Fashion as an Art Form with Andrew Bolton
Interview by Lynn Mathuthu | Photography by Brigitte Lacombe
For nearly a decade, Andrew Bolton, OBE has led The Costume Institute at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Drawing on his strong background in anthropology, he approaches fashion by identifying the similarities between cultures, human behaviour and beliefs. This spring’s Costume Institute exhibition [at The Met], guest curated by Slaves to Fashion author and scholar Monica L. Miller, with Bolton and his team, focuses on the significance of the Black dandy. By highlighting Black sartorial style and the formation of Black identity within the African diaspora, The Met continues to spotlight how fashion and costume can deconstruct societal and political hierarchies.
Bolton’s curiosity about human behaviour has led to some of the most visited exhibitions at The Met, including but not limited to Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty (2011), my personal favourite – China: Through the Looking Glass (2015), and Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination (2018). These annual exhibitions, launched by fashion’s most glamorous night – The Met Gala – welcome millions of visitors who witness the work of Bolton and his team. It is clear to many among these millions that Bolton’s curatorial approach aims to democratise fashion and present it as an accessible art form for all.
In the conversation ahead, Bolton walks us through his career, inspirations and hopes for this ephemeral industry, as well as what to expect from his next exhibition.
Lynn Mathuthu: Growing up, I understand you were heavily inspired by magazines like Blitz, The Face or Arena. Is there a particular issue you remember having a significant impact on you as a burgeoning fashion lover?
Andrew Bolton: I recall a 1987 issue of The Face with a story that particularly focused on Leigh Bowery and Trojan [born Gary Barnes]. Trojan was Leigh’s creative partner as well as sexual partner, and he (Trojan) unfortunately died of a drug overdose. They were at the forefront of the Taboo club in London.
They were so inspiring – they broke every rule and used fashion to confront people’s prejudices. They destigmatised heteronormative conventions of dress and identity, and there was also great pathos to them. It was a hedonistic time, and the club embodied that spirit. They gave rise to great designers like John Galliano, who had just graduated from Central Saint Martins and was a habitué of the Taboo club.
I was living in the north of England at the time, but I experienced it through the pages of magazines like Blitz and The Face. To me, they were heroic because of how fearless they were in how they presented themselves, which had a big impact on me. I’ve always felt that fashion should challenge expectations, be provocative and push boundaries, and that issue really stayed with me.
LM: At that time, those publications must have been quite transgressive, not only for their subject matter but also for their boundary pushing.
AB: It resonated because it was Margaret Thatcher’s England, and we were faced with very conservative values – just as we are now. I think if I were to revisit that story today, it would likely have the same impact on me, given the current state of the world.
LM: The Met has garnered significant attention by hosting exhibitions featuring fashion icons such as Alexander McQueen, Rei Kawakubo, and Karl Lagerfeld. How do you approach curating shows around lesser-known designers in a way that still captures public interest and encourages visitors to engage with the work?
AB: At the moment I’m finding that many up-and-coming independent designers are engaging with contemporary issues, not just the environment, but also questions around gender, diversity and inclusion. Many younger designers today are responding directly to the social, political and cultural climate.
We explored this in our 2021 exhibition, In America: A Lexicon of Fashion, where we focused primarily on emerging designers. It was part of a two-part show; the second, In America: An Anthology of Fashion (2022), looked at designers who have been historically overlooked. We aimed to spotlight their creativity and contributions to the fashion industry. That also included anonymous designers. Often, and I’m guilty of this myself, curators tend to focus on designers with name recognition, whether that’s contemporary or 19th-century garments with known labels. But sometimes anonymous designs show more invention and creativity. In this particular exhibition, I was interested in anonymity. How do we create a profile of a designer that we know nothing about? This is something we’re looking at focusing more on down the line.
LM: I agree. I discovered the story of African American designer Ann Lowe in the 2021 exhibition, and hearing you speak about her work was so impactful. She designed Jacqueline Kennedy’s wedding dress, and highlighting her contributions felt so important. Without that, her name might have faded into the archives without receiving the public recognition she truly deserved.
AB: We also featured Elizabeth Keckley, who was the dressmaker to Mary Todd Lincoln. It was a way to showcase Black designers who have been historically overlooked within the historical fashion canon. We’re continuing to do that in all our exhibitions. We’re committed to including designers who have been written out of fashion history.
LM: This year’s Met Gala exhibition was the first time that I saw a mannequin that looked like me – a Zimbabwean person. I know you worked with co-curator Monica L. Miller to bring the exhibition to life, including developing mannequins with more representative features. Was that part of the process just as thrilling for you as curating the rest of the exhibition?
AB: Yes, it really was. With the current exhibition, Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, I came across [artist] Tanda Francis’ work during Covid. One of her sculptures was installed in Queensbridge Park, New York City, and it was extraordinary – it had a profile with such a realistic face. When Monica and I began working on Superfine, we approached Tanda to see if she’d be interested in designing a sculpture specifically for the exhibition.
We’ve done similar things in the past, and in the 2023 exhibition Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty, we created four mannequin faces based on figurines Karl had collected over the years across different fashion houses. It’s something we try to personalise. Even in Heavenly Bodies, the mannequins were loosely inspired by Joan of Arc – as an abstract ideal of a celestial being and martyr.
Especially after the McQueen exhibition, we’ve aimed to make our shows multi-sensory. The goal is always to create an immersive environment, and the mannequins play a critical role in achieving this. We want the installation to carry the narrative of the exhibition, and the mannequins help bring that to life.
LM: You’ve mentioned the curation of each exhibition is often informed and inspired by what is currently happening within the cultural zeitgeist. How do you settle on a single idea?
AB: We always try to work with a topic that seems timely and attempt to define a cultural trend or shift as it’s about to happen. We always try to offer new ways to look at clothes, whether it’s through the lens of history, aesthetics or psychology. At the moment, we’re focusing on politics. It’s not just about finding a topic that resonates; it’s also about finding an approach that connects with the audience. I think it’s both the right topic and the right way of looking at that topic that allows the public to resonate. You have to be flexible, keep an open mind and always stay aware of what’s happening in the world. That’s what I try to do, at least.
LM: I think that’s also part of democratising this very gate-kept industry, because then the general public, those who aren’t into fashion, can see that it’s a way of communicating really important topics, whether political or cultural.
AB: We also try to re-contextualise fashion. One of the strategies I tend to use is to juxtapose the old and the new, hopefully in surprising combinations. I see it as a tonic effect, placing a historical costume next to something contemporary. I think the past informs the present, and the present enlivens the past. Like having an 18th-century corset next to a Jean Paul Gaultier Madonna cone bra – I like that comparison.
LM: Fashion is moving at an even faster pace than usual, with design houses frequently changing creative directors. Does the ephemeral nature of the fashion industry thrill you or scare you?
AB: At the moment, I think it saddens me when I see the ever-revolving door of fashion houses and designers. Incredibly talented designers often aren’t given the chance to make their mark at a fashion house. If they’re lucky, they get two to three years, and if they can’t turn the brand around, they’re out the door. That really saddens me. I think there’s a lack of appreciation for creativity, invention and a designer’s vision. It’s becoming deflated by the corporate and commercial sides of fashion.
That said, I love the pace of fashion and how quickly it responds to the zeitgeist, more than any other art form. I love that it’s always trying to be democratic and accessible. Its immediacy and ephemerality are part of its strength.
Often, within art museums in particular, fashion isn’t always seen as an important art form because of its ephemerality and its closeness to the body. There are very few traditional philosophers who have spoken about fashion – [Georg] Hegel is one of the few, but he talked about drapery in the classical ideal, not fashion itself. I think that’s because fashion is worn on the body and has a function (though not always). To me, that is the power of fashion; it can embody your experience. But in art museums, that’s often seen as a negative.
LM: In Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion, you spoke about how garments don’t lose their life once they enter a museum; in fact, they gain a new kind of value. That idea shifted how I see fashion’s pace. Do you think museums can slow fashion down in a meaningful way, giving pieces the space to be appreciated for their craftsmanship and reinterpreted over time?
AB: I think what was really interesting about Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion is the idea that you can reawaken fashion, whether through sight, sound or smell. There’s a common misconception that once a garment enters a museum, it loses its life. But I think it’s actually the opposite. Museums preserve history, but they also keep the garments alive. For example, there’s a Dior dress that has been displayed eight different times since I’ve been there, and each exhibition interprets it in a new way. I believe each exhibition keeps the garments alive through fresh interpretations. It’s through these new perspectives and analyses that the garments remain vibrant and relevant, continually reawakened with each showing.
LM: What is something you’re most proud of in your career?
AB: I think it’s probably the Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty (2011) exhibition. That show was such a turning point. Harold Koda, my former boss, used to say, “Fashion in an art museum is like the pretty sister who gets all the dates but none of the respect”. There’s a hierarchy in the arts, and I didn’t really see it in England, and I’m not sure if you see it in Australia, but in some places, fashion is still seen as lesser within the art world.
It’s almost as if some art critics are still clinging to 19th-century ideals, as if Andy Warhol and Marcel Duchamp never happened. They’re still resisting the idea of fashion being accepted in the same way as other art forms. I never felt that at the Victoria and Albert Museum, because it’s a decorative art museum so it embraces fashion as part of its foundation. But I do think the McQueen show marked a paradigm shift. People started to view fashion as a legitimate art form.
After the show, I kept hearing people say, “Oh, this man is an artist”. And when you look at the full scope of his archive, it’s clear he absolutely was. But at the same time, he was incredibly pragmatic. There were pieces like beautifully tailored yet completely unwearable suits, garments made out of glass or razor shells. Those were mostly created for the runway, and they’re often seen as his most innovative expressions.
What made McQueen such a compelling designer was his deep focus on Romanticism. He was one of the few designers who could truly move you on a visceral level – you felt disgust, horror, awe. I recently saw the Caravaggio 2025 exhibition at the Palazzo Barberini in Rome, and I left with the same feeling I had after a McQueen show. Those intense, emotional paintings really draw you in. That was McQueen, too. Part of the show’s success was how powerfully affecting it was. So yes, I’d say that McQueen exhibition was the one.