Among the great many things I am indebted to my father for is my sense for fashion. A theater geek and a rugby hooligan, he wore Ralph Lauren, Banana Republic, and pinstripe suits in navy; never black. He had an affinity for the one-off. He still has an affinity for the one-off. For me, it was a Mike McGill shirt so ratty you couldn’t believe it was ever new and black jeans with 100 holes I could inventory each story for even now: the wear from my wallet in one pocket, my phone in another, the one from hopping that fence, and the one that ate through the hip and I wear in my skin permanently. In high school I needed everyone to know I was a skater and nothing else. Chewed up checkered Vans and Stance socks with a sublimated Hosoi or Caballero graphic. A shoelace holding my jeans at my waist. I needed everyone to know I didn’t give a fuck. I love to wear a suit and look a gentleman. I love to wear strange and intelligent articles and look enviable. Whatever I wear I want everyone to think I look good. Within Art there is art and in the art of fantasy painting there is the costume.
The Duel After the Masquerade, Jean-Léon Gérôme (1857, oil on canvas)
In Magic there are millions of unique costumes; each telling you more than the cards text could explain about the figures depicted. What we wear projects the interior world into the exterior: an expression of material function, financial means, social status — inherited or desired. The costume is invented by the artist to communicate these and other attributes to serve the narrative. A painting does not happen by accident. It is deliberate and intelligent and, at its best, honorable like fencing or chess. The infinity of the canvas yields to the will of the artist over hours and weeks and months or years. Every second is well-contemplated labor. Like any laborer, I use tools to get my job done, but there is no brush to communicate decadence. It does not serve me to use oil on board to tell you of a character’s villainous ideology more than acrylic on canvas. The tools employed are, instead, psychological. The nature of shape, color, and texture are harvested and organized into a harmonious arrangement. One such arrangement can be studied in Teysa Karlov and her various iterations.
Left to Right: Teysa, Orzhov Scion by Todd Lockwood, Teysa, Envoy of Ghosts by Karla Ortiz, Teysa Karlov by Magali Villeneuve, Teysa, Opulent Oligarch by Chris Rallis
Chronologically: Teysa, Orzhov Scion; Teysa, Envoy of Ghosts; Teysa Karlov; Teysa, Opulent Oligarch. Lets get this out of the way; yes, Magali Villeneuve is a skilled renderer but her take on Teysa Karlov is fine and in this world there’s no room for that. The silhouette is weak, the costume is hidden by a not great pose, and the materials are all rendered with way too similar values and temperatures to discern contrast. I’ll leave it at that. Teysa, Opulent Oligarch is a huge leap in design. Chris Rallis gives a much stronger pose and a beautifully crafted top, creating an excellent silhouette. There’s a great use of warms and cools in the sleeves and shoulders making a subtle distinction in material. Marks against it include pants that are literally just pants and the lack of layers. I think a horizontal break at her waist could’ve bumped this up a bit which is why Teysa, Orzhov Scion sneaks past it.
Todd Lockwood’s original interpretation of Teysa, Orzhov Scion from 2006 is so 2006 and I love it. Her hair and makeup are so, comme si dice Nu-metal-phyte, which makes her micro-expression even more bitchy in the best way. Her giant regal pauldrons sweep and flow and have grace but those just enough edge and point to keep it dangerous. The contrast in those shoulders and the silky-satin texture of her sleeves, cape, and top break up her monochromatic attire which denote her status in the faction when we meet her versus her ascendancy later on. The best thing about this costume though is a relic Magic has outlawed: the boob window. The contrast of her skin, the radiant star cut outs, it’s just so cool and fun and not something you can utilize anymore. It really emphasizes the underlying success of this costume which is found in the restraint and subtlety. It’s believable; I can show this to anyone in the world and they could understand this woman. I would proudly be buried in a suit that made me look as good as Lockwood’s Teysa…if it weren’t for Karla Ortiz.
Teysa, Envoy of Ghosts by Karla Ortiz (2013, digital)
Rembrandt, Degas, Rockwell, all great but if I could Space Jam an artist’s power it would be Karla’s and it is precisely because of what’s on display in Teysa, Envoy of Ghosts. Silhouette: hard, pose: gangster, lighting: so tough. This piece does it all for her costume though. A mixture of textures: leather, satin, metals. An egregious boob window is the brightest thing in the scene but your eyes still jump to her cutting gaze. Layers of gloves, ruffled sleeves, pauldrons under pauldrons with a giant collar. White and gold, two-tone grey, gold embellishment on black all regal and chaotic with their interrupting lines and weights. The greatest thing about this piece is that you have absolutely no business in it. Art has a strange tie to voyeurism in that when you are viewing art you are in the artist’s shoes seeing through their eyes. When you view a figure, you have a kind of agency — you’re allowed, you’re being invited to view them by the artist with or without their consent. Teysa dares you to try. Karla understands this character so well it hurts my heart. I find it too overwhelming to try to comprehend.
As an artist and a consumer some of my favorite costumes are the ones that reinvent a character. I love seeing alternate jerseys in sports, I love cosmetic skins in games, and most of all I love seeing characters depicted in casual or modern clothing. City Styles was a Secret Lair that took some of Magic’s characters and put them in fashionable modern clothing and Tsubonari’s Teysa Karlov was absolutely awesome. I’ll challenge you to explore that on your own and while you’re at it, check out Barbara Rosiak’s Teysa Karlov as well. Completely unique interpretations of the same character that can say the same things in different ways and add to them in their own ways. Both are equally believable though.
Het Pelsken by Peter Paul Rubens (1636-1638, oil on oak)
You do not dress the character; they dress themselves. How they do so and why is reverse engineered by the artist who truly understands the character. The costume is part and parcel of every atom in space, every moment in time, every wave of energy that makes up the illusion of life in every character. It’s an affirmation of life. If your costume sucks, it’s because it’s dishonest — I know mine have been.
Vagabond Gallery (he/him) is an artist, Youtuber, and author with over 2 years of experience looking at pictures and having opinions.