Archive: Influential Fashion Educators: Walter van Beirendonck

Originally published July 2015.

By Cesar Majorana. Photography Charlotte Boeyden

Einstein once remarked that there’s no inspiration in an empty room, which is probably why the fifth floor of the iconic Modenatie building smells of burnt leather. A student is adding loafer details to his Adidas Superstar sneakers. In the back of the museum-like white cube chamber students are gazing at a Stockman tailor dummy. You could say that there’s a certain creative flow going on here, but to really understand the underlying structure of this elite heaven for aspiring fashion designers there’s one man you need to speak to: fashion’s own antithesis Walter van Beirendonck. In the heart of the Belgian fashion capital we spoke about Kanye West, the current state of fashion and teaching success – “If I see a student’s work is not there yet I demand more effort, research and work. They might cry in the process, but that’s nothing horrible.”

Just like I imagined, Walter van Beirendonck carefully strokes his beard when pondering an answer. The head of Antwerp’s Royal Academy fashion course is sporting a pair of his own Crocodile shoes. I’m wearing sneakers by his former intern Raf Simons, hoping he’d understand the homage. I’d come to regret that choice later in the interview when Walter tells me “I didn’t want to hire Raf at first.”

There are mainly two types of answers you can get to any question you ask Walter. The first kind is a sort of appropriation, where he makes you regret your question and serves you an answer you could’ve easily guessed yourself. He typically adds a small anecdote to those answers “What I learned from my time with Raf? Nothing, well his mom used to make nice egg sandwiches for us”, like an uncle at an indolent Belgian birthday party rehashing past memories. The second kind, my favourite, is when he makes sharp omniscient statements. Getting to either of these answers requires a little wariness.

During our two-hour talk Walter van Beirendonck cuts me off twice to tell me I’m being gossipy. I might be. When I eventually ask the Antwerp Six icon for which reasons he might expel a student, he gazes at my notebook and says “Now I don’t like where you are going with these questions. You need to think about what you’re doing”. I reply resolutely, saying “Yes, it’s just that this whole process interests me” but it’s a misplaced retort to his ears as he confronts me “I feel like you’re being gossipy. I don’t like gossip”. In just two hours’ time I don’t think the head of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts’ Fashion department has grown very fond of me. Nonetheless, the number two-type answers made it worth a visit to Antwerp.

In the late 80s you designed a comic book (King Kong Kooks), you’ve since also curated a newspaper and curated for a museum. You’re all over the place.

I’ve always been interested in broadening my field of work.

Rick Owens does the same with his furniture line and young avant-gardists as Sruli Recht and Kofta actively step in the field of product design. Is the creative vision of a fashion designer justified to be multidisciplinary?

Every person’s creative vision is justified to be expressed. Some designers think other disciplines are redundant, but the nice thing about this world is that these possibilities exist and can be used. If my mailman wants to record an album he should.

But does it really work the other way around? Producer and rapper Kanye West had a fatal dance with the fashion world and didn’t survive – complaining to be marginalized as a rapper.
Kanye came to me for an internship. He also applied at Raf. But could you believe that? Kanye interning with me?