A student makes hundreds of pages of photocopies and takes them home, and the manual labor he exercises in doing so gives him the impression that he possesses the work. Owning the photocopies exempts the student from actually reading them. This sort of vertigo of accumulation, a neocapitalism of information, happens to many. Defend yourself from this trap: as soon as you have the photocopy, read it and annotate it immediately. If you are not in a great hurry, do not photocopy something new before you own (that is, before you have read and annotated) the previous set of photocopies. There are many things I do not know because I photocopied a text and then relaxed as if I had read it.
“Off-White’s designs—brash and loud and graphic, branded with black-and-white diagonal stripes you can recognize from 30 yards away—are everywhere,” Zach Baron wrote for GQ.
“Even if the general population doesn't recognize those diagonal stripes as Abloh’s, if his followers do, then he’s succeeded. Imagine hundreds of thousands of Off-White fans seeing diagonal lines all the time and automatically thinking of Abloh’s label. That’s extremely powerful because it can make the brand seem larger than it actually is.”
In this way, Abloh has put the street to work for him – sometimes very literally – in creating brand awareness in lieu of having to spend on traditional forms of advertising, such as pricey campaigns or particularly over-the-top runway shows.
032c asserts that Abloh’s “new order” – i.e., his way of working, which sees him “absorb pre-existing intellectual property into his reference system” – is “protected by a fortress of irony.” The magazine pointed to Abloh’s frequent use of quotation marks on everything from puffer jackets to shoe laces as an example of “one of the many tools that Abloh uses to operate in a mode of ironic detachment.”
“rejects the who-did-it-first mentality of previous generations in favor of the copy-paste logic of the Internet and its inhabitants,”
Marcel Duchamp is “my lawyer,” a reference to the late artist’s practice of taking already-existing elements and elevating them as art.
“At the time I thought you were only good if you’re Margiela or Rei Kawakubo. And I was struggling because that’s not me. I was very well aware that as a fashion designer, I was a square peg in a round hole. It’s like someone who is really messy and tries to clean their place up to throw a dinner party. Everything is in order, but then you go to the bathroom and you’re like, Why is there a cereal box in the bathtub?” Abloh could not try to be something he was not. “That became when I owned the thing,” he says. “With that, I could sleep at night. I just needed to check. I already had my plan anyway. But sometimes you need to rearrange the furniture in your head.”
After nearly two hours, our conversation was winding down and we got to talking about self-belief. “That’s what a large part of the constantly working and never sleeping was about,” Abloh said, “to disprove that little voice in my head that was like, ‘It’s impossible.’ Because that was almost destructive to me.”
“As a workaholic, that’s the central conundrum. I’m sort of absorbing these milestones in my career, but I’m also welcoming the idea that, yeah, maybe I don’t travel so much; maybe I don’t take on as many projects; maybe I spend more time at home with my kids. Now that I see what my trajectory is, who knows? I might be open to being boring.”