Gender and the Gaze
An
overwhelming percentage of Artistic Dress was designed for
women. Among all the exhibitions, publications, and reviews only
one garment designed for men is cited, a suit by the painter Hermann
Widmer exhibited in the Leipzig Kunstgewerblichen Ausstellung für
Bekleidung in 1901. Widmer sketched at least two other suit
designs, but there is no evidence that they were ever made. Under the
title of male Artistic Dress one might also include the smocks worn by
artists in the studio. Yet these garments were not called
Artistic Dress, and smocks were not included in exhibitions or
publications on the subject. The scarcity of male Artistic Dress
forces one to ask the question, why was almost all Artistic Dress made
to be worn by women rather than men?
At
the time, most would have probably noted, as Henry van de Velde did in
his book, Die künstlerische Hebung der Frauentracht, that
men’s clothing was logical and therefore did not need to be reformed.
Anne Hollander finding that after the French Revolution men’s
garments were often read as a signifier of the qualities of the ideal
male citizen, indicate that van de Velde was not alone.1
Numerous contemporary sources show that the suits that became popular
were often considered rational because they lacked ornament. In
comparison to women’s clothing, men’s clothing barely altered the
silhouette of the body, and was thus considered natural. The
muted colors were associated with somberness and sensibility.
The suit that had dominated male middle- and upper-class dress since the
end of the eighteenth century had undergone fairly subtle changes in
comparison to the changes of the clothing of women of the same
classes. That “timelessness” had also been read as an indication
of rationality.
Yet,
this claim of rationality, naturalness, and timelessness had been
challenged by many Dress Reformers of the period who developed several
garments for men. Thus, the question, despite van de Velde’s
objections, remains; why so little Artistic Dress for men?
I
believe one answer lies in the contemporary gender constructs linked to
looking. At the time self-display was linked to femininity and
the act of looking (the gaze) to masculinity.2
Both fashion with its layers of trimming and body alteration and
Artistic Dress, considered objets d’art, rendered the women who wore
them objects of the gaze. Artistic Dress designers themselves
recognized this when they noted that Reform Dress was doomed to fail
because it did not fulfill a women’s desire to visually please.3
The standard suit was as important for fin-de-siècle
artists as for their male patrons, since any unusual or overt
self-adornment during this period was particularly suspect due to the
recent scandal involving Oscar Wilde. His notoriety was likely to have
dissuaded any large-scale interest in male adornment for artists active
around 1900.4
As cartoons of the period reveal, Wilde was well known for velvet,
brightly colored fabric and knee-length breeches rather than long
trousers. His choice of fabrics, as well as his overt interest in
male appearance, broke from the hundred-year tradition that seemingly
stressed logic over beauty in men’s wear. This was both
consistent with his call for beauty in all things and in sharp contrast
to contemporary gender constructions which did not allow men to be
objects of aesthetic satisfaction.
If a man was to be an object of beauty, who was to look at
him? Women were severely limited in their viewing in the
Victorian era. Female art students were regularly always barred
from figure-drawing classes, and nude statues were draped for female
audiences at some public exhibitions. Men were encouraged to
dress in a way that united them with others of their class rather than
to attract a mate. Since women were not encouraged to seek visual
pleasure in men, Wilde’s unusual dress was seen as an object for men,
particularly gay men, to view. The gendering of Victorian gaze,
as well as Wilde’s notorious 1895 trial, which publicly revealed his
homosexual activity, rendered the sexuality of any man who concentrated
on his own beauty subject to question.
Some artists successfully navigated the demands of contemporary
masculinity and adopted something that could be called Artistic Dress,
but those who did so maintained a very clear distinction between public
and private dress. Moreover, their Artistic Dress was directly
associated with specific activities or ideas. Because the
clothing was primarily worn for a purpose, the message it conveyed was
that the wearer was working or attempting to change his state of
mind. The possibility of this clothing being mistaken as a
display meant to catch the eye and visually please the observer was
thus sharply reduced.
Gustav
Klimt serves as a good example of an artist whose sartorial practices
incorporated something that can be called Artistic Dress and met the
demands of contemporary masculinity. As a powerful and sometimes
notorious force in Vienna’s art world, Klimt commanded attention and
was thus the subject of many photographs. Examination of these
photographs reveals a clear distinction between the public and private
dress of the artist. In standard portrait photographs and
records of public events, Klimt sports a typical contemporary
suit. Photographs of Klimt in private settings reveal the use of
caftan-like garments with boldly patterned fabrics or decorative
embroidery. Klimt created two personae with his clothing
selections. In the well-tailored suit, he was a respectable
middle-class man whose wardrobe expressed the social norms of
professionalism, logic, respectability, and
heterosexual masculinity. On vacation, he left the city, adopted a caftan-like garment, and got back to nature.
Klimt also wore a loose flowing garment in the studio. A
blue garment with gold embroidery on the shoulders, commonly called
“Klimt’s smock,” is preserved in the Vienna Stadtmuseum. The
garment is speckled with paint marks, which indicate that it was used
for work. While it was not unusual for artists to wear protective
smocks during studio sessions, Klimt’s smock stands out because of the
embroidery on its shoulders. The needlework is a gold
tree-of-life pattern; both pattern and color are common in his
paintings. Apparently because the decoration was both relatively
small, related to the professional activity of the wearer, and worn
only in private, it did not fall outside the realm of acceptable
masculinity. A look at the garments worn by female artists of the
same period reveals different expectations and use of decoration.
1 Anne Hollander, Sex and Suits. The Evolution of Modern Dress (New York: Kodansha, 1995), 54 and 63-96.
2 See John Berger and Laura Mulvey for more on gender, the gaze, and self-display. John Berger, Ways of Seeing (London: British Broadcasting System, 1972). Laura Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” is the seminal work in this arena. More recent scholars have challenged the limited ideas of gender in Mulvey’s work, but it still holds ground in discussion of the gaze, particularly for the period under study. Laura Mulvey, “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” Screen 16, no. 3 (Autumn 1975): 6-18.
3 “Each woman, even she who considers it immoral to devote interest to her exterior, has the natural desire to please. So long as just two eyes gaze on her with that need for beauty which is inherent in everyone, she cannot be indifferent to whether she provides enjoyment or discomfort.” Anna Muthesius, Das Eigenkleid der Frau (Krefeld: Kramer & Baum, 1903), 20.
4 Alan Sinfield, The Wilde Century: Effeminacy, Oscar Wilde and the Queer Moment (London: Cassell, 1994); Ed Cohen, Talk on the Wilde Side (London: Routledge, 1993); Elaine Showalter, Sexual Anarchy: Gender and Culture at the Fin-de-Siècle (London: Virago, 1992). See Sarah Burns, Introduction and Chapter Three, Inventing the Modern Artist: Art and Culture in Gilded Age America (New Haven: Yale, 1996) for a discussion of the impacts of Wilde’s trial on male artists.