In its latest collection, Prada once again turns to art, but without simply transferring paintings onto clothes. Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons work with colour, composition, lines and the character of individual artworks, then translate those elements into the collection.
This is especially visible in the skirts. A single garment becomes a canvas for completely different artistic approaches.
Anne Truitt, Damask, 1980
American artist Anne Truitt was known for her minimalist vertical forms and precise use of colour. In Damask, a narrow elongated structure is divided into contrasting shades of green.
Prada translates the same logic into a white skirt with a long green panel running down one side. There is no direct print or attempt to reproduce the artwork. Instead, its proportions and colour become part of the garment’s construction.
Kazuo Shiraga, Chijikusei Gotenrai, 1961
With Kazuo Shiraga, things become much more aggressive. The Japanese artist, closely associated with the Gutai group, approached painting as a physical act and famously created works using his feet.
His red, black and white gestures appear on a Prada skirt as a chaotic painted surface. What survives here is the energy of the original: irregular lines, splashes and movement. Once placed on the body, the composition gains another dimension as the fabric moves.
Mark Rothko, No. 2 (Blue, Red and Green), 1953
Rothko is almost instantly recognisable through his large fields of colour. Prada takes this principle and reduces the skirt to blocks of pink and black.
Again, there is no need to quote the painting literally. The relationship between the colours, their scale and their placement is enough for the connection to become visible.
Utagawa Kunisada, Sumidagawa Bairo Shinshi, 1847
Elsewhere, Prada turns to a completely different artistic tradition. Utagawa Kunisada’s work brings nineteenth-century Japanese woodblock printing into the conversation, with its decorative surfaces, floral motifs and intricate compositions.
In the collection, this reference appears on a skirt covered in a delicate floral pattern with a vertical panel. Next to Truitt’s minimalism and Shiraga’s abstraction, it feels almost unexpected, which is precisely what makes the combination interesting.
Mary Heilmann, Tehachapi #1, 1979
With Mary Heilmann, Prada picks up on simple geometry and colour. A pink background, a large black field, very few elements.
On the skirt, the composition barely needs translating. The painting already operates through principles closely related to fashion design: colour, scale and proportion determine everything.
Anne Truitt, Apricacin, 1962
The collection returns to Truitt once again, this time through a dark surface interrupted by a vivid red-orange vertical stripe.
Prada brings the same idea to a black skirt with a contrasting stripe running along its side. Once again, the artwork determines the composition of the garment rather than becoming decoration placed on top of it.
That is what makes these references so interesting to view side by side. Prada does not turn the collection into an exhibition of reproductions. One artist provides colour, another gesture, another geometry or a way of dividing a surface. On the runway, all of it becomes part of Prada’s own visual language.
And perhaps this is where Raf Simons’ hand is most visible. His relationship with contemporary art has long been part of his approach to fashion, but it works best when the reference does not immediately announce itself. First you want to look at the clothes. Then you want to find out where they came from.
