High Museum stomps out 'The Rise of Sneaker Culture'

Photo credit:

“Oh boy, the Curry Retirement 8s!” read one meme this weekend picturing a toothless old lady happily opening her new box Chef Currys — so named by manufacturer Under Armour for the way Curry cooks like a “master chef” on the court. Unfortunately, the Internet ain’t buyin’ it.

“Steph Curry and Under Armour really targeting that emergency room nurse demographic,” reads another meme, likening the shoes to a pair of hospital clogs. Even worse, they’ve been dubbed dad shoes. “They come complete with Dad Jeans, a half buttoned shirt, and a gold rope necklace caught in some chest hair,” another meme is captioned.

The widespread ridicule — documented in the past 48 hours by old and new media alike, from the Wall Street Journal to Deadspin — reminds us that the value of a sneaker is determined by much more than a marquis name. Even when that name happens to be the NBA’s current season MVP. Needless to say, the gear behind the glass at the High Museum’s new exhibit The Rise of Sneaker Culture are fresher than those.

Open through August 14, the exhibit presents a thorough timeline of the evolution in sneaker style, design, creativity, and cachet. Curated by Elizabeth Semmelhack of Toronto’s Bata Shoe Museum, the traveling exhibit features more than 150 sneakers, starting with utilitarian creations of the 1830s and continuing through the futuristic sneaks of today. 

It highlights the marriage between high fashion and street wear. Prada, Gucci, and Christian Louboutin are juxtaposed next to Nike’s reigning Air Jordans, Reebok Pumps, and Air Force 1s. Then there’s hip-hop’s unmistakable marketing impact featured in everything from Run-DMC’s synonymous link to shell-toe Adidas in the ’80s to luxury designer Giuseppe Zanotti’s Kid Cudi-inspired pillow-puff high tops. Creative collaborations between the likes of Adidas and fashion designer Rick Owen are also showcased. For true sneakerheads, there's plenty to wax nostalgic about and crave in the now.

Ultimately, this is a show about cultural significance, yet sometimes the necessary context proves more illusive. The underlying irony of sneaker culture, of course, is how shoes intended for athletes eventually surpassed in iconic status the superstars after whom they were branded. While the exhibit does a fine job of making the shoes the centerpiece, there’s a much more intangible product up for trade that may be harder to capture: Fanaticism.

With all the shoes uniformly presented behind glass box cases, it’s hard to get a sense of which sneakers deserve the most definitive reverence. Like, where’s the glass-carved hand of God Almighty, extending from the heavens to bestow upon earth the revered Jordan IIIs?

What the exhibit may lack in extravagant presentation, it makes up for with historical depth. Picture a pair of 1860s spiked running shoe, the original Converse All-Stars from 1923, or Jesse Owens running in something more akin to a leather loafer in the 1936 Olympics. The gendered development of sneakers for women is also explored.

A deeper reading offers a subtle critique on art and commerce as seemingly odd, yet extremely profitable, bedfellows. It reached the tipping point in the ’90s, when a fresh pair of overpriced Jordans became a matter of life-or-death in hoods across America. A looped screening of noted collector and hip-hop head Bobbito Garcia’s 2005 film Where’d You Get Those gives viewers the much-needed deep dive into the culture behind the canvas and leather.

Later this summer, the indie film KICKS tells the story of a high school baller seeking revenge after he gets jumped for a fresh pair of Jordans. But if museum exhibits represent the more benign form of sneaker culture’s contemporary craze, I’ll gladly take it. As for Curry's affordable, if less desirable, Chef Currys, you won't find ’em here for good reason.

The Rise of Sneaker Culture. Runs through August 14. High Museum of Art, 1280 Peachtree St. N.E.