Morgane Tschiember x MBBFW

Morgane Tschiember: I grew up in the fashion world, but no one really knows much about this part of my life. For me, fashion is like a madeleine de Proust—that childhood memory that surfaces when you’re doing something special. Fashion is in my DNA, but I never wanted to work in fashion. I think it’s because I saw both sides of the coin, you know? I always wanted to be an artist. But what I like most is the materials I use, many of which come from the fashion industry.Also, I was blind during my childhood, so my first experiences were through touch, connecting with different materials. I didn’t begin to see until I was nine, and that’s when I developed a deep sensitivity to textures. I’m very aware of the way materials feel, but at the same time, I don’t have a clear visual memory of how they should look. As a result, I can only know materials through the feelings they evoke—whether good or bad.This experience stays with me when I’m searching for connections between materials and trying to combine them in new ways. And when people from the fashion world call me, I think they sense something in my work that I don’t even fully see myself—a kind of emotional resonance that’s familiar to designers. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s a confirmation I feel when I receive the invitation.I’ve designed shoes for Marie Laffont, created the Lady Dior bag, and worked with Dior on the Miss Dior perfume campaign. Recently, I collaborated with Yves Saint Laurent on eight shop windows at Rinascente in Milan. Every time, I feel a sense of fulfillment because it’s like that madeleine de Proust moment—connecting with something from my past. I do this work almost instinctively, and I’ve always known I could do more in fashion. But I’m happy to be on this level because I consider fashion an art form, and what excites me about fashion is the relationship between things.It’s similar to how you instinctively know when something works. Like when you wake up and try on a T-shirt, but it doesn’t quite match with your jeans. You change it, try another color, and suddenly it feels right. For me, that’s already an art form—like a painting in motion. When I combine colors and materials, I’m already creating something. It’s a ready-made. As Marcel Duchamp said, art is just a choice. You choose the colors, the materials, and you compose something. The most interesting art, fashion, and design emerge through the movement of life.

MT: Yes, I’ve developed my own techniques in working with wood, glass, and leather-like text panels—though it’s not leather, it’s a material I create by mixing different elements. For example, I apply wax to a foam sheet, often used in both fashion and design, and the foam absorbs the wax. I then use my own tools, like heated iron letters, to press onto the waxed foam and create imprints. This process is part of a series called Skin Poem, which explores themes of skin, body, and poetry.

MT: What I like about this is that the rope truly plays a role. It holds together two bars that are trying to separate, yet the rope keeps them together. There’s nothing else—just that. In my work, there’s nothing to hide, never. I never conceal anything. My gestures are always visible in my work. In Western philosophy, we’ve grown up with the idea that everything should be hidden. But in my work, I aim to make everything visible. In our culture, though, we tend to cover things up. I don’t know where that comes from, but it’s a fact. 

MT: I’ve worked with Dior several times. The most recent project was for the Miss Dior perfume, but before that, I worked on the Lady Dior bag. I was the first artist to actually modify the shape of the Lady Dior bag—before me, artists just decorated it. But I thought, “No, I want to change it.” So, I used rope, which is something I often incorporate in my work, to alter the shape. It wasn’t just about adding decoration or new materials—it was about creating movement, about using the gesture of tying to reshape the bag. It felt like a way to push the boundaries, and I really enjoyed that.

MT: No, I did everything myself. I presented three proposals.  We can’t talk about that, but they ultimately want to do all the three proposals that I proposed in the near future. What I loved about the process of making the bag was the contrast between materials. In my work, there’s always a dialogue between two materials, and with Dior, it was exciting to introduce the rope in a way that also modified the shape of the bag. It felt like a new adventure—something fresh.

MT: The rope appeared to me while I was working on a project in Japan. My gallery invited me to stay there for six months to create my work, since transporting it can be so expensive. While I was there, I spent time in a Zen garden, and I noticed how the locals used rope to tie trees and structures. It came from the samurai tradition, where they passed down knot-tying techniques to the gardeners. I learned this technique but it took me, I think, two years to know how I would use it. After some time of research I discovered that the rope and the ceramic appear at the same time in our civilization. That got me thinking. Then, a woman invited me to a residency to learn ceramics, which I didn’t know at the time. I told her, “Okay, I’ll work with rope.” I started wrapping it around shapes, tying it, and modifying the forms. That was my first real use of rope in my work and it felt like discovering a new way to break free from conventions. The rope itself becomes like a mold, altering the shape of the bag. It’s a constant interplay between materials, reshaping them.I first started using rope with ceramics, and over time, it became an essential element in my work. But I always feel like it comes from my childhood, when I grew up by the sea. I spent a lot of time on boats, handling ropes without even seeing them—my dad would tie them to poles, and I’d feel the wind in the ropes, sensing their movement. I think that connection to rope, to the tactile experience, is something that’s always stayed with me.It’s like I’m always trying to reconnect with that childlike sense of wonder. If you can tap into that, it means you’ve reached something important. To me, there’s nothing more interesting than rediscovering the freedom and intuition we have as children, that ability to embrace the unknown.

MT: Exactly, it’s important to always have doubt, to approach things like it’s the first time. In a way, our weaknesses often make us stronger. When I was in school, if I expressed interest in something unusual, the teachers would try to explain why it was wrong. Most people tend to dismiss what’s different from them, but I’ve always embraced it. I’m actually drawn to what others might call strange. People often overlook or dismiss what’s unconventional, but for me, it’s fascinating and beautiful. I’ve never felt bad about it.

MT: YSL wanted something different for their new collection, which was in white and black, so they asked me to create eight pieces in those tones. For me, YSL is incredibly prestigious, especially for women, because he revolutionized fashion by introducing the tuxedo for women. It was a significant moment in women’s emancipation, so I wanted to pay homage to that. I focused on this idea and created a series of eight window installations, including one piece with folding sheets, another with rope and ceramics, and glass. I had complete freedom, with the only limitation being the white and black thematic scheme, which I really enjoyed.

MT: They’re made of aluminum, which I paint using an airbrush. I am a painter with a gun. I use the same technique that’s typically used to paint cars. What’s interesting, but not immediately visible here, is that along the edge, you can see the aluminum like a line—almost like a drawing. That little gray line at the edge highlights the material itself.When it was time to install the pieces, I learned that even though Saint Laurent had founded the brand, he never wanted mannequins in the windows. Even if he were still alive, he wouldn’t have used them. He believed in presenting the clothes without the conventional mannequin, letting the pieces stand on their own. So, they thought it might be more radical to invite artists to showcase their work in the windows, instead of displaying full collections. For example, I showcased a small object—like a pair of shoes or a tiny bag—alongside my artwork. Sometimes there, in the window, it was just my artwork, no clothing at all.It felt like a new movement, pushing the concept even further. At first, I think they might have worried about the financial aspect of destroying merchandise every few months just to present a pair of shoes. So, perhaps they began to see it as more worthwhile to create and keep art pieces, linking fashion and art together. It was a beautiful idea because it changed how the public perceived the brand. Walking by, people would see something different, something special, unlike the usual window displays. It was a new gesture. I think it was the beginning of something new.This happened about two and a half years ago. It felt like a new step for me. In the past, I’d been invited to create windows or help brands by offering new ideas, but that was more about managing concepts. This was different. This time, it was about presenting my actual artwork—just my work, with minimal product placement: a pair of shoes, a bag, and the artwork. It was really minimal, but it felt significant.

MT: Yes, exactly. It’s funny because I think most companies today are so rigid—they need everything to run like a well-oiled machine, with a very narrow focus. They often forget about freedom, about the openness that allows for growth. And then, they realize they need to reconnect with that sense of freedom, and that’s when they turn to artists. I think it’s beautiful that companies are recognizing this now. It’s not just in fashion, either; it’s across industries—like in astronomy or even the food world. The way we think is so different, and through dialogue, we can find new ways of thinking and research they might never have considered. Artists are just trying to push boundaries, to explore what hasn’t been done yet.Right now, it feels like we’re in a moment where artists have more room to be visible. We’re no longer confined to the background. For so long, we tried to hide what we were doing, to stay on the edge, but today, there’s more acceptance. Our way of thinking, which often comes from worlds outside the norm, is now something that can be shared. It’s exciting to collaborate and create new ideas together because, for me, no one works in isolation. I always think that when we put on a show, it’s not just the artist—it’s a whole team. There’s the creator, the museum, the technicians, everyone involved. When people understand that nothing is done alone, that’s when you know you’re on the right path.

MT: Yes, I think it’s essential, especially because we can’t keep hiding this whole teamwork under a single name anymore.

MT: Exactly. I prefer to look at all the changes that surround us in a positive light because, in this society, the only real resistance is trying to be happy. To resist with joy—if you don’t have joy, you’re not truly resisting. And in such a complicated world, you need to resist. So, you need to find happiness and spread it. It’s easier to create something dark, to use misery or fear. It’s easy to make people feel bad. But trying to make someone feel good, to leave a show with a sense of peace, tenderness, or even inspiration—it’s much harder. And I hope that’s the path I’m on, not the other one. I also think art and fashion could connect in this way. Some people are so proud that they don’t want to share a part of themselves, thinking fashion is less important than other art forms. I don’t understand that because, honestly, anything that can bring joy should be valued.