Chloë Cassens and Jean Cocteau: Sacred Monster of Art

Philippe Halsman Jean Cocteau, New York, USA. 1949. © Philippe Halsman / Magnum Photos

By CARLOTA GAMBOA May 28, 2024

After first learning about writer and representative of The Severin Wunderman Collection (the largest collection of French artist Jean Cocteau) Chloë Cassens, I knew I had to speak with her. Cassens has an experimental and spontaneous spirit. She is someone who embarked on a surprising trajectory of personal exploration and has gone from the music industry to working for The Sex Ed to stints as a radio DJ. She is someone whose personal motto is “why the f**k not.”  

But it seems that her boat has finally moored (at least for the time-being) with representing the lasting influence of Jean Cocteau. As an explorative essayist who believes that art should be enjoyed by all, it is obvious that her fate isn’t the only thing that aligns with Cocteau. Cassens is a writer who works the way she lives. The Los Angeles native spent most of her formative years ping-ponging between SoCal, Switzerland, and the South of France. Granddaughter of Séverin Wunderman—a Holocaust survivor who would go on to thrive as the businessman that convinced Aldo Gucci to hand over the Gucci watch license in 1968—Chloë grew up immersed in a world of art. Not only did Wunderman carve a name out for himself in the world of time-pieces, he amassed the largest collection of visual art and memorabilia linked to Cocteau.

Born in a commune in the North of France, Cocteau was one of the foremost figures in the early 20th century avant-garde. He was associated with surrealism and the Dadaist movement. When World War I began, Cocteau served in the Red Cross as an ambulance driver and befriended Guillaume Apollinaire, Pablo Picasso and Amedeo Modigliani. However, his solid connections within influential art circles didn’t begin or end there. Cocteau’s novels were first published in 1923, but he gained most of his recognition for his contributions as a film-maker. The American film historian Annette Insdorf has recalled that Cocteau "left behind a body of work unequaled for its variety of artistic expression."

Jean Cocteau, Lo specchio di Orfeo (Miroir d’Orphée). Orpheus’s Mirror (Miroir d’Orphée), 1960/1989. Bronzo dorato, argento e rame. Gilded bronze, silver, and copper, 32 x 20 x 9 cm. Edizione Artcurial 1/20. Edition Artcurial 1/20. Bruxelles, Collezione Kontaxopoulos Prokopchuk. Collection Kontaxopoulos Prokopchuk, Brussels. Photo ©yankont@pt.lu. © Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.

Cassens became the representative of The Severin Wunderman Collection in 2023 after what she describes as a late-night “bolt-up-right” moment. At that point, she had been working as the media director for Liz Goldwyn’s “The Sex Ed” podcast, but had suddenly been struck with an overwhelming question: who is in charge of the Cocteau collection? Running in the background of this newfound query was a lot of niche knowledge and experience that had been preparing her for its undertaking; “I got my first job at The Roxy when I was 14 because my parents told me I needed to do something with the summer,” she explains. “I cold-emailed them and was suddenly in charge of their MySpace page.” Whether it burst from the thesis she wrote on Cocteau during her time at Barnard, or this kind of whimsical fearlessness in the face of a goal, it became obvious to Cassens that she was the one who was supposed to take on this responsibility.

Not only does Cassens now oversee her grandfather’s collection, which makes up the entirety of Musée Jean Cocteau in Menton, France, she has converged her academic training with the indie-sleaze-era form of blogging to give way to her new project: a biweekly substack entitled SACRED MONSTER. During our conversation, Cassens emphasized that “art should be for everybody. Jean Cocteau is for everybody…it’s just about finding that crack in the door.”

This is what her essays are about, since this project is primarily an educational one. “Bonjour à tous et à toutes,” begins her essay from the last week of April, called “Sacred Musings,” in which Cassens shares a mixture of observations, recommendations, and hot-takes. The essays are a lot of fun, both witty and illuminating, presenting a cultural lens on the little-known histories around the seminal figure that was Cocteau. Her most popular essay, entitled “Sexy, Sparkling, and Grotesque,” reflects on the progressive nature of Cocteau’s 1946 rendition of La Belle et La Bête (Beauty and The Beast). She explores the symbolic landscape that communicates so intimately with the audience, while transgressively ahead of its time.

Jean Cocteau, Senta titolo, disegno in un libro degli ospiti di Peggy Guggenheim, 1956. Untitled, Drawing in Peggy Guggenheim’s third guest book, 1956. Inchiostro su carta. Ink on paper, 22,9 x 15,6 cm. Collezione privata. Private collection. © Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.

Cassens grew up surrounded by a lot of Cocteau’s pieces, but their significance in her life (or to art history in general) took time in being fully understood. This seems fair, children are only privy to the world they’re presented with. She mentions how her grandfather “wasn’t a wag-his-finger, or don’t touch kind of guy.” She goes on to elaborate that, “there was a kind of purity in his interests. He collected things because he loved them. He was like a little kid who wanted to share his favorite toys with those he cared about.” This kind of attitude made her feel that art wasn’t something to be intimidated by.

So unafraid Cassens was by her family’s art collection, she often spent her summer days in a wine cellar lined by the metal sconces used as props in La Belle et La Bête: “My grandfather’s chateau was always full of my cousins and tons of family. When I wanted to get away for some quiet time, when I needed to hide somewhere with a book, I would go into this dungeon-turned-wine cellar. You could feel a lot of energy in the space, and it kind of became my special room. I didn’t think much of it then, but it left an impression in retrospect.”

SACRED MONSTER is as much about Jean Cocteau as it is about Cassens, about Wunderman as it is about the culture at-large. There is something for everyone: from Cocteau’s transgressive, unabashedly queer erotica to his esoteric explorations of myth, from Wunderman’s storied life and obsessions to Cassens’ irresistible musings on Vanderpump Rules and surrealism. The line from Cocteau to any number of aspects of life today are too numerous to count. As Cassens points out: “He is your icon’s icon. (Or, perhaps, your icon’s icon’s icon).”

When talking about how the project might expand in the future, Cassens made it clear that the essays are only the beginning: “There’s definitely more up my sleeve.” It’s exciting to think how Cocteau could become a more prominent figure of the mainstream when one thinks of the history of surrealism. This month, The Severin Wunderman Collection granted its biggest loan to date. On view from April 13th to September 16th, the Peggy Guggenheim in Venice is featuring Cocteau’s largest retrospective in the past 20 years with Jean Cocteau: The Juggler’s Revenge. By including relevant drawings, graphics, photographs, magazines, documentaries, and films, the exhibit not only hopes to rightfully portray the artist's unique personality and personal aesthetics, but what made him such a contentious figure with his contemporaries.  

To learn more about Chloë Cassens, please visit her website, and to sign up for SACRED MONSTER, please visit here. WM