The Fall/Winter 2014 collection from the high-end designers was inspired by the mosaics of Monreale, a small Sicilian town famous for its art. The original religious images depicted on the collection date back to the 12th century, when artists “from Byzantium and Venice were called in to realize these striking works,” Dolce & Gabbana said in a press release.
The mosaics depict ornate and colourful portraits of saints, angels and kings, laid on a golden background. For the collection, the designers have replicated many of these saintly portraits across the front of dresses and bustiers.
Such inspiration wouldn’t mark the first time religious art and symbolism has fuelled consumerism. It’s a common overlap — from the getups worn by Lady Gaga and Madonna before her, to more understated gestures like wearing a plain crucifix on a gold chain.
This collection, however, raises some new questions about faith and fashion in our culture. Perhaps the most immediate is whether or not this detracts from the original art. What some may see as a beautiful homage to the mosaics, others might see as an inappropriate context for sensitive images. Though this is true for any art that inspires another form, it becomes especially important when we consider the messages and meanings of religious art.
“It doesn’t offend me,” said Fr. John-Mark Missio, the self-proclaimed “culture vulture” at St. Augustine’s Seminary in Toronto. “It simply speaks of the lack of understanding of the deeper meaning of it all.”
Missio zeroed in on a few pieces in the collection that he found difficult to understand. These depict St. Agatha, a saint who is mostly known for having her breasts cut off before she was martyred.
“I personally would feel very odd wearing any body covering that had St. Agatha on it,” Missio said.
The original mosaic and the clothing depict a beaming and fully clothed saint — no indication of her gruesome end. But, as it is with all art, there are plenty of possible interpretations for the choice to include it. Though it is easy to assume the designers were unaware of St. Agatha’s back story, it’s also conceivable that they were familiar with it. In that case, these pieces would require an entirely new reading. (Dolce & Gabbana did not reply to a request for comment.)
The issue here is that there is little consensus about the feelings this collection is supposed to raise. Indeed, that may be the point of all art. Some could conceive, as the designers likely did, that the original art — by virtue of its beauty and, perhaps, underlying religious meaning — would uplift the collection, making it something more than a part of the pile that gets buried under the constant demand for new designs.
But, as Missio pointed out, the fashion industry doesn’t settle on any one thing for very long. It seems likely that this is just another one of those things.
“It just reminds us that everything is fodder for pop culture,” he said. “Basically the mosaic’s number came up.”
In Dolce & Gabbana’s press release, the designers seek to distance themselves from this way of thinking by highlighting the extreme care that went into each of these pieces.
“As the art of mosaic-making is a slow and precise one, achieved by placing a single piece next to the other… tailoring is made single stitch after single stitch.”
The complexity of these two forms only compound our difficulties judging them from a religious perspective.
Even more straightforward examples like wearing a rosary as an accessory can yield diverging opinions, suggested professor Bernhard Leistle, who teaches a course on sign theory at Ottawa’s Carleton University.
“We have reality mediated by signs but the meaning of these signs is always open to dispute,” Leistle said. “Religions are right in the middle of it.”
These signs and images — like the crucifix — are charged with meaning, but when art introduces new combinations and contexts, that meaning becomes much more fluid.
“Even when you take basic examples, you get into quite intricate arguments about things very easily,” he said. “With religious art it becomes even more convoluted.”
(Bronca, 21, is a fourth-year journalism student at Carleton University in Ottawa)