Gradients of Guilt: Shoes, Iggy Azalea and Defeat

As my Instagram feed overflows with images from the latest runway shows, the notion of shoes takes an unexpected exploration in the Last Tango exhibition “Gradients of the Grotesque: A Stampede of Crocs, Buffalos, and Gazelles”. In this space, I couldn’t help but play in my head the lyrics of Work by Iggy Azalea: “Walk a mile in these Louboutins,” while seeing iterations of heels, sabots, pumps, and loafers. The following verses, “Valley girls giving blow jobs for Louboutins / What you call that? / Head over heels,” encapsulate the intersection of sex work, fashion, and labor, echoing the exhibition’s overarching theme. They question the desire to earn and invest in luxury while exposing the class structures and power dynamics that fashion upholds.

My visit to the exhibition coincided with a time of personal struggle—a struggle to find my place in the art world, and more broadly, to find a reason to continue participating in it. While overproduction and overconsumption of not just goods but ideas, emotions, and labor permeate our daily lives, conversation about art seems hollow. This relentless excess forces us to rethink the frameworks that govern our social and cultural structures. Gradients of the Grotesque seems to me to elaborate on this tension between self-decadence and a thrust to remodel our patterns of consumption. The artists in this exhibition literally and figuratively deconstruct shoes to reflect on the foundation we stand on—the starting point from which we might lift ourselves and eventually strive for change.

Emma Bertuchoz opens the exhibition with assembled objects that resemble human prosthetics. Emphasis is placed on the resting position in which the sculptures are positioned. While symbolizing the stages of falling and rising, they challenge ableist norms by presenting rest, rather than the urge to "get up and keep walking," as a form of resistance. This suggests that choosing not to rise after a fall can be an intentional act of defiance against societal expectations.

In the second room of Last Tango, most of the artists present works that intricately combine shoes with grotesque theories. Two central stakes—seemingly structural to the room—appear to connect the floor to the ceiling. At the top of these stakes are a pair of pump shoes. Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that the stakes are actually the heels of the shoes. In "Farol" (2024), Manuela Morales Délano manipulates these high heels, placing them out of reach, evoking the act of throwing shoes—a historical gesture of protest. Délano transforms this act of defiance into a static moment of longing. In her piece, the protest has already occurred; the shoes have been thrown, and now resistance lingers in the air, captured mid-motion.

Surrounding Délano’s piece are enigmatic works by Tenant of Culture. They elaborate on the grotesque, employing shoes with an attitude of sculptural collage. These pieces reflect on overconsumption, layering different types of footwear to convey personal guilt. They encapsulate the tension between value and waste in contemporary life, yet its literalness leaves me without the tools to reimagine my own consumption patterns. Instead, I feel a weight—a heavy shoe pressing down on my chest, like a Louboutin bought through sacrifice, now collecting dust, unused.

In another corner of the room, Genovese’s piece brings a touch of fantasy to the exhibition, sparking curiosity with unexpected juxtapositions of materials and shapes. A metal pedestal with cut-out areas supports an organic, bodily sculpture that vaguely resembles Elvis’s hair. Titled "Pelvis the Pelvis", the piece seems to comment on the decadence of modern symbols. The wig, crafted from fake Gucci leather, shines with superficial glamour, while the ceramic piece it adorns looks decayed, distressed, and tired. Upon closer inspection, the cheese-like glazed sculpture evokes the shape of boots or breasts, carrying us back to the core unsettling feeling of grotesque footwear. This eerie juxtaposition of glamour and decay seems to reflect the paradox of an exhausted body draped in the latest fake Prada—mass-produced by Zara and sold worldwide. And once again, I am caught off guard reflected in the mirror: my own struggling self, unsure of where to stand in this slippery, overconsuming system

The exhibition echoed my internal state during the visit: a deep sense of hopelessness, made even more tangible by the news that Gradients of the Grotesque would be Last Tango’s final show. As their closure announcement stated, “Despite our best efforts and dedication, the realities of running a self-organized independent exhibition space and the rising costs have caught up with us.”* It’s a closure, not a failure—rest, not defeat, much like Bertuchoz’s pieces suggest. In a way, Last Tango has chosen, for now, to linger in rest rather than get up and keep walking.

Still, both the exhibition and the news carry a tone of shared struggle—plodding forward against the wind; a wind driven by modern society that not only fails to notice us but shifts its burdens onto our shoulders. Should we bear the weight of the climate crisis and the social disasters caused by the fashion industry? Is Last Tango’s closure a sign of our collective failure to fight these systems, or is it a galvanizing call for deeper structural change?

What’s clear from this exhibition is that shoes embody a complex symbolism. They divide us from the ground beneath our feet, yet they also form the foundation from which we either rise or fall. While Azalea’s lyrics remind us of the power that shoes symbolize, it’s now time to recognize the layered responsibility that comes with desiring and owning shoes—and to reflect on how those desires entangle us in a system that often leaves us feeling powerless. Last Tango may have reached its end, but whether we fall with it or rise again, we will pay attention to what our feet are standing on.

* Last Tango Closure Announcement | https://www.lasttango.info/information