hube: Let’s go back to the very start and the story of the Antwerp Six, which is truly legendary. How did the Antwerp Six happen?

Walter Van Beirendonck: That is a long story. But what is important to understand is that it all happened very spontaneously. We never planned to be the Antwerp Six. At first, we were just a group as friends, and we were all hard-working and ambitious. At school, we worked a lot together, we travelled together, we became fascinated by a lot of things together, and went to parties and concerts together. And then, as we started to work in fashion—on our own collections or for other commercial projects—we felt like we had to get out of Belgium. In Belgium, we felt a bit stuck. We were getting a lot of press coverage, but from the Belgian media, and we had never had the opportunity to be seen internationally. It was very frustrating. So, partly out of frustration, partly out of ambition, we decided to get out of Belgium and go somewhere where the fashion press can discover us. We decided to head to London, because at the time London was a very dynamic place. You had people like BodyMap working there. Our friend Geert Bruloot, who later opened his shop in Antwerp, was going to London for a fair. And he had an idea that we should come along and bring our collections to present them there as a group. So, we rented a tiny 4m² van, put all of our collections in there and drove to London. And that’s how we started to present our work as a group and that was the beginning of the Six.

h: This was in the 1980s, which was a turbulent decade, both politically and for design. Did you feel like the time called for change? 

WVB: Again, I have to say that much of what we did was completely accidental. We didn’t feel that we had to do anything. We just wanted to become known internationally at the time when very few people from the fashion department had international success. The school was unknown and Antwerp was not a famous fashion city. We were just trying to get out. But we were extremely inspired and motivated by what was happening in fashion around that time. While still at school, we were aware of what designers like Mugler, Montana, Gaultier were doing. Around the same time, Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto started coming to Paris. And in Italy, Armani and Versace were having a moment. These were all very individual, very distinct, very strong voices in fashion. It felt like an explosion of creativity. It was very motivating for us to see that you could make an individual statement and create something new, something that had never existed before. It shifted from Pret-a-Porter to this brilliant designer boom. It was very stimulating to see that happen, and we were enjoying it a lot—we went to fashion shows and hustled for invitations. We were such dedicated fashion victims!

h: But going back to this aspect of politics which, to me, is quite interesting and which, I feel, is very present in your work. In the 1990s, during the terrifying AIDS pandemic, your collections remained defiantly sexy and unapologetically queer. Specifically, I am referring to the collections Paradise Pleasure and Astral Travel. And I was wondering, if you could talk a bit about that time and about those collections?

WVB: Absolutely, political statements are, and have always been very important to me. I think when you have a platform as an artist, an actor, or a singer, you can change things for the better. More than that, I think you have to do that—when you have that platform, it is your responsibility to use it for good. I realised early on that fashion was an excellent communication tool, and how you could communicate  efficiently with fashion. When I was a teenager, David Bowie was the artist, from whom I learnt how you could use your image, your clothes, your makeup to make statements. That’s how I discovered the power of fashion. In the ’90s, the effects of the AIDS epidemic were overwhelming, they were shattering. I still remember the first images of AIDS patients and how the media called AIDS a sickness of homosexuals. It was a horrible time. Around me, a lot of people were getting sick, people were dying. I felt it was important to speak up. And I turned to the medium I knew, and I used my storytelling to raise awareness about AIDS and the necessity to use condoms. My mascot, Puk-Puk, which I created around that time, was wearing a condom, and we did small features with Puk-Puk putting on his condom for the sake of a safe future. The Paradise Pleasure collection, a rubber collection, was about safe sex, and fetish, and the top models, who were famous at the time, had their faces covered. But at the same time, it told the story about the beauty of this world, and we were showing projections of nature during the show.

h: You’ve mentioned David Bowie was a huge inspiration. Bowie is famous for his androgynous image and, similarly, you’re often called a pioneer of the  ‘new masculinity’. What do you think about this designation and who is the man that you show in your collections and design for?

WVB: The most important thing for me about the men that I show is diversity. That’s what I have been focusing on since the beginning of my career. From the start, I have worked with completely different types of models. In my early Baby Boy collection, I worked with big guys who were not typical models. I’ve been using street casting, and I’ve been casting very different-looking models. So, for me, there’s no perfect masculinity. I don’t have a set idea for a certain kind of man, or a certain kind of masculinity, but I am flexible in the way I think about men and humans. Over the years, I’ve been interested in gender fluidity, too. In the ’90s, I experimented with hairdos on boys, but for me, it was more of a fashion statement than a comment on gender. 

h: Well, new masculinity is a bit of a vague concept, isn’t it? After all, what is ’old masculinity’? 

WVB: You know, last season I felt like I had to protect [traditional] masculinity. Because at this point in fashion, gender fluidity is becoming a trend; I feel like a lot of designers approach it as a trend. But I’ve always hated it when women’s clothes are used to dress up a man for a fashion shoot or for a show solely for the shock value of it. To me, it feels like a travesty and it has nothing to do with fashion. It only works as a fashion statement, when there is balance and a real feeling to it.

h: Well, many things in fashion are meant to be shocking and are meant for social media. 

WVB: Yes. But is that a reason enough to make them? Isn’t it cheap?

h: Probably. But it’s also so fascinating that it actually works. I find it interesting. 

WVB: Yes, that’s definitely an interesting topic—what has value in fashion and why?

h: But since we’ve started talking about experiments and innovation, can we also talk about your experiments with digitisation? During the pandemic, you presented the Neon Shadow collection, which you showed digitally, and the grad shows at the fashion department were shown online and were very experimental. What is your attitude to digital fashion and, in particular, the metaverse? 

WVB: I am a big believer in digital fashion. In the ’90s, during the stock market crash, the novel Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson came out. It was one of the first stories that I read about the metaverse that discussed digitisation and avatars, and it introduced me to this topic. It even served as an inspiration for my Avatar collection from that time. From then on, I’ve been extremely fascinated by what could happen in the future. Then, for 10 years, all this interest in the metaverse disappeared, and now it is suddenly coming back. In a way, it feels like old news that is being rehashed, but I do think that, eventually, virtual reality will be one of the next stages in our evolution. You can see how the world is evolving, how many things you couldn’t imagine before are becoming reality—like 3D printing or digital spraying. And, I’m sure that in the future, we are probably going to lose part of our physical identity, while our digital identity will matter a lot. At the same time, now the metaverse still feels underwhelming, it feels more like a game than a real world. It is interesting to work with, but do miss the reasons to go there. I would love to go to the metaverse to see an incredible exhibition or a beautiful artwork, but it is still missing that kind of cultural immediacy.

h: You might like Lu Yang, a Chinese artist who creates digital avatars, blending Buddhist philosophy and K-pop aesthetics. Their exhibition DOKU Experience Centre is currently on view in Berlin.

WVB: So, they’ve made a physical exhibition? 

h: Yes. 

WVB: You see, there’s still a need for that translation from the digital into physical. And when I see too many digital artworks, I start longing for traditional art forms because they still feel more interesting and original than digital art. So, for now, we need a balance of the digital and traditional.

h: You’ve said that, with the metaverse, we might lose our physical identities. But, do you think it also gives us a promise of eternal life?

WVB: Yes, possibly. I am not sure if you can have eternal life as a physical being, but I can imagine that your soul or your spirit can go on forever in digital life. 

h: But that, again, raises so many questions about feelings and about who we are. 

WVB: I see those future digital beings as heads with a lot of electrodes attached to them to sustain life and function.

h: With your students at the academy, have you noticed that they think, feel, behave differently because of digitisation and social media? Currently, we consume so much information, so many images, and we don’t always have the time or mental capacity to analyse them.

WVB: I have always told my students that credits and knowing your sources matter above all. It’s really important that you know what you’re looking at and what you’re working with; that you have, and show, respect for it. Digitisation and social media aren’t helpful, because they unleash this tsunami of images and information that never ends. That’s why I still greatly enjoy books, exploring them at my own pace, going page by page. I always recommend that my students go to a library, where the environment actually helps you dedicate time to your research. Thus you start to see the context, you pay attention to words and images, and you can use them to build stories. But if you go on Google, you just get overwhelmed by the deluge of data. And if you are on your phone, you can hardly appreciate details of images. There’s no quality in it. 

h: Phones have become extensions of ourselves…

WVB: That’s what they are. But that’s why real books are important.

h: But don’t you think there’s also something empowering about always having access to information? 

WVB: Empowering? No, It’s just easy! I’m not sure it is empowering. Do I feel better after using it? No. Do I feel like I know more than before? Also, no. I am more aware of the news, and I feel bombarded with information. The news about Raf Simons closing his brand just hit me on social media yesterday. Before, it would have been different—I would have heard about it from someone, or I would have read about it in a newspaper. But nowadays, it just pummels you in the face. The news, the information, the images—it is intrusive, and it never stops. And it also changes the culture; nowadays, you are expected to be available at all times. When people send emails, they expect you to react immediately. In this sense, there is a huge difference between, say, the 1970s and the 2020s. But I don’t feel empowered by the current media culture. I think that power comes from within yourself. And social media is just one of the tools we use. And back in the ’70s, we had different tools but they might have even been better.

h: I find it very interesting what you said about the library as a place for learning and thinking. In one of your previous interviews, you said that as a teenager, it was already very important for you to have a personal space for thinking and creating. Do you think every creative needs a room of their own?

WVB: Yes, I still need that space. And now, as well, I have my own space here, in my studio and at home. At home, it is a tiny space with a certain atmosphere. It’s where I design, sketch, and research. And I find it extremely important to have that space. That’s where I can work best. Like the library, that’s where I get in touch with myself. I had that as a teenager too. When I was 12, I created my own room, it was a small room, a separate space, where I could be creative. There, I listened to the music—David Bowie, Lou Reed, and glam rock. There, I read art books, I painted and sketched—I was fascinated by art. And of course, I decorated it with posters, objects, and some lights. 

h: Sounds like every teenager’s dream.

WVB: But I needed that. It was also a way to escape. Back then, I was a rather lonely teenager. I didn’t want to play football and talk about bicycles and I wasn’t interested in sports at all. So, there was a big communication gap between myself and boys my age. I was interested in very weird things they had never heard about—singers, glam rock, platform shoes… And that’s why I needed that room to create my own world. Writing my diary was part of that world. At that time, I was at the boarding school, and I was constantly surrounded by other boys. But I felt so different from them. That’s when I was starting to feel my homosexuality, and it estranged me even more from the others. 

h: Sometimes you have to draw back to have some freedom.

WVB: Yes, and it also empowered me. Because that room and that world, that fantasy I was living, in fuelled my imagination and creativity. It was the beginning of me becoming a designer. So, empowerment can come from solitude and isolation. It can help you find your goal, ambition and interest. 

h: This brings me to the matter of your collection titles, which are reliably imaginative. 

WVB: That’s part of my storytelling. 

h: How do you normally come up with a title for a collection?

WVB: Again, spontaneity is key. A lot of things happen very spontaneously. Here is my Neon Shadow book. I’ve brought it to show you how I work with images and texts. Words and slogans are extremely important throughout the whole process—I use them along with the images. For the Neon Shadow, I spent a few weeks working on collages because by collecting images I collect inspiration. I tear words out of magazines for my book, and I mix them all together, like with this ‘P-cock’ collage. I collect these images and collages before I start sketching. And, while doing so, I think a lot about the collection: what it will look like, what the makeup will be like, what the hairstyles will be, how I will style it… So, I’m creating the collection without sketching. And you see that I’m really throwing a lot of words together, they turn into the collection slogans, and they create sort of an atmosphere for the collection—and that’s where the collection title eventually comes from. 

h: It’s really fascinating how the images are very, very different and you can still see that they have something to do with each other.

WVB: Because it all comes from me. During this phase, I don’t work with anyone else, it’s kind of a one-man show. I start with things I’m interested in, and I assemble them in a very impromptu way. Then these images get translated into concepts for the collection. And only later, I start working with other people to create prints. Paul McCarty, my big hero, taught me how you can approach a loaded topic in a fun way, bringing colour and brightness into it. I approach every collection differently, but storytelling always remains important for me. I start with an idea I’m interested in. In the case of the Neon Shadow, it was my interest in how pop bands use their image. So, I actually created a band, casting different people, they made a song and we filmed them touring and performing. We combined it with some pre-pandemic shoots, so it looks like real concerts. I also tried to surprise my audience, who always expect new ideas from me. And I challenge myself to keep surprising them.

h: Do you ever revisit your older collections, think back about them?

WVB: I do it all the time. When you work on a collection, you can only cross your fingers, hoping that everything will happen the way it should. Then it’s done, and you move on to the next one. So you don’t have much time to ruminate—you have to move on to the next one. 

h: It’s a race.

WVB: It is a race but I do like that race. Sometimes the practical side of it is difficult. But having a new idea to work on every six months feels very natural to me. It feels logical, like having spring after winter. I enjoy it because it gives me the possibility to react quickly to what is happening in the world. In fact, with fashion you can respond to what’s going on quicker than with art. Shortly after the terrorist attacks in Paris, I was able to show a collection that said: stop terrorising our world. As a designer, I feel very close to reality, I feel at the forefront of communication.

h: Is it important for you how the media reacts to what you do?

WVB: Of course. The media is important—they can lift you up or they can break you down. For a long time, I was a fashion outsider because journalists didn’t get what I was doing and didn’t take me seriously. Even in the ’90s, as we were making strong fashion statements, producing big collections, staging good shows, and selling a lot, for many journalists I was just a kid making colourful T-shirts. But I kept on going and I kept on believing in what I was doing, and, at a certain point, the media started to understand that I was not a crazy one, but, rather, I was creating something new. And then, journalists’ attitude completely changed. Now, a lot of the media is interested in what I do, and they elevate me to the level I wasn’t at before. But I’m happy that for years, I remained an outsider—it allowed me to work completely independently, it gave me a lot of freedom—every season, I’ve been doing what I want. And I have loyal followers, I have loyal clients, and I sell all over the world. I enjoy working directly with my clients, we have a strong connection, so you can really say that we’ve created something niche. This allows me to maintain balance. And that’s what I like about my outsider position.

h: I couldn’t help noticing that you are a huge fan of art.  You have cited Mike Kelley and David Lynch in your works, and Marlene Dumas is all over your Instagram. Are there any artists that you currently are obsessing about or thinking about? 

WVB: I’m extremely interested in art, and one thing that I appreciate Instagram for is how it allows you to discover new artists out there. I’m on it all the time—saving and saving and saving posts. At first, I like to be overwhelmed; then I approach it more selectively, and then I do research and read about the art I like. One of the artists I have recently discovered on Instagram is the Swiss artist Miriam Cahn. She paints these weird diffused alien-like faces. I am totally fascinated by her vision, I’ve tried to find a book on her, I’ve seen a few exhibitions she was in. I find her art very inspiring—it spurs my own imagination. Every few months, I discover somebody new. Sometimes I try to get in touch with them and suggest that we do a small project together—mostly, I work with artists on my invitations. Or with the tattoo artist Mateusz Sarzynski, we did some awesome drawings for a collection.

h: Also, the artists you are attracted to—Dumas or Kelley or Willem van Genk… 

WVB: Yes, the outsider, naive artist I love.

h: In their work, they combine the scary and the funny. Would you say that’s something you do as well?

WVB: Yes, that’s true. I’m definitely not one of the serious high-art artists. I love colours. I love fun, the excitement, with just a touch of seriousness,  and that’s what attracts me to these artists.

h: This may be an unusual question, but what is your relationship with fear?

WVB: Fear… I have a lot of fear. I think we live in a scary world. On the one hand, it is scary what is happening in the world. On the other hand, I am scared of getting old. It is scary to see your world getting smaller, not being active anymore. And, of course, I care a lot about other people, and I fear that something might happen to them. These thoughts are very present in my imagination. But in my work, fear also helps me a lot. It helps me go into overdrive. Sometimes, the thought that I might fall down the stairs sends me into an incredibly productive mode. Sometimes, I push myself to get afraid. I am not one of those people who need to calm down and relax to work. I do worry. 

h: It seems sometimes that this culture of shopping for collabs is almost replacing subcultures. 

WVB: Exactly. In the Neon Shadow collection, I tried searching for a subculture. I love subcultures and I wanted to create one that would be my own. In the ’70s and ’80s a new subculture appeared every year. Every year, an old look was out and a new look was in. Everything was changing constantly, but we’ve lost that completely. You might say it is now replaced by social media, but it’s not the same. It used to originate in the street, and then it would evolve. It’s not like that anymore. Now, fashion starts with a designer statement that’s ready to consume. So, with the Neon Shadow, I wanted to try and recreate that energy of a subculture. I remember seeing the early punks, glam rockers, new romantics—and how much energy was there, how refreshing it was. I miss it a bit. And, on a different note, nowadays I am also a bit appalled by how fashion deals with women’s bodies, exposing flesh. To me, it comes across as untimely and vulgar. 

h: But then it depends on what the designer’s idea is. The way Michaela Stark does it—distorting the body, alienating it…

WVB: Well, but that’s an artistic approach, it is different. I assure you, I don’t have any issue with nudity, but it’s the vulgar, objectifying way of exposing it that doesn’t fit in our society anymore. 

h: Do you think that Walter Van Beirendonck fans can be a subculture? I’ve noticed that you repost a lot of pictures of your customers—and they are a vibrant crowd. 

WVB: What I love about Instagram is that you have direct contact with your fans. It is very refreshing, because before social media, you had no idea who wore your clothes and how they wore them. But now we can have this connection. My followers are proud to wear WvB, and they are happy when I share their looks. In the meanwhile, many have also started following each other, and it’s turning into a kind of network, which is very interesting for me. I think social media is becoming more dynamic, interesting, and important than traditional press.

h: And they interpret your collections very creatively.

WVB: Yes, one of my dedicated followers, Magnus, collects my pieces, and he mixes them in such a creative way, combining early ’90s pieces with the new ones. The way he styles the looks is very balanced. I’m extremely sensitive to beauty, and for me beauty is in the balance. It can be such a thin line between what’s beautiful and what is not.

h: Moving on to another community that you were a part of until recently—the fashion department at the Royal Academy. This is the first year you’re not there. How does it feel?

WVB: I miss it. I started teaching there in 1985. I already had my own line then, and I had no ambition to become a teacher. When my former teacher asked me if I’d be interested in a teaching position, I was not too excited—I had just graduated and I didn’t feel like going back to school. But I agreed,  partly because I needed the money. I said I’d try. And then, from the very beginning, I really enjoyed it. I found it rather easy because, again, I could work with my imagination. I could guide the students, give them creative suggestions. And, from then on, I never stopped teaching. In 1985, I started going to the academy two days a week. At first I taught the first year, BA, then the second, then the third—which, eventually, I decided to keep teaching. I never went on to teach the masters. I enjoyed teaching a lot, the whole week I’d be working on my projects, but then I would spend those two days at the school and concentrate on something completely different, which would also be very fulfilling creatively. Of course, I miss it now. It was not my decision to leave, it was the government’s requirement—once you are 65, you are out. But I’m still in touch with the department. Today, for instance, I’m having lunch with my former colleagues. And, of course, my partner Dirk is still [teaching] there. So, I am aware of what’s going on there, but still it’s different. I definitely hope to go back to teaching some time in the future.

h: Teaching is very rewarding, isn’t it?

WVB: It is definitely rewarding to see people grow, learn new things and take new steps. Usually, I would start following the work of my students from the first year onwards, see what they do with other teachers. Then, once they would come into my class, I would already know who they were. I would normally ask them to make a diary of their summer vacation, and we would start by discussing what they had seen throughout the summer, what had left an impression on them.