360 SEPTEMBER 2019 VOGUE.COM
“Therapists
would say we stay
together because
we work together.
A nd we allow
space in our
projects for each
other’s voice”
FASHION
Perfect Geometry
THEN, AGAIN
ABOVE: THE ORIGINAL
LUDO HEXAGONE IN
Van Cleef & Arpels is reintroducing its Ludo
Hexagone bracelet, which borrows the nickname of
house cofounder Louis “Ludo” Arpels. Originally
designed in 1935, this jewel-encrusted stunner
with a buckle-like clasp is offered in white, yellow,
or rose gold, with the center of each “cell” star-set
with a diamond, ruby, sapphire, or emerald.
The idea, explains the house’s president and CEO,
Nicolas Bos, is to combine elements drawn from
the couture with those found in nature—to “capture
the essence of something fragile and give it eternal
life with precious materials.” Once upon a time, this
Art Deco masterpiece would have been worn for a jazzy night
out on the town, perhaps with a bias-cut column by Vionnet.
Now, though, it’s wearable virtually around the clock.
Who, really, would want to take it off ?—laird borrelli-persson
1937: EDWARD STEICHEN/CONDÉ NAST ARCHIVES; BRACELET: COURTESY OF VAN CLEEF & ARPELS.
VLIFE
yourself,” Jason muses, plunking out a few notes on his Steinway.
“I need a car horn or something.”
You don’t have to be some kind of jazz aficionado to know Jason
Moran. The 44-year-old is a Grammy-nominated jazz pianist, a
MacArthur “genius” fellow, the artistic director for jazz at D.C.’s
Kennedy Center, a film composer, and a performance artist as likely
to appear at the Venice Biennale as at Birdland. Last
year he also premiered his first museum solo show, a
self-titled exhibition that opened at the Walker Art
Center and this month makes its final stop at the
Whitney. The show, says curator Adrienne Edwards,
“maps the conversation of the last 20 years in art-
making” through video collaborations with luminaries
like Glenn Ligon, Kara Walker, and Joan Jonas. It
also includes drawings Jason creates by covering his
piano keys in paper, then playing with fingers smudged
in charcoal dust, and his replica installations of
famous bygone jazz venues: Harlem’s Savoy Ballroom,
midtown’s bebop mecca Three Deuces, the ratty
downtown club Slugs’ Saloon (all long shuttered). At
the Whitney, Jason will regularly invite a revolving cast of musicians
to play sets on these resurrected stages. It’s an homage to the pianist’s
adopted home—he grew up in Houston—and a meditation on
history: What gets enshrined and what gets erased? What happens
when jazz moves from nightclub to front and center at a major art
institution? “A lot of cultural weight is in these spaces, but somehow
they can also go undocumented,” Jason explains. “Revolutions
happened on those very humble stages.”
Both husband and wife make work reclaiming a rich heritage
that official histories often distort or neglect. “We’ve been forced
to imagine that we have to reinvent this wheel of black success over
and over,” says Alicia. “That is an absolute lie.” A few days after
our meeting, the Morans, who collaborate frequently, are headed
to Chicago to perform Two Wings: The Music of Black America in
Migration, a concert originally commissioned by Carnegie Hall.
“Therapists would say we stay together because we work together,”
says Jason. “And we allow space in our projects for each other’s
voice.” It also helps that they fill in each other’s gaps. Jason is reserved,
quick to laugh, and eager to cede the mic to his wife.
Alicia is the opposite: loquacious, vivacious, and
sometimes deliberately outrageous. (Another way to
put it: He’s jazz, she’s opera.) The two met in their early
20s at Manhattan School of Music. He credits her with
his feminist education—“Music conservatories do a
terrible job of that”—and with helping him to find a
sense of intention in his art. Alicia, who grew up in
Connecticut, is prolific in her own right: She records
albums, works with the likes of Carrie Mae Weems and
Bill T. Jones, stages original modern operas (a recent
project about a figure-skating rivalry was performed
on skates in a rink), and, as something of a lark,
served as Audra McDonald’s understudy for the 2012
Broadway revival of The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess, taking over the
role for the national tour.
It bears noting that the Monday-morning calm I observed is not
exactly the norm. “I’ve been running a jazz household,” Alicia says.
“We run on a jazz schedule. I got me some jazzy kids.” The couple
doesn’t pretend to have achieved equilibrium, but “we have a way of
being in each other’s ear,” says Jason. “He’ll work for 10 hours on a
project,” Alicia explains. “Then I’ll come in and be like, ‘What is going
on in here?’ It’s not equal labor, but it’s getting the damn dinner to the
table.” Their life, says Jason, “is complex. We are out of balance. The
reason you become an artist is because you’re out of balance. An artist
obsesses in ways normal people don’t.” —julia felsenthal
