coolest things about Eva Hesse's now official designation of Style Icon is that her art itself often serves as an equally inspiring jumping off point for awesome self-styling as does her actual personal style. Hesse's 1964 Untitled, a study in gouache, watercolor and ink, says more about how I'd like to dress myself than any dumb outfit ever could.

Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, gasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, rumbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding grinding grinding away at yourself. Stop it, and just DO!

-Sol LeWitt to Eva Hesse, 1965

Posted by Laura in Icons
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