Yohji Yamamoto
edited by Cristina Morozzi
Yohji Yamamoto, whose name means ?at the foot of the mountain?, was born in Tokyo in 1943. A son of the era of defeat, obsessed by the ruins on which Japan was building its future, he was raised by his mother, a dressmaker and war widow, who worked 16 hours a day to put him through school. Against his mother's advice, he decided to follow in her footsteps, attending the Bunka school to learn the basics of the trade. In 1969 he was awarded an eight-month study trip to Paris, where he saw the first developments in pr괭୰orter and decided to follow that path.
Back in Tokyo, in 1972 he founded the Y's Company. In 1981 his first Paris show was a shock: fashion had changed direction. A new era was beginning, which would alter our perception of clothing and the female image. ?If fashion -Yamamoto, the most philosophical of fashion designers, says- is just a dress it is not indispensable. But if it is a way of relating to everyday life it becomes very important. Of all the arts, only fashion has the possibility to directly influence people. Fashion is unique, essential communication that involves the sensations experienced by people who wear the clothing they want?. His fashion is a way of being, yet Yamamoto doesn't think of himself as a designer. He prefers to call himself a tailor, or a craftsman who looks for the essence of things: ?a carpenter -he says- works with his hands to reach the essence of the chair; I do the same thing to find the essence of the dress?. Wim Wenders in the film Notebook on Cities and Clothes, aiming the camera at Yamamoto's ascetic face, his measured gestures, his monastic spaces and, through briefly, at his clothes, has distilled his philosophy.
Takeishi Kitano, the renowned Japanese filmmaker, asked him to do the costumes for the film Dolls, bringing out the ritual, almost fatal character of his fashion. Which perhaps should not even be called fashion, because Yamamoto doesn't pay attention to fashions or trends: he is interested in people, real people, like those photographed in the book People of the 20th Century by August Sander, a great source of inspiration. He has studied every detail of those images. In the film he shows them to Wim Wenders, describing not the clothing but the character of the people. On the workers' overalls he says ?they are something to be proud of, while the clothing of the gypsy speaks of disorientation, and the six-button vest of the merchant speaks of dignity. Those people -he concludes-are wearing reality, they could live their whole life wearing the same clothes?.
The clothes on display at Palazzo Pitti have been selected by Yamamoto himself based on their correspondences to the 19th-century spaces that contain them. The exhibition design by Masao Nihei, a long-time collaborator of Yamamoto, makes plenty of use of natural light entering through partially closed shutters. The clothes, always facing toward the Boboli gardens, and the artworks are never directly lit. The tones of the lights, softened by amber gels, accentuate a sort of relationship between softnesses: those of the old decorations and artworks and those of the silhouettes. The itinerary is marked by red bubbles, 23 cm in diameter, alternating with large reflecting silver disks placed near the clothes to attract attention with reflexes of light. At the end of the show's itinerary, in the Sala del Fiorino, 36 dresses are arrayed to bid farewell to the guests. In the Music Room, behind a cage made with metal pipes, there is a large bamboo skirt, four meters in diameter.
The cage is open, you can enter and touch before leaving the gallery. The dummies, similar to those immortalized by De Chirico, mingle with the visitors. The clothes seem to have entered on tiptoe, they are accessible, with an almost everyday appearance in this context. They reveal themselves, though they belong to different seasons, of today and forever. The Florentine show offered an opportunity to learn more about the secret of this timeless quality.
Fashion is ephemeral, identity is permanent: how can they be reconciled?
?I don't like the word identity. I don't like to be told I've been understood. The identity of my clothes is that of the person who chooses them. Leaving something unfinished permits a new approach to events. The key to any creation is to leave it incomplete?. (...)