On a chilly Saturday afternoon in San Francisco, the streets buzz with shoppers despite the weather. After finding a great deal on jeans, I stumble upon a store dedicated entirely to Christmas decorations. As I navigate through an array of artificial trees and festive figures, something catches my eye.
Displayed with unexpected elegance in a golden box is a hanging ornament shaped like the Trevi Fountain, complete with a "complimentary papal blessing." Its rough details might seem mundane, but the entire piece is enveloped in glitter. Under the store's lights, this exquisite miniature of Baroque architecture radiates brilliance, symbolizing hope and a brighter future.
While glitter is often associated with holiday cheer, its presence extends far beyond, appearing in cosmetics, credit cards, and notably, contemporary art.
The origins of glitter are distinctly American, dating back to the late 1930s. German immigrant Henry Ruschmann patented a high-speed machine for cutting photographic prints, producing glossy cellulose "schnibbles" as waste. When his workers began using these scraps as artificial snow, glitter as we know it was born. Today, Ruschmann's company offers an array of glitter types, including fluorescent and biodegradable options, addressing environmental concerns.
In his 1979 essay "Light in its Artistic Manifestations," Hans Sedlmayr discusses "phototropic eras" marked by the discovery of luminous materials in art. It's unfortunate that his study ends with mirrors in 17th-century France, as glitter undoubtedly deserves a place in this discourse.
Glitter not only reflects and refracts light but also flattens surfaces. Cover a sculpture with it, and depth fades into a sparkling layer. Andy Warhol's assertion that understanding him requires looking at the surface of his paintings resonates with his use of diamond dust. Though not technically glitter, this crushed glass conveys a similar message: glamour achieved inexpensively, emblematic of 20th-century American consumer culture.
Often dismissed as trivial, glitter is frequently linked to marginalized identities and communities, as noted by Nicole Seymour in her 2022 book. It is associated with children, women, drag performers, and other underrepresented groups, highlighting the intersections of identity.
Its ties to queer culture emerged in the 1950s with drag performances and continue today, evident in costumes and makeup in popular shows like "RuPaul's Drag Race." In visual arts, glitter serves to amplify the visibility of marginalized identities. Artists like Thomas Lanigan-Schmidt utilize glitter to transform mundane materials into spiritually resonant works that blend camp aesthetics with devotion.
Glitter also empowers marginalized racial and ethnic communities to challenge stereotypes. Quil Lemons' 2017 photographic series "GLITTERBOY" features young Black men adorned with glitter, emphasizing the constraints of social expectations on identity and behavior.
Despite its layered meanings, the art market remains hesitant to embrace glitter-infused artworks. A recent visit to Art Basel Miami revealed a scarcity of glittering pieces, with only a few artists incorporating it into their work.
One evening, while exploring a hotel lobby repurposed as an art fair, I discovered an abundance of glittering artworks: iridescent butterflies and portraits of Hollywood icons, all shimmering under a layer of sparkle. The audience around me donned glittery attire, showcasing the vibrant culture surrounding this material.
If Sedlmayr had witnessed this scene, he might have reconsidered his views. Glitter has transformed from a symbol of grandeur to one of accessibility and rebellion, democratizing light in a way that challenges the contemporary art world.
