Going to the flea market on Saturday mornings is a long-lived tradition. This time, I found a rare 1972 edition of a Picasso catalogue with seperate images individually applied onto the pages. The haute couture of art books so to speak. /HORST
The interior of my apartment solely constitutes itself of piled magazines. A hybrid between gallery and book shop, hence the particular need of furniture. An almost endless process of research and consideration. /HORST
Promises cannot wait, and indications are meant to be fullfilled. In realistic complentations and beautifying self-reflection. That's the purpose of photo booth, and the core motivation for stripping down in straps. /HORST
Following the tradion of David Bowie, Moby, Placebo, Natalie Imbruglia and the Spice Girls, I chose a Michiko Koshino archive piece for my latest performance in mesh, rubber and leather. /HORST
Oh, there is actually another item on my decently demanding wishlist. So in case the previous ten recommendations haven't really rang your bell, you can still go print hunting for me. /HORST
The non-existent wardrobe. Filled with gradient desire. Fetishized objects that transform from art to garment to uniform. Three short-sleeved T-shirts. Painted, printed, sulphurized. /HORST
A theoretical construct is brought into theatrical performance. The body in its centre, the garment as the opponent, a dramatic antagonist. Eventually, they find together. I'd like to call this play The Antwerp Collection. /HORST
New in my wardrobe. Just to let you know. Just to make you jealous. To adapt to the cliché of fashion blogs. But unfortunately, I won't offer self-portraits straight from the changing room. /HORST
Artwork Steven Parrino Shoes Raf Simons x Doc Martens
Refractions of light for a fractional amount of the original price. My latest acquirement. My treatment for the night. And please: don't be jealous of my booties. /HORST
Medusa's snakes have chosen me. An eternal spell engraved onto my skin. Tattooed by a thin frayed layer of organza. The prophecy of our precedent prequel has fulfilled itself. And I devote myself. /HORST
This certain time of the year has come. Presenting: the most coveted pieces. Preferably wrapped in expensive glitter paper. Awaiting the warm touch of my hands. Staged under a white plastic christmas tree. /HORST
The curse of being born in the 80s: The fashion consciousness not established enough to witness and worship the creative heights of the 90s. May it be Helmut Lang or Comme des Garçons - I want my piece of this cake now! /HORST