Martin Margiela: The art of absence

Martin Margiela is a fashion iconoclast celebrated for a creative vision that eschews ideas of propriety in favour of the radical, conceptual, and subversive. After stepping away from his eponymous label in 2008, he turned his focus to art, where his signature exploration of deconstruction, appropriation, and copy culture has continued with creative abound.

Margiela’s artistic approach resists simple categorization—like his work in fashion, it inhabits a permeable space between mediums and genres. His focus is less on the object than on what is revealed when the object is deconstructed or recontextualized. Through fragmenting and reassembling familiar forms, he explores the tension between the visible and invisible, questioning how each is understood and defined.

Moving into the art world has given Margiela the freedom to expand on ideas once bound to the rhythms of the fashion industry, all while preserving his signature anonymity—his aversion to interviews and industry events, photography and film, persists.

Discover a rare glimpse into Martin Margiela’s artistic world in our interview, where he reflects on the evolution of his creative vision, the intersection of fashion and art, and the enduring power of anonymity.

hube: Artists transcend the material world, entering the realm of symbols, ideas, and myths. Is this the best way to achieve immortality?

Martin Margiela: Achieving immortality is not at all one of my goals; I never think of this matter during the creative process. I love the opposite of eternal—the ephemeral, which is present in performances. For me, experiencing a particular atmosphere is more powerful than looking at any material artwork. As soon as a work is completed, I am excited to imagine its presentation. It is a moment of intense joy because it means it is ready to be shared. Unfortunately, I want to keep every newly finished artwork for myself, so I leave it in my atelier for a certain period to contemplate it as long as needed. Sometimes, enthusiastic reactions from outside help me to send it into the world.

h: Deconstruction, transformation, and moving beyond reason were important ideas in 20th-century art. These are closely linked to the concept of humanism. How do you see the future of humanism?

MM: Deconstruction and transformation have always been very dear to me. I dress mostly in secondhand clothes, so back in 1988, it felt obvious to present transformed secondhand clothes together with new fashion designs in one collection. The idea of giving new life to the discarded touched me, but it was highly unusual in the fashion world back then—sadly almost unacceptable. Today, I am happy to see how secondhand clothes have been ennobled as “vintage.”

In my art, I still love transforming found objects. Some direct results are the DÉODORANT (2021)editions, recycled plastic containers with Nymphenburg porcelain; BODY PART (2019), drawings on projection screens; HAIR PORTRAITS (2015-2022), collages on vintage magazine covers; SCROLLING IMAGE (2021), a series of drawings displayed on billboards; BUS STOP (2020)and PODIUM (2024), urban objects covered in artificial fur; TOPS & BOTTOMS (2023), underwear forms cut from antique plaster casts; SHORE SHOES (2024), washed up flip-flops reworked into new shoe shapes. I give my newly produced catalogues a used feeling by sticking Post-its onto certain pages. I find common objects within daily situations very inspiring. Creating something extraordinary out of the ordinary intrigues me.

As a child, I loved to isolate myself in a world of my own imagination. I remember how disturbing it felt every time I was called back to reality. This was probably when my strength of imagination forged my creativity. It may also be the root of my later desire for anonymity. But it wasn’t until the late 80s, when I was Jean Paul Gaultier’s assistant, that I discovered that becoming famous transformed a person into a public object. I rejected the idea that my privacy would suffer as a consequence of success.

As a kid, I would constantly, almost exclusively, draw portraits and people in full dress. The human body has always been my main inspiration, in all its possible forms. Even when working on empty interiors or bare staircases, I aim to show absence rather than emptiness, which creates the feeling that somebody has just left the scene. I was never, and still am not, a social person. To this day, the need to be on my own is absolutely necessary in creative moments, it’s crucial for the realisation process. When I feel confident about an artwork, I am more than willing to share it with an audience.

How do I see the future of humanism? I am not able to answer this question properly; we live in such an uncertain world today. I strongly believe in humanity. I like to think that human beings will always need human beings.

h: Your fashion shows have been staged as theatrical performances, almost as if you were creating entire worlds for your garments. Did you see your clients as actors in your plays back then?

MM: The women and men who presented new fashion collections twice a year were the performers, not the clients. Before 2002, when I was still independent, the castings included not only professional models but also people of different ages and physiques. The only thing they had in common was a certain mentality. They performed in unique settings, in unusual locations, accompanied by surprising music or sounds.

The clients, on the other hand, were attracted to the looks shown in those happenings. Their desire to be part of that world by adopting those looks turned them into faithful fans. I am proud that through my designs I could reach such a huge group of people and bring them happiness to share, long before social media.

Today, presentation is almost as important as the works themselves. I use the exhibition as a medium. For my first show in 2021 at Lafayette Anticipations in Paris, I wanted to create a sense of unveiling works that had never been shown before. The idea was to introduce a human presence to bring emotion to a static presentation. I asked performers to literally reveal works in front of the audience. The success of this approach led us to recreate the same atmosphere in the subsequent exhibitions in Beijing in 2022 and in Seoul in 2023.

h: In the realm of contemporary art, the dictatorship of the majority is impossible. Your dialogue with the viewer is built on complex, multilayered narratives. How important is feedback to you in this conversation?

MM: After quitting the fashion world in 2008, I needed ten years to prepare myself as a visual artist. These two worlds are not quite opposite, but they are very different.

I was fortunate to receive my first feedback from Chris Dercon, and I am deeply grateful to him for this. In 1997, Chris had invited me to present my fashion for the first time in an art institution, the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam, even though I do not agree that fashion is art—for me, it is a craft. In 2008, I quit the fashion world to prepare myself as a visual artist. It took ten years of practicing before I felt ready. Chris was also the first person to see everything I produced during this period. When going through the works, I asked him to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ when it was ‘no,’ I would ask him to explain why. By doing so, he made me aware of the differences between the creation of fashion and of art.

Having experienced that it is impossible to attract the majority, I am aware that this creates interesting feedback—it all depends on whom it comes from. I always ask my partner for his input first. Positive feedback is often striking and feels heavenly because it confirms that your message reached the viewer correctly. Negative feedback hurts, but it helps me to understand that my message did not come across in the right way. This inevitably pushes me to reflect on how to improve.

h: You rely on the craftsmanship of other people to bring your creative expressions to life. From your perspective, how are craft and art connected, and is there a clear boundary between them?

MM: I consider myself a multidisciplinary artist; different ideas make me select the technique best suited to achieve the optimal result. When I draw or paint, I am the craftsman myself. I think there are different sorts of craftspeople, there are those who have creative ideas to explore and who act as individual artists. In the case of a sculpture, I can create by hand, but if it needs a mould or more, I turn to external craftspeople. They use their professional skills to help artists realise their creative ideas. I take great pleasure in these collaborations and always feel a positive, mutually satisfying connection in the final result.