The night of the Met Gala, dozens of costumed protesters gathered outside to demonstrate against Jeff Bezos and the concentration of wealth the event represents. Inside, stars were referencing Klimt and Tom of Finland in looks that cost more than the protesters' annual rent. The photogenic irony was total. And it was not accidental.
Spectacle Requires a Counter-Spectacle
The Met Gala has evolved into something the fashion and art industries struggle to categorize because it is simultaneously a fundraiser, a branding exercise, a performance art piece, and a political flashpoint. Who Decides War dressing Justin Jefferson in something "like no one else" is its own form of counter-programming within the event itself: a Brooklyn streetwear label rooted in reclaimed military fabrics infiltrating the most institutional fashion evening on the calendar. The Carnegie International, reviewed this week in Hyperallergic as providing "vital commentary on authoritarianism and militarism," is asking whether an art institution can be genuinely critical from inside the infrastructure that funds it. The Met Gala poses the same question every May and every May answers it the same way: yes, but only if the criticism is also beautiful.
Iran, Venice, and the Geopolitics of the Invitation List
The geopolitical resonance deepened this week when Iran withdrew from the Venice Biennale, the other great cultural event where attendance is itself a political statement. The Biennale's invitation list is a map of which nations are currently willing to perform cultural participation in a Western institutional framework. Iran's exit, following the broader geopolitical context of US-Iran ceasefire negotiations playing out in financial markets simultaneously, is the equivalent of not showing up to the Gala. The protest, the withdrawal, the outrageous look that goes viral: all are forms of communication addressed to the same audience, using the event as infrastructure while refusing its terms. The costume is always the argument.