A decade ago, computer scientist Tim Berners-Lee (aka the inventor of the world wide web) was asked what had proved the most revelatory use of the internet. His response was succinct: “Kittens”.
Adorable fluffy felines represent a digital lingua franca, saturating our daily lives via viral clips, memes, emojis, GIFs and filters. Kittens might be traded for puppies, babies, starry-eyed sloths, perhaps even cartoon food, but all of these forms express a wider truth: cuteness can no longer be dismissed as a childish diversion; it has become a cultural force and global obsession.
Cuteness demands serious consideration — and it inspires a major new exhibition at London’s Somerset House.
“I’ve never come across a subject as rich as this; it’s so multi-layered,” says Claire Catterall, curator of Cute. “Cuteness embraces a kind of femininity, but it also embraces otherness in a way that wider society does not. That allows for people to be anything they want. In recent years, it’s been used in interesting and surprising ways, especially by artists and musicians describing their own mode of existence.”
We not only see cuteness; we feel it deeply. It is arguably primal, triggering a dopamine rush that implies an innate urge to protect the young and vulnerable. It also has a fuzzy history, despite the burgeoning academic field of “cute studies”. The English-language word is originally a contraction of “acute” (ie, shrewd or sharp), and its meaning as endearing or attractive emerged during the 19th century.
The exhibition explores a broad worldview, particularly via the transnational rise of Japanese kawaii pop culture. Kawaii roughly translates as “loveable” and its aesthetic (rounded, babyish, blushing features) can be found everywhere from comics to couture fashion. As the US-based academic Kumiko Sato has noted: “The Japanese idea of cuteness in fact emphasises the sense of pathos that the powerless and helpless object inspires in the observer’s mind . . . kawaii suggests a pity for things loved and protected.”
Such conflicting emotions fuel the sprawling, seemingly irrepressible force of Cute, and Somerset House provides a suitably labyrinthine venue. When I visit the exhibition, I stumble first into its glitterball-lit Hello Kitty “disco”, dedicated to the feline kawaii icon conceived 50 years ago by Japanese company Sanrio.
The character’s simple, instantly recognisable features and bow have remained unchanged over the decades as she developed into a billion-dollar franchise (analysed in Christine R Yano’s 2013 book Pink Globalization: Hello Kitty’s Trek across the Pacific).
An exhibit of Hello Kitty memorabilia whisks me back to my own girlhood. I have long tidied away my juvenile collections of similar toys and cutesy stationery — but I could never bring myself to abandon them.
The show is packed with beguiling tones and textures; arcade cabinets are crafted to resemble candy-coloured frogs and even the exhibit captions are covered with flock “skin” like that found on Sylvanian Families toys.
There are also hints of something more unsettling. Beautiful-nightmarish creatures inhabit the luminescent prints of Ram Han (“Save Our Souls”, 2022) and the florid canvases of Rachel Maclean (“!step on no petS Step on no pets!”, 2021). Mark Leckey’s film about a unicorn plushie cast adrift (“Dazzleddark”, 2023), which also starred in his recent Turner Contemporary exhibition, is both enchanting and eerie. Cosima von Bonin’s toy-sculpture “Killer Whale With Long Eyelashes” (2018) is slumped over a chair, seemingly crushed by its own cuddly heft.
Artworks are organised in five “clusters” with titles such as Cry Baby and Sugar-Coated Pill. Each section features an accompanying video by artist Bart Seng Wen Long, who is also co-founder of the curatorial platform Kawaii Agency.
“When I was growing up in Singapore, cuteness pervaded every part of everyday life — not just cartoons, but also in marketing, and by the government to impart political campaigns,” explains Seng. “You start realising that cuteness has this strange duality; it’s so vulnerable, but because of that, it has so much power. It encourages in the beholder a sense of protectiveness, tenderness and connection, and because of that, you can use it to influence people to certain actions or beliefs quite easily.”
Seng’s videos are mesmerising; each depicts a shape-shifting dancer, performing within a mobile phone frame while cute memes and make-up tutorials bombard the screen. “I wanted to represent the hyperkinetic intensity in these interactions, and the way that it supercharges our own self-narratives,” says Seng. “I took references from TikTok trends, K-pop idols, role-playing, and ‘VTubers’ [who live-stream as digital avatars]. It provides a very rich palette to play with.”
If cuteness was once overlooked for its playfulness and “girly” details, then all of these qualities are being reclaimed as the ultimate soft power. Elsewhere in the exhibition there’s a full-room “girls’ sleepover” installation designed by “hyper-pop” musician and visual artist Hannah Diamond. “This exhibition really explores all the different dimensions, or entities, that cuteness could be. I’m keen to use a word like ‘girlishness’ rather than femininity, because it’s not actually a gendered concept any more,” says Diamond.
When she began releasing music with the label and art collective PC Music a decade ago, she was ambivalent about her material being described as “cute”; she has since seized that spirit across her vivid pink-and-blue imagery and sweet electronic melodies, including in her latest album Perfect Picture.
“I’ve learned that there’s power to be had in a place where I had previously felt disempowered,” she says. “My installation invites everybody to come in and lie down on these huge beanbags, and be sonically and visually immersed in girlishness — and to experience it in the way that girls online are experiencing this visual culture.”
I wonder whether adults need cuteness more than ever in intensely troubled times. When we scroll through our newsfeeds, they dissolve into an infinite loop of cuteness and trauma. “Cuteness embraces the darkness in a positive way,” says Catterall. “If you’re struggling with your mood, cuteness can really help with that. It upends all our preconceived notions of what our world should be.”
Cuteness gives that giddy energy, the lush comfort of nostalgia, the thrilling potential of escape or becoming something else entirely — so how could we possibly resist? “I hope that everyone can feel inspired, energised or transformed by just being in that space,” says Diamond. “Because that’s what cuteness does for me.”
To April 14, somersethouse.org.uk
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