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Opinion – Kanye needs to stop using ‘art’ as an excuse for hate

Kanye West’s new ‘Wh*te Lives Matter’ T-shirts are more than a cry for attention. They’re dangerous.

This year, Paris Fashion Week burst at the seams with viral conversation starters.

Despite a disappointing lack of sustainable sentiment, it would be hard to deny the future-facing stance of Paris’ shows – with a large number of brands using the runway to explore fashion’s future in an increasingly digitised and divided world.

From Coperni’s spray on dress to Loewe’s innovative silhouettes, Paris Fashion week has reminded us of the industry’s inherent – though often forgotten – purpose as a crucible of art, culture, and possibility.

It’s sad, then, that the creative efforts of pioneering designers and craftspeople has been overshadowed by the indefensible controversies of Kanye West.

‘Ye’ – as he’s now humbly dubbed himself – attended a number of shows across the fashion week run, before debuting an intimate collection himself on Monday.

The show was a presentation of Ye’s new Yeezy collection.

In keeping with his own cropped name, the brand has shed its vowels. ‘YZYSZN9’ (that would be ‘Yeezy Season 9’ in layman’s terms) looked like a fledgling Balenciaga for the most part.

Fit with emaciated models and underwhelming cotton basics, comically over-accessorised with enlarged shoes, jackets, and leg warmers, the collection felt like a Gothicised ode to childhood dress-up; wearing a duvet as a dress and pretending to be a runway model.

But the relatively underwhelming presentation has still managed to dominate Fashion Month’s close.

The culprit was West’s ‘Wh*te Lives Matter’ t-shirts. Yes, you read that correctly.

Peppered in amongst the hulking ponchos and glorified welly-boots, West sent a model – Selah Marley, daughter of Lauren Hill – down the runway in a long sleeve t-shirt emblazoned with the statement ‘Wh*te Lives Matter’.

The move sparked instant criticism from industry insiders and mainstream media representatives. Jaden Smith walked out of the show soon after the shirt appeared. And British Vogue Editor in Chief Edward Enninful called the it ‘insensitive, given the state of the world.’

But West has since singled out and attacked Vogue editor Gabriella Karefa-Johnson after she accused him of ‘indefensible behaviour’.

In posts that have since been deleted, West targeted Karefa-Johnson’s appearance, followed by a screenshot of the words ‘WHEN I SAID WAR I MEANT WAR’.

West’s child-like outbursts have become somewhat of a social media mainstay in the past few years. And while the internet remains at a loss on how to deal with it, Ye’s public meltdown over divorce with ex-wife Kim Kardashian has certainly made for compelling entertainment.

But the attack on Karefa-Johnson is set apart in that West has very brazenly targeted a specific individual. It is bullying.

The fashion industry has been quick to defend Karefa-Johnson, with Gigi Hadid calling out West on Instagram with the comment ‘You wish you had a percentage of her intellect’, and labelled Ye ‘a bully and a joke’.

Vogue has since released a statement saying it ‘stands’ with Karefa-Johnson, and shared that the editor had spoken privately with Ye ‘on her own terms’. But West’s claim that Anna Wintour – Vogue’s editor in chief – asked Baz Luhrman to film the exchange is as bizarre as it is unsettling.

If the whole debacle has taught us anything it’s that we can’t relinquish our fascination with a spectacle.

While West has received a slew of criticism since the Yeezy show, both from prominent figures within the industry and leaders at Adidas – with whom he has partnered on the Yeezy brand since its inception – it’s hard to tell if the ramifications of West’s actions will be sufficient in the long-term.

The endless carousel of chaotic all-caps posts Ye has used to draw out the controversy are a car crash you can’t turn away from.

Screenshots of texts with P Diddy, in which West has launched increasingly volatile and confusing attacks, feel like warped reality TV fodder.

But these displays of narcissism shouldn’t distract from Ye’s dangerous behaviour at the Yeezy show, nor his subsequent onslaught at Karefa-Johnson.

The guise of ‘artistic freedom’ that Ye has long used to defend his conduct needs to end somewhere.

As Karefa-Johnson said of the ‘Wh*te Lives Matter’ T-shirts, West may have thought of them as some kind of ‘Duchampian provocation’, a nod to his consistent use of artistic pretentiousness as a cop-out, but ‘It didn’t land, and it was deeply offensive, violent, and dangerous’.

The debate surrounding artistic ‘freedoms’, and the right to offend in the name of ‘art’ remain an industry bugbear. Countless research, law suits, and artworks themselves have been based on this age-old question; should ‘art’ ever be censored?

In the case of Kanye West, it should. And not just because the ‘art’ in question is ineffectual at best.

The t-shirts were one thing, but by choosing to spin their controversy into personal attacks on a Black woman, and drawing the Black community into his callow rants, West has gone too far.

‘Art’ should be thought provoking, even uncomfortable. But it should never be dangerous nor hateful. As if there aren’t enough things dividing our world as it is.

We need to hold West accountable for what – beneath all the sartorial capriciousness and cryptic spiel – he really is: a bully, whose theoretical soapbox needs to be withdrawn, and whose position of power within the arts has proven itself sorely obsolete.

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