Immediately after publishing the previous post, I saw a news headline that shocked me. One of the greatest and most controversial designers ever, Alexander McQueen, was found dead today. The media are reporting his death as a suicide.
Tim Blanks of Style.com had this to say:
He was "an arch romantic with a pessimistic streak. It produced some of the most beautiful, shocking images in the history of fashion, but it’s a state of mind that can lead to endless disappointments. The death of McQueen’s mother last week would have validated his pessimism. It would undoubtedly have taken away his most vital support. It’s awful to imagine him trying—and failing—to cope, and one can only hope that, if he was looking for peace, he found it."
What makes the soul of an artist so tortured?
The image used in this post is from McQueen's 2001 Spring show at Style.com. On the runway was a cube which represented a mental hospital holding cell. The models were dressed in designs that gave the impression of insanity and dementia.
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