CHLOË CASSENS
CHLOË CASSENS
TEXT KATE HOAG
Chloë Cassens by Studio Lazareff ©studiolazareff
As one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century, Jean Cocteau deserves his flowers, and Chloë Cassens will be the first to throw them. The granddaughter of Severin Wunderman, the founder of the Gucci Timepieces who left behind the most significant collection of Cocteau’s art, Cassens brings a unique and deeply personal perspective to Cocteau’s works, and is dedicated to sharing the legacy of French multidisciplinary artist with a whole new generation. Through her project Sacred Monster, she examines the timeless themes of Cocteau’s work and culture at-large.
In this conversation, we spoke with Cassens about Sacred Monster, Cocteau’s influence on queer art, how his work fits into today’s art world, and the artists she believes carry his legacy forward.
Portrait of Chloë Cassens. Photography by Frédéric Tröhler.
What inspired you to create the Sacred Monster project, and what are its primary objectives?
I was inspired to start Sacred Monster when I realized that, more and more, people are becoming unfamiliar with Jean Cocteau. On the opposite side of the equation, I also realised that because he was so intensely private during his lifetime, my grandfather was now a near-totally anonymous figure, despite the fact that he was incredibly important to the history of watchmaking. My objectives are to educate people about, and celebrate, these two incredibly interesting and important men in a way that’s engaging, relevant and fun! I like to say that subscribing to Sacred Monster will make you smarter in a way that won’t hurt—unless you’re into that kind of thing, in which case, I’m happy to oblige.
How has your role as the representative of the Severin Wunderman Collection shaped your approach to sharing Cocteau’s work with contemporary audiences?
I feel an enormous responsibility representing my grandfather’s collection, as well as in my role in relation to the legacy of Jean Cocteau. This is deeply, deeply personal to me, and while I always aim to make this material digestible and understandable to a wide audience, I always seek to treat it with the dignity I feel it deserves.
Left: Severin Wunderman. Courtesy of Chloë Cassens. Right: Severin Wunderman with granddaughter, Chloë Cassens. Courtesy of Chloe Cassens.
Do you think Cocteau’s work would provoke the same kind of reactions today as it did during his time, or has our cultural understanding of erotic art, especially queer erotic art, shifted?
I think that, if Cocteau were around today, his work would more than likely be different, as our sensibilities are very different compared to then. There’s still so much about Cocteau’s work that is transcendent and mind-blowing today, but I do think that much of the shock value of it back then came from the fact that he was so unapologetic about his queerness; I’m not sure that simply being queer is all that shocking or transgressive today, particularly in the Parisian cultural scene that nurtured him.
That said, I still run into people and institutions that have heightened reactions to his work that, in particular, deal with his sexuality and are erotic in nature. I find that a lot of people are very uncomfortable accepting and sitting with the fact that—whoever you think is responsible for it, be it God or nature or coincidence or a combination of all three—as human beings, we are born with pleasure centres in our bodies (be they the clitoris, prostate, or other erogenous zones!). Eroticism and sex are God-given, perhaps, depending on your view, and come naturally to us. Cocteau’s erotic works are very frank about it. He has many beautiful pieces which highlight that mind-body-soul connection that, as human beings, we’re lucky to experience when we give and receive pleasure.
Jean Cocteau, Fear Giving Wings to Courage (La Peur donnant des ailes au courage), 1938. Graphite, chalk, and crayon on cotton, 154.9 x 272.1 cm. Collection of Phoenix Art Museum, Gift of Mr. Cornelius Ruxton Love Jr © Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024. Courtesy of Peggy Guggenheim.
What similarities or differences do you see between Cocteau’s queer artistic themes and those explored (and perhaps more widely recognised) by artists such as Tom of Finland?
Well, they certainly both had a thing for a man in uniform! Cocteau famously loved sailors—a lot of his more explicit sexual art features seamen (pun intended). What sets Cocteau’s work apart from his artistic and creative descendants, I find, is that Cocteau was in many ways very ethereal and cerebral; he took inspiration from Greek mythology and fairy tales throughout most of his oeuvre. But, where I see the most overlap is in a sense of lightness and humour; there’s a tongue-in-cheek aspect to both Cocteau and Tom of Finland, for instance. Neither seemed to shy away from celebrating and highlighting same-sex male beauty in all its forms. It’s a parade of well-endowed hunks!
Jean Cocteau, Illustrated Letter, Portrait of Peggy Guggenheim s.d. (1956 c.) [recto and verso], Ink on paper, 22.5 x 15.5 cm. Private collection © Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024. Courtesy of Peggy Guggenheim.
Who are some artists today that you feel carry Cocteau’s artistic influence in their work?
I think that any artist today that works fluidly between mediums—be they a painter who also sings opera, or a film-maker who choreographs, or a musician who maintains a printing press, and so on—walks in the path of Jean Cocteau. I’ve seen echoes of his work in the work of people as far-ranging as Ariana Papademetropoulos, Isabelle Albuquerque, Daniel Roseberry, Tim Burton, Tilda Swinton, Dilara Findikoglu, Jacob Anderson, Nick Cave (both the fine artist and the musician), Prince... I have a friend in Los Angeles named Sissòn who reminds me of Cocteau—they’re one of the sharpest dressers I know, really magnetic in personality, certainly a man-about-town, and have lived a few creative lifetimes already in the fashion and fine arts worlds. I see a lot of inner and outer mythologizing in their work, much in the way of Cocteau.
If you could ask Cocteau one question about his work, what would it be?
Where does it all come from?
I certainly am familiar with the themes and experiences that influenced and inspired him, but I truly think that Cocteau had a direct line from something beyond our comprehension. I’d love to know what it was, what it looked like, how it communicated with him.
Philippe Halsman Jean Cocteau, New York, USA. 1949 © Philippe Halsman / Magnum Photos. Courtesy of Peggy Guggenheim.
What do you think Cocteau would make of the art world today?
Jean Cocteau would certainly still be at the centre of nightlife, invited to (and in attendance at) every party. I imagine he’d be on the art fair circuit, going to every Frieze, Art Basel, Biennale, gala...
Jean Cocteau, Oedipus, or, the Crossing of Three Roads (Œdipe ou le carrefour des trois routes), 1951. Oil on canvas, 97 x 129 cm. Private Collection © Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024. Courtesy of Peggy Guggenheim.
What do you think people often miss when considering Cocteau’s impact on art and culture?
Cocteau’s impacts on art and culture were so seismic that, ironically, they’ve been completely absorbed and taken for granted today. When he released Le sang d’un poète [The Blood of a Poet] (1932), his first film, it was in many ways autobiographical. This was so unusual and transgressive at the time— to put one’s self, their psyche and insecurities and traumas, into their work, it was considered by many to be gauche. André Breton, the leader of the Surrealist movement, hated Cocteau for this reason (and many others) and as such always referred to the film as Le sang menstruel d’un poète (the menstrual blood of a poet). Even the fact that Cocteau was a highly social person, a fixture in Parisian nightlife, was a knock against him at the time. A lot of his contemporaries wrote him off as a party boy because of it. Nowadays, we don’t blink twice when we see artists pursue a social life outside of their studios.
What future projects do you have in mind to further explore and celebrate Cocteau’s legacy?
I have a lot in the works, and a lot of it I can’t talk about yet! I am working on a book about Severin, as well as a short documentary about him that should premiere in 2025. I also have some very exciting Cocteau-focused speaking engagements and lectures lined up. My favourite thing to do is speak to an in-person crowd about Cocteau, and I’m really thrilled to do more of it in the future.
Chloë Cassens by Studio Lazareff ©studiolazareff