Wearable house dress by Robert Fontanelli

Robert Fontanelli’s work — drawings and 3-D re-creations of those drawings — is daring. It incorporates fashion and furniture in equal measure. And it’s erotic. I am obsessed. Last week, Fontanelli answered some of my questions and shared images of his new work.

Bradford Shellhammer: Your drawings contain a myriad of images — fashion, eroticism, modern furniture. When did you start incorporating these elements?

Robert Fontanelli: I have a jam-packed box from circa 1997 filled with fantasy drawings done on scraps of paper and Post-Its. I would do these drawings when my mind started to wander away from my demanding but largely uncreative corporate art-director job at Estée Lauder. And that happened frequently, I might add. I didn’t know what the drawings meant; I only knew that if I ever stopped doing them, I might almost cease to exist. I started to paste the best of these into an art pad I called “the book of interruptions.” They were germs of ideas and expressions: provocative people with ribbons for heads, or unwearable shoes with a separate platform for each toe.

B.S.: If you could choose one midcentury design you most covet, what would it be?

R.F.: Ah, that would be hard. I’m inspired by Carlo Mollino, Ettore Sottsass, Dagobert Peche, Roy McMakin (his refrigerator/bookcase!), and Czech cubism, to name a few. Paul Frankl’s skyscraper bookcase has been a muse since I first saw one in the eighties at the Brooklyn Museum “Machine Age” show. But I think I couldn’t live with something so precious as that. I believe your furniture should be used daily and not treated like a museum piece. I might have to ultimately go with a Donald Deskey zigzag lamp; there are only two or three left, or some ridiculous number like that. Plus, it doesn’t look like you could easily knock that lamp off your dresser by accident, which would put me at ease. By the way, I don’t like the term midcentury modern, because of all the clichés people assign to it. I just refer to it as 20th-century at this point, or modernism.

B.S.: Are there fashion designers who inspire your work? Who?

R.F.: Sure! Viktor and Rolf’s last show was art — those chain-sawed dresses with geometric shapes cut into them as if they were sculpture. It was a revelation when I stumbled upon a Jean-Charles de Castelbajac show at the V&A in London in 2006. There was an oversized poncho with two hoods so you could wear it with another person. And of course I admire where Hussein Chalayan has dared to go. His 2000 collection with the model wearing a coffee table is a classic. I first showed drawings of people wearing furniture about a month before that collection, so something was in the air. I’m lucky that the drawings for that PS122 show were done in 1999, because sometimes people act like I’m being derivative of him. Hell, Dali and Schiaparelli did amazing variations on that theme in the thirties. Chalayan has original takes on design and something thought-provoking to say. I like to think I do too.

Drawing by Robert Fontanelli

B.S.: Currently, you are creating 3-D versions of your drawings. What has that process been like?

R.F.: It’s a refreshing challenge. I love working with carpenters or an exceptionally talented clothing designer and having them bring something alive, something that never existed before. I’m learning a lot. But you can’t be vague and hope for the best. As any of the masterful people I’ve been lucky enough to find to work with me will tell you, I try to think out the problems first. Dimensions, proportions, textures are all elements sweated over before a project is handed over. I don’t want anyone wasting their time because of bad planning. And all the conceptual thinking is done way in advance too, so when I’m done with a 3-D piece, it works on many levels. I find also that artisans are grateful to work on art pieces — not just for the extra cash but because the things I need help creating are not part of the norm. It challenges them too. And they also bring solutions and advice.

B.S.: Has there been a drawing you could not successfully turn 3-D?

R.F.: Not yet. Next year I want to have a man measured/fitted to be inside a table. It’s as if he was getting a suit made, but I’ll be working with a carpenter instead of a tailor.

B.S.: Are the 3-D versions functional? Wearable?

R.F.: There’s a chair hat, a sofa scarf, and a house dress that are all wearable.

B.S.: Your work seems to have both males and females represented pretty equally. Do you have a preference to which you draw?

R.F.: I love drawing both equally. But nude can be deadly boring sometimes! I prefer an element of clothing to spark imagination; women just have better pieces to try to capture. Men have interesting hair on their bodies to draw, which is fun for me always. I’m also glad my men look like men and my women look like women. I’ve seen a lot of artists’ work in my day that can’t claim that! If you’re drawing a drag queen, that’s another story.

B.S.: Where do you intend to show the 3-D versions of your work?

R.F.: I’m working on that! Finding gallery representation is a job unto itself. Anybody out there? Clampart? Feature?

Drawing by Robert Fontanelli

Sofa scarf and hat sculptures by Robert Fontanelli