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Vogue Singapore
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Vogue Singapore
A look at Bottega Veneta's cultural footprint through time
Courtesy of Bottega Veneta There are brands that dress the moment and then there are those that seem to shape time itself. Born in Vicenza in 1966, in a region cradled by the Palladian hills and steeped in centuries of goldsmithing, Bottega Veneta has always felt more like a philosophy than a fashion label. From its infancy, the brand's artisans worked with leather in a way that defied the logic of machinery. Lacking industrial sewing tools strong enough to handle their fine hides, they invented Intrecciato, an intricate lattice-like weave that remains the house's enduring emblem. More than a technique, it is a metaphor signifying luxury without excess and a tribute to the beauty of invisibly meticulous work. 'Taken together, what stands out most in Bottega Veneta's cultural initiatives is that there seems to be no attempt to universalise taste.' This reverence for craftsmanship has, over time, translated into a broader cultural ethos. In 1983, decades before 'brand philanthropy' became a buzzword, Bottega Veneta underwrote the restoration of Titian's 'The Penitent Saint Jerome' in Milan—an act of reverence not for publicity but for posterity. It is this commitment to legacy rather than branding that distinguishes the house's cultural footprint. As I linger at the entrance of Liminal in the Leeum Museum of Art in Seoul, this conviction becomes even more apparent. Housed in the sprawling expanse of a pitch-dark gallery where you can barely make out what is in front of you, French contemporary artist Pierre Huyghe's first solo show in South Korea arrives with the support of Bottega Veneta. South Korean actress Kim Da Mi at the Leeum Museum of Art in Seoul, attending the opening of Pierre Huyghe's exhibition, Liminal. Courtesy of Bottega Veneta A wholly transportive universe spanning large-scale video, installations and even performance, Liminal has no prescribed route. Instead, what awaits is a shifting terrain of image, matter and mood: a masked monkey enacts uncanny rituals; an aquarium hums with artificial intelligence and crustacean indifference; and faceless figures dressed in Bottega Veneta garments glide through Huyghe's constructed ecosystems—like apparitions with impeccable taste. In Huyghe's cosmos, the exhibit is alive (conscious, even), insisting that our outdated framework of separating nature and technology is no longer sufficient to capture our evolving cultural landscape. That Bottega Veneta has lent its hand to this effort makes sense. The house's legacy is one of tactile mastery, yes, but also of subtle provocation. Here, in collaboration with the Leeum Museum of Art, it champions a wonderfully unsettling vision of the world. Presented with the support of Bottega Veneta, the French contemporary artist's first solo show in South Korea spanned large- scale video, installations and performance. Courtesy of Bottega Veneta As one of South Korea's top artistic institutions, Leeum is, in itself, an architectural marvel—designed by Mario Botta, Jean Nouvel and Rem Koolhaas. Inside, a 12th-century celadon sits metres away from Yves Klein and Suki Seokyeong Kang; gold-threaded ritual robes glow under the same light as a Louise Bourgeois spider. The museum's curatorial approach transcends both country and era, privileging nuance over narrative. As a result, the museum represents less an institutional partner for Bottega Veneta than a kindred spirit. The brand's relationship with the museum began in 2023 and has since been cultivated with care. What has grown between them is a cross-cultural dialogue on the value of craft. Just as the museum preserves the intricate traditions of Korean metalwork and ceramics, Bottega Veneta continues to honour its artisanal roots through Intrecciato and hand-finished leatherwork. The synergy lies not in sameness, but in the parallel belief that heritage is not a static thing. Instead, it needs to be re-interpreted and reimagined. It's a sensibility that extends beyond Seoul into the rest of the continent. Over the past few years, Bottega Veneta has steadily expanded its footprint across Asia—not through ubiquitous storefronts or monogrammed flash, but through a carefully calibrated localised presence. There are ambassadors, yes, but even these appointments feel unusually grounded. Instead of flattening its representatives into global campaign cliches, Bottega Veneta seems to prefer that they remain rooted in their own contexts, their own emotional registers. Now in its fourth year, the 2024 edition of Bottega for Bottegas showcased brass objects by Fonderia Artistica Valese; a wooden puzzle by Signor Blum; a set of playing cards in a leather case by Modiano; and glass creations by Laguna~B, Bruno Amadi and Wave. Courtesy of Bottega Veneta This respect for specificity is arguably most visible in The Square, a series of intimate cultural programmes the brand has hosted in prominent cities around the world. Each edition brings together local artists and thinkers in a temporary space that functions more like a salon than a showroom. In Tokyo, guests encountered tatami rooms, ikebana installations and conversations on impermanence; in Dubai, there were Arabic calligraphers, poets and scent-makers in dialogue with one another, rather than orbiting a Western centre. Then there is Bottega for Bottegas—an initiative that perhaps speaks most directly to the brand's instinct for humility. Launched as a gesture of reciprocity, it spotlights small businesses around the world, ranging from florists and ceramicists to noodle- makers and bookbinders. In its third edition, it featured three artisans hailing from Asia, each rooted in their own cultural histories and techniques: Taiwanese artist Cheng Tsung Feng, known for his elaborate bamboo installations; third-generation Korean kite-maker Kitai Rhee; and Chinese artisan Liu Wenhui, who makes modular sculptures inspired by classical joinery. Through these collaborations, Bottega Veneta offers not just visibility but solidarity—using its global platform to amplify the value of small-scale craft. In 2022, Bottega Veneta collaborated with The Strand, one of New York's most iconic bookstores, releasing a line of leather totes (some featuring its emblematic Intrecciato weave). Courtesy of Bottega Veneta Taken together, what stands out most in the brand's cultural initiatives is that there seems to be no attempt to universalise taste. Instead, Bottega Veneta seems content to become a guest, a student even, in the cultures it enters. The result is something that is quieter and perhaps more radical: a luxury house that doesn't aspire to omnipresence but to intimacy. In an age when cultural capital is often confused with reach, there may be no approach more subversive than this. Vogue Singapore's June 'Gold' issue will be out on newsstands from 13 June and is available to preorder online.
Korea Herald
10-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Newly restored Joseon folding screen on display at Leeum
Restored by experts at Leeum Museum of Art, 19th-century folding screen to return to Peabody Essex Museum following Leeum show A folding screen depicting a banquet hosted by a provincial governor in 1826 during the Joseon era (1392-1910) will be on display for a month at the Leeum Museum of Art, which restored the painting that belongs to the Peabody Essex Museum in Massachusetts. The 16-month restoration effort began in November 2023 when Leeum became the first private museum in Korea to take part in the state-run Overseas Korean Cultural Heritage Foundation's annual project to restore Korean cultural objects held overseas. 'Welcoming Banquet of the Governor of Pyeongan,' an eight-panel screen, illustrates a banquet hosted in 1826 by the governor of Pyeongan Province — roughly coinciding with North and South Pyongyan provinces in northwestern North Korea today — to honor the two top candidates who had aced the grueling state examinations to become public officials. The screen was briefly on show at the National Museum of Korea in 1994, but 'the painting back then had not been as fully restored as it is now,' an OKCHF official said Monday during a preopening tour of the show, which opens Tuesday and runs through April 6. 'We now have identified the correct title for the work, and all eight panels are in the right sequence,' the official said of the 16-month restoration that included sifting through vast volumes of historical data to make informed retouches to the centuries-old folding screen. The Peabody Essex Museum acquired the painting in 1927, a purchase that left no paper trail that could shed light on how it was made or who it was bought from, according to the US museum. 'It took decades for us to finally get this restoration help,' said Kim Ji-yeon, curator of Korean art at Peabody. She noted that locating a highly skilled pool of experts on Korean folding screens had been next to impossible until the museum came to learn of the joint OKCHF-Leeum restoration plans. Nam Yumi, senior conservator at Leeum, said her team dedicated much of the restoration effort to 'filling up ten thousand holes' left by insects attracted to the rice flour on the screen. 'Rice flour had been applied all over the surface of the paper made with bamboo. Rice flour renders paint colors more vivid,' Nam said, adding that her team made sure paint pigments would not easily decay over time. The frames that hold the eight panels together were re-created, Nam added, referring to extensive research required to reflect their historicity. The panels had been separately framed with glass picture frames, and the researchers at Leeum had to determine the order of the panels, consulting another folding screen depicting the same area, among other materials. Accompanying the folding screen on exhibition at Leeum is a 'hwarot' — a traditional wedding robe worn by women during the Joseon era. Peabody, one of 20 museums abroad holding a ceremonial garment of this kind, had also asked for the hwarot to be restored. The Peabody Essex Museum, touting one of the world's largest Korean collections totaling some 1,800 pieces, said a Japanese antiques dealer donated the hwarot in 1927. How it was taken out of Korea remains unknown. 'It took 13 months to fully repair the hwarot,' another OKCHF official said of the garment embroidered with symbolic motifs — lotus flowers, peonies, phoenixes and butterflies — to express hopes for a prosperous marriage and a life of happiness. The hwarot is believed to have originally been only for royalty until it was allowed to be worn by nonroyals in the late 19th century. 'Hanji,' or mulberry paper, was found to be used to connect the outer and inner fabrics of the hwarot's sleeves, according to experts from a Dankook University team that led the hwarot restoration. The garment restoration cost OKCHF, the state-run foundation, some 300 million won ($206,000). The folding screen restoration was entirely funded by the Samsung Foundation of Culture, which operates Leeum. Leeum's restoration expertise came into the spotlight in 2015, when it helped a German museum restore a Korean celadon piece. In February 2023, restoration work began on two hanging scrolls by Korean independence fighter Ahn Jung-geun. In December of the same year, Leeum was charged with restoring the Joseon folding screen. After the March-April special exhibition at Leeum, the Peabody Essex Museum will showcase the two restored Korean objects in May. 'So far we have supported 58 projects in total to ensure Korean cultural heritage overseas is not only preserved, but displayed to give a global audience the chance to appreciate them,' said Kim Jung-hee, chair of the OKCHF.
