Today is dark horse day. So that equates to Rick Owens & Egon Schiele. (Pronounces SHEE-luh!!!!) I jones over Rick Owens & his ability to transform clothing into the exact angst and sadness I carried around like a badge in my youth and how I when I was homeless, I would realize that my wardrobe in later years was not only avant garde and not featuring a filthy junkie, but a chic, forward thinking unfortunate trend setter. (Bumming smokes in front of the No Tell Motel doesn't seem so degraded now does it?)
I love dressing to feel like a dark villainous super hero, and when I acquire a disposable income, I will buy everything in open space from Rick Owens. Physically, the guy is Iggy Pop, Marc Jacobs & fucking Maynard cosmic combo. Jesus Christ.
Egon Schiele has been my childhood comrade in depression, anger and all of the things I didn't understand so I painted and wrote about them instead. Schiele paved the way for me to do this. It's not so much about the obvious angles, absent interpretations and pinky out kind of energy that folks want to exude when talking about this artist, it's what isn't being said. In the same way that attracts one to a partner in the beginning, the unknown, what they don't say is what makes you bite.
I love all of the things entwined in what I take away from his work that no one else sees and leaves me in a isolated yet validated space about identification with this or that. Do yourself a favor and do the same. Self appraisal should be performed alone before one's arrogance is off the leash with no goal in site. Reel in it for fuck's sake.
Remember to breathe today, it can all change within seconds.
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