Dear Shaded Viewers and Diane,
As tenderly
toothsome as we've come to expect a Meadham Kirchhoff collection to be,
yesterday performance at the Mercer Street Studios introduced an element of melancholy
and lost innocence, a sweet touch of longing to Edward Meadham and Benjamin
Kirchhoff's line. A grainy projection of East German archival footage
and old communist cartoons lingered in the background, as the first five models
appeared at once, and went to sit in fold-up chairs by the left corner of the
room. They wore candid white smocks and hand painted rain boots, rubber and
felt, lace details and gauzy layers of flowers and stripes. One by one however,
these were swiftly peeled away as the boys stood up to meet the mildly
authoritative figures that just marched into the room, dressed in blue denim or
gray suits at times resembling boy scouts attires, till they were left in
nothing but their old fashioned leotards to walk out with.
Photos by Yume Takakura.
Later,
Silvia
