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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 In Huyghe's cosmos, the exhibit is alive (conscious, even), insisting that our outdated framework of separating nature and technology is no longer sufficient to capture our evolving cultural landscape.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.
New York Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Pierre Huyghe's Bracing Dark Mirror of A.I. Has Its U.S. Debut
Tech boosters and doomers alike wonder when A.I. will be truly be sentient, able to think or feel. Pierre Huyghe asks a less predictable question: What is machinelike about human beings? Reflexes, impulses, routines: His show at Marian Goodman Gallery in Lower Manhattan, titled 'In Imaginal,' hints at how alien so-called artificial intelligence really is — and, on reflection, how mysterious we are to ourselves. In Huyghe's 2024 video 'Camata,' installed at Goodman, the camera pans across cracking bones in a picturesque desert. This skeleton is the scene's most human presence. Soon, a robotic arm enters the frame, gripping a turquoise stone; an autonomous camera whirs and focuses; a motorized reflector adjusts the light. 'Camata' was filmed by a hybrid crew of A.I.-guided and human-operated robots, staked out around the remains of an unknown young man — likely a soldier from a 19th-century war — found in Chile's Atacama Desert. In what is meant to be a funerary ritual, the robotic cameras spend as much time filming one another as they do examining the man's rotting shoes or curled hand. 'Camata' is a forlorn and affective artwork, and a brutally crisp picture of human-A.I. interaction. An algorithm edits the film in real time. The software's motivation is arcane. The work is constantly changing, with no beginning or end. Huyghe (pronounced weeg), a lauded French artist, is known for his striking environments blurring boundaries of art, nature and technology. Since the 1990s he has made a name for himself by 'collaborating' with nonhumans. He's given a crab a gold mask for a shell, dyed the leg of a dog named Human pink, and attached a living beehive to the head of a nude statue. His current show at Goodman marks the U.S. debut of works, including 'Camata,' which premiered last year during the Venice Biennale, offsite at the Punta della Dogana, a contemporary art museum within a maritime customs complex. It demonstrates the ways Huyghe has incorporated A.I. models into his explorations of inhumanness. The gallery at Goodman is dark and cavernous. Just seven pieces — comprising two videos, four sculptures and three masks — are spread across two floors. In an upstairs room, dimly lit in red, the only work is the startling sight of a person crouching in the corner with a glowing plastic shell covering their face. At seemingly random intervals, the mask — part of a work titled 'Idiom' — blurts out nonsense speech generated by machine learning, a series of trills, yeows and slurps. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
