As I stood at the entrance to Somerset House, I saw girls – no matter their age, I can only describe them – from head to toe, from their elaborately curled hair to their Mary Jane-esque platform heels. I noticed that they were all decked out in pink, ribbons and frills.
Adorned with glitter, stickers, cute Band-Aids, and quirky jewelry, these pieces stand out in the late January weather, as they do in this exhibition. Colored lights in a sea of winter gray and black. What are they here for? This is the gallery’s new exhibition on ‘Cute’, and the first major exhibition to examine this phenomenon.
The exhibition begins with an exploration of “cuteness” as a historical way of appreciating cats. It draws connections to Japan’s Hello Kitty from Victorian cat portraits and collectible porcelain figurines. The exhibition celebrates the brand’s 50th anniversary through a glittering Kitty Disco.
The show transcends time and geopolitical boundaries to show that “kawaii” is not tied to a single time or place, but is an accessible concept that anyone can claim.
Emerging into modern contexts through early 20th century Japanese products known as “fancy goods” aimed at young women, it encompasses a wide variety of cultural products, from comics to computers, electronics to televisions, and even the screen itself has become an aesthetic. It’s colonized. Music videos from the 1980s and 1990s.
An exhibition in the UK attempts to define the phenomenon.
The Hello Kitty section of the exhibition is a world of stuffed animals and “Kitty mania” in all kinds of products, from shoes and suitcases to tablets and karaoke equipment. This encapsulates Cute’s most obvious secondary feature: intense consumerism and the ability to sell all kinds of objects.
Cute is a funny word
Proceeding upward, visitors enter a “cute universe”. Here, “kawaii” is fragmented and distorted into various forms and meanings.
Playing on the word “slippery,” which is cited many times in the catalogue, this exhibition’s effort to classify cuteness into a clear category is evident among the many objects on display. It struggles with the fluid nature of attention seeking.
The show is divided into sections: “Crybabies,” “Playing Together,” “Sugar-Coated Pills,” “Monstrous Others,” and “Supersonics,” all of which bravely attempt to define “cute.” I’m trying. But the word resists definition. Objects of all kinds tap into different qualities of “cute” to stimulate emotions, such as sympathy, kindness, love, and desire. The emotion an object evokes depends on the viewer.
“Cute Universe” takes a deeper look at the concept, including how cute can obscure agendas, the juxtaposition of cute and horror, and the bright promise of cute as a future lifestyle aesthetic, through community exhibitions can do.
As you explore, you’ll find that “cute” is impossible to pin down. For better or worse, it is a tool that is used, felt, and interpreted depending on the viewer and performer in an ambiguous codependent relationship.
play with scale
The exhibition also emphasizes a sense of scale, using both oversized and smaller installations. This makes visitors feel like children again, playing with small toys and experiencing the vast world.
The immersive experience continues with girly slumber parties, pink beanbags, and staying up late watching music videos on TV with the work of hyper-feminine singer and visual artist Hannah Diamond.
These works are nostalgic and reminiscing about a time that has already passed. In kawaii there is a performance of desire that bridges the gap between what we have and what we have lost. The performance of cuteness occurs only in the presence of loss of innocence.
Well, what do you think about this cute exhibition? As curator Claire Catterall told me, this show suggests rather than dictates its meaning. However, in the end, the bigger question remains: what does “kawaii” bring to society? What does it mean that we are so complicit in its manipulation? Who is the cute player and who decides?
In the end, we are to judge the exhibition for ourselves, but what can we do when the concept itself is so vague? I felt disoriented, as if I had eaten too many sweets. I left Somerset House with a hissing sound. Still, as I was thinking about the exhibition on the way home, I felt like having a second helping.
The author is an Associate Lecturer in Fashion Communication and Promotion at Nottingham Trent University, UK.
Republished from The Conversation
EOS, published at dawn on February 18, 2024