You guys, I’m throwing in my tuppence in defense of the joke. If anyone has a problem with that, may I refer you to Messers Margiela, Prada and Westwood, as well as the hatchet faced editor who is daring you not to laugh at her outfit during Fashion Week.

I have a friend who comes from Tokyo. The other day, we were talking about the meaning of the word “subversive” and how it relates to fashion. She said: in Japan, we are very good at this, and made a gesture to demonstrate what she meant. She flipped me the bird with one hand while hiding her finger behind the other.

Visual languages are full of jokes, because jokes are important. They are particularly important in fashion because fashion is concerned with the breaking and upholding of social convention. They can be deadly serious, even when reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously. Sometimes they are our last line of defense against totalitarianism.

Janet, I agree with you on the idea of “sizzle and fizzle”, which to me sums up the difference between good art and bad art. I’ve read and reread that section, and I feel like she’s using the same idea to indulge in some finger-wagging Puritanism, scolding people for enjoying a good laugh. Too bad, because everywhere else, she’s absolutely on the money.

Approprio, I may just appreciate what you said even better than
the entire article. Dichotomies always need to be acknowledged,
especially with fashion,

Vildy, thank you. Kind of you to say so and you’re quite right, it’s important to embrace these paradoxes, in all aspects of life.

And now I come to think of it, the joke about the ‘smoked vintage’ is probably on her. I mean, it was a graduation project. A conceptual piece, deliberately ephemeral, not a usable piece of furniture. Who would buy that to put in the house? Not me. However, the movement she is talking about gave rise to some locally made, affordable designs using reclaimed materials, including a nice book case which I did buy.

This is how design evolves, develops, advances. I could go on but I’d rather not dump on an otherwise excellent article.

ETA: I looked up the collection and I was wrong, a couple of pieces did go into production. They seem to be holding their value just fine.

https://www.pamono.eu/smoke-ar.....s-set-of-2

Approprio, so glad you weighed in! Great thoughts. I agree that the joke is important. Questioning norms and poking a finger in the eye of what is accepted and established is absolutely necessary! But I also believe in all things in moderation, even jokes. ;-D

Janet, totally agree. The best jokes are made in that very spirit, same as the difference between good and bad art.

I’ve thought so long and hard about this that I may as well have the bingo card for all the other points she raised, and this is the odd man out. As one for whom humor is an integral part of the aesthetic, I’m very tuned in to these kinds of value judgements, particularly when raised by self appointed style gurus. To say the least, this kind of advice is unhelpful. Her argument would have stood perfectly well without it.

Great article! My most loved things are memory evocative or have some kind of connection to another time or people . . . Maybe just meaningful in some way and express something about me.

I sorta skipped over the joke idea, because while I think the Skygarden lamp is beautiful, I also thought it was a ‘joke’ and couldn’t tell the difference between it and the smoked furniture in terms of genre. I probably wouldn’t be able to find a place for either in my home. The only fashion ‘joke’ I can readily imagine is Dolly Parton and Dolly is an Icon. Is the blue dog a painting joke? I think I’m too dim for jokes, lol

OK, rachylou, you’ve convinced me. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, because everything else she says in the article is so salient. We need to workshop this.

What exactly does she mean when she says to look for joy not jokes? What if we can’t tell the difference? Am I wrong for wanting Dorothea Tanning’s Tableau Vivant on my wall? I am fairly sure I would never get bored, but does it give me joy? All I know is that I find it funny and alarming and I would totally hang it if it weren’t already part of the Scottish national collection. The Matisse prints I inherited are very tasteful, but I think I prefer the George Grosz. They always make me laugh.

There seems to be a whole area of behavior and utility, associated with a very human drive to make meaning out of our identity. There are the things that call to us that sometimes turn out to be mistakes. How do we know in advance what will make us happy?

Well, the line between whimsy and twee, clever humor and jokey, etc., is subjective. We all have varying tastes and tolerances for these things. And we all have different senses of humor -- one person's Monty Python is another person's Jeff Foxworthy.

I think it's important not to get too bogged down in the weeds with absolute pronouncements on these things but take the larger points into account as they apply *to our individual preferences*. The point is to be authentic, right? There are a lot of styles (in art, decor, and fashion) that I enjoy looking at, but I don't necessarily want them in my home or on my body.

My interpretation when the author references "joy not jokes" remains that she's emphasizing the development of personal preferences that deeply resonate rather than following a quick cheerful trend for the sake of quirk. That quirk may indeed point to a deeper meaning, or develop into a longer shift in aesthetics that goes beyond trend, but if it doesn't feel true to the wearer, it's all just for show. But again, that's my read on it, when read in the spirit of the rest of the essay.

I dunno, I'm just a photographer!

Well, Janet, you know how I like to overthink these things, particularly as they relate to the emergence and synthesis of form.

We are emotional, and we are analytical. When we engage with fashion, we are at the mercy of a slew of social, commercial and environmental constraints over which we have no control whatsoever. The more rational we think we are about these things, the more likely they are to trip us up. Meanwhile, we are sending out and receiving subliminal messages all the time, and every one of us speaks a subtly different language.

When the author talks about jokes, either she is making a subjective and unhelpful statement about the nature of Good Taste (TM), at odds with the rest of the story, or she is referring to something else which she, her editor and her immediate audience would understand, but leaves those of a different disposition or cultural persuasion scratching our heads. I have enough respect for all the other things she says to want to know what she means. I want to know what quality of unavoidable experience she thinks I should be avoiding. Would it make more sense if we substitute the word “novelty”? I could get behind that, but she covers it elsewhere. No shortage of beautiful things to buy, when ninety percent of everything is rubbish.

And suddenly I find myself back on the treadmill, except now the treadmill is different. I’m reminded of a deathless line from When Harry Met Sally: Everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor, but they couldn't possibly all have good taste. There will inevitably be times when we are confronted with the absurd, like that awful wagon wheel coffee table nobody likes except Jess.

OK. I’ll shut up now.

A thought is percolating re jokes—and a difference between that which is pleasing and that which is *merely amusing.* It occurs to me that there are many more things that I find amusing than I actually approve of for my own personal life. Like $1 pack LEGO—they amuse me but I truly wish my mother would stop using them as stocking stuffers…

Well, this is a great discussion, and I forgot about the wagon wheel coffee table, LOL!

Fun aside: Bruno Kirby was a super sweet person. I got it know him when he was in the cast of the film Tin Men, which filmed in my town, and the cast stayed at the hotel where I worked. He’s so young in WHMS!

Maybe it's as simple as some jokes give us joy? Or something akin to joy. We don't tire of these jokes (contrary to what the author implies) and those ones are the ones that are authentic to us, as Janet said? (Because you might see whimsy or twee where I see humour and vice versa). I don't know...

Such an interesting discussion, though, and I do 100% agree with Approprio that humour shouldn't be sidelined or treated as "less than" in some way. A lot of serious art works through humour.

I was thinking some more about the "go for bold" instruction and people's varying responses to that. I will say that while I often respond with joy to colour and bold style elements, I also and equally, perhaps even more, respond joyfully to quieter, less visible elements of style such as the perfect fit for me -- items I'm most likely to adore over time are texturally pleasing to me and fit just right (oh how rare that seems, no?)

Just one added thought re jokes -- sort of building on something Rachy said. A joke might be funny the first time you hear them, but you rarely laugh as hard at the second telling, and might yawn by the third. The joy you get from the joke is largely in the punchline. In the -- "I didn't see that coming" moment. It amuses in the moment, but doesn't become a source of daily joy. (Unless it's a joke with an emotional connection -- like the Lego stocking stuffer, perhaps, which transforms joke to story that might get more meaningful with time.)

Carol, yes! That’s where I was going with the “sizzle and fizzle” comparison. A big first impression but lacking depth with repeated exposure. I think it applies to the “joke” idea — not all jokes are equal, some are slapstick and some are satire. Likewise, I think there are “humor” elements in design and art and fashion that range in sophistication.

So much to think about here! I’m shifting away from jokes…… As I look around my closet and house, “collect stories, not stuff” comes to mind. The items on display, all the artwork, all my favorite items including my furniture, has a story. The practical and useful items in my kitchen, home office, basement and garage also have stories. For example, I’m strangely attached to my stick/hook shaped staple remover. It was a gift from the office manager of my previous private practice. I recently donated a spare, unused, claw shaped staple remover to DH student’s. I can easily find stories, often sentimental, in my jewelry and accessories. It’s harder to find them in my clothes, although not impossible. It seems I favor pieces with direct or indirect ties to experiences. Some experiences are recent and some remote. The pieces that are less used literally feel like “stuff”.

@Janet
I agree that Organised Complexity can play in art too, though the degree of which will be determined by the individual artist's tastes. For example, my poems tend to be long & meandering but I prefer it when the ending 'wraps up' points made earlier (or at least from the beginning) so that we may come full circle. Others prefer cliffhangers.

@approprio
The first thing that came to my mind from your Dichotomy comment was Hong Kong's 2019 protestors' gear - the humble black t-shirt. Often worn with all black, it was both simple & serious, yet also subversive, in its messaging - especially since the term that the media & police started to use at the time for young people (assumed to be for the protests) was 'cockroaches'. Simultaneously hidden but everywhere.
Even moreso after they started to accessorise ithe all-black with bright yellow (just the face masks persist as a relic of that time now, but I remember the yellow umbrellas & raincoats (in memory of the young man who lost his life) just like it was yesterday...)
Not sure if it's an 'appropriate' parallel to make, but my brain is unfortunately all about making connections between seemingly unrelated things - sorry