We’ve reached peak selfie. Where does that leave the art of the self-portrait? Central Saint Martins students have their say.
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Organising a self-portrait photoshoot at art school is less spontaneous than it sounds. We needed a studio because we needed lighting and a backdrop. Not to mention a camera. And because we needed a studio, we had to herd people in from fashion studios and corridors and line them up against the wall while their predecessors were jumping, or kissing, or disrobing.
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‘That was amazing; we smooched,’ said womenswear student Esme Woodruff, clutching to her best friend Jeremy Fristensky. Two minutes prior, they’d been recreating Rodin’s The Kiss. ‘We just fell in love in front of the camera,’ says Jeremy before they trot off hand in hand.
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‘I didn’t really know what to do with myself,’ came from one jewellery student. ‘I guess I always look a bit wonky when someone takes a photo of me.’ And then there were the two graphics students whose faces were hidden – and bound together – by a scarf, making for the most reticent and intriguing photograph of the day. Unsurprisingly, fashion students were most excited about photographing themselves. Ironically, they were quickest to take off their clothes.
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Fashion Design with Knitwear student Lynn Yaung estimates that he takes two selfies every twenty minutes. He backtracks and says that’s once a day, but the former sounds more convincing. Lynn has an Instagram following of over 4,360 people. He has posted 1,320 times, the majority of which are pictures of himself. (Not all of them are self-portraits, but his selfie cache is impressive.) ‘I would feel left out if I wasn’t on social media with other people,’ he admits. Then shrugs, ‘And I’d miss the attention.’
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By contrast, his friend and partner in portrait Maya Kitagawa has 222 Instagram followers and 16 posts. None of which he features in. ‘Social media doesn’t matter to me,’ explains Maya, as the pair go back in for round two, shedding their shoes and clothes as they go. ‘We’re going to get married when we graduate,’ Lynn calls over his shoulder.
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There were the typical reservations: ‘I’m not photogenic. I like being behind the camera, not in front.’ This coming from photography technician Jade Heritage, who just missed the digital native boat. ‘It’s completely separate to my work in photography and video. And I wouldn’t say I do portraits much anyway,’ she tells me. ‘For me this was really uncomfortable. If I was doing it myself at home and could check the photographs as I go along it’d be better.’
Notably, none of our participants admitted to believing in the higher art of the self-portrait: no Cindy Shermans, or Andy Warhols, or Salvador Dalis. Not even a Vivian Maier. Though Knitwear student Jisoo Jang has committed to taking two selfies a day for the rest of the year – ‘It’s just for practice. I’m getting used to it,’ – it’s not in the name of art. Maybe self-portraits are too much of a commodity – implicit in the selling of laxative tea and teeth whitening kits – to be taken seriously in the age of Instagram.
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Womenswear student Declan Needham disagrees. Needham uses Instagram as an online performance space; his recent Balenciaga performance, involving mounds of dirt, interpretive dance dressed as rabbits, and a fine art film, has been viewed on the social media platform 560 times. ‘The way for me to explain a concept is having the visuals as well as the garment – it’s a full experience,’ he tells me. ‘I always put myself in my work,’ he tells me. I drape on myself to get my silhouette. And that extends to my Instagram, too – it’s performance. I’m not performing for anyone; my Instagram is my space. But performing gives me a giant buzz.’ Needham looks to music artists Arca and Mykki Blanco as pioneers of performance art.
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‘I had someone say to me that my Instagram is completely different to how I am in real life. And I am quite a shy person when I don’t know people,’ he resolves. ‘After my Balenciaga performance I understand what that person meant. It is a completely separate thing when I perform; and I worry that people think I’m two separate people.’ The soft-spoken designer I speak to is admittedly removed from the grinning showman hoisting his friend Jamie Sutherland into positions reminiscent of Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing two minutes earlier.
We have reached peak self-portrait: that much is undeniable, even for those who consider Instagram to be the skid row of popular culture. I wonder how many people who participated in this project put a photograph of themselves doing the project on their Instagram story. Or how many took a selfie that evening, to estimate how they might have looked when pulling the trigger in the studio. One thing is for sure, though: all the kids are doing it.
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If art elevates the commonplace, then the self-portrait (fallen away to “selfie”) has reached peak popularity. Instagram may not be everyone’s idea of a great fine art facilitator – many abhor the very idea. But this much is true: all the kids are doing it.
