Brush and Palette

Jackson Pollock made a name for himself through his belief in the collective subconscious--or rather unconscious--that permeates his signature drip paintings. The spectator's eye is supposed to crystallize as it attaches itself to the many strings of splattered paint, lending purely visual sensations and appreciation of the mere medium as it was made. Critics of Pollock's time criticized the emphasis on illusion over representation--a concept that de-isolated itself in the latter part of the 20th century. As I was thinking about this lesson learned in my modern art class at Columbia, a place where the merging of ideas is as fast-paced as the movement of undercover fashion figures on the street, I wondered if the art of style is only relative to something greater, or something on a different side of life. When pieces are intentionally stated and displayed out in the open, does their wearer measure their worth based on the conceptions of others (pieces and people)? Who writes the novel of the personal dress code--one meant to suggest exterior influences, or express the inner core of oneself? I do firmly believe fashion can exist to question and confront one's aesthetic sense rather than to represent a larger meaning.

Maybe the garment designs the individual?