When Olympic skier Eileen Gu walked the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art at the Met Gala on May 4, she wore a short, shimmering gown that appeared to be made of thousands of iridescent soap bubbles caught mid-float, clustered across her body and trailing into the air behind her.
It was created by Iris van Herpen in collaboration with the Tokyo-London design studio A.A.Murakami. Assembled from 15,000 hand-formed glass bubbles, it took 2,550 hours to construct, and contained hidden microprocessors that released real bubbles into the air as Gu moved.
It was also a glimpse into the show that opens at the Brooklyn Museum on May 16: Iris van Herpen: Sculpting the Senses, the North American debut of a retrospective that has already traveled from Paris to Brisbane, Australia, then Singapore and the Netherlands.
The 2016 original of that bubble dress will be in the show. “It represents the air that’s inside of our bodies,” says Matthew Yokobosky, the Brooklyn Museum’s senior curator of fashion and material culture. “Over 90% of our bodies are made up of air.”
Over two decades, van Herpen has built a body of work that treats science as a creative collaborator. She has made couture inspired by the air in our lungs, the architecture of a stingray’s skeleton, the magnetic fields of the Large Hadron Collider. She has worked with architects, paleontologists, and biologists, and used everything from iron filings to magnets to bioluminescent algae as raw materials. In doing so, she has quietly redefined what it means for fashion to be art.
The Brooklyn Museum has been making that argument for nearly a century. Its 1934 Story of Silk exhibition is often cited as the beginning of fashion’s museum era; it has since staged retrospectives of work by Madame Grès, Schiaparelli, Jean Paul Gaultier, Pierre Cardin, Christian Dior, Virgil Abloh, and Thierry Mugler. Sculpting the Senses extends the lineage.
Water in all its forms
The bubble dress is a launchpad for the exhibit. “The show starts about different inspirations from the different forms of water, liquid, frozen, gaseous, and how all those different states have been equally informative for her as a design inspiration,” Yokobosky explains.
It is paired with a piece by the Japanese art collective Mé, a work that Yokobosky says “looks as if they had taken a slice of the ocean and put it into the gallery.”
Van Herpen, who grew up in the Dutch village of Wamel, has returned again and again to water in all its states. That preoccupation goes back to the work that put her on the map. Her 2010 Crystallization collection, built around limestone deposits, ice crystals, and the choreography of a splash, contained the first 3D-printed garment ever shown on a fashion runway.
The skeletal, ivory-colored top made in collaboration with British architect Daniel Widrig, is on display in Brooklyn. Depending on the angle, the piece looks like a fossilized vertebra or a Dutch ruff from the 17th century. Materialise, the Belgian 3D-printing firm that helped fabricate it, had until then been making architectural models.
Bones, fossils, and a baby dinosaur
Since the natural history specimens in the Paris version of van Herpen’s show couldn’t travel, Yokobosky struck up a new partnership with the American Museum of Natural History. The Brooklyn show now includes an 80-million-year-old ichthyosaur skeleton and a baby dinosaur, displayed in dialogue with van Herpen’s bone-inspired couture. A gown built around the architecture of bird skeletons sits near the dinosaur fossils—a nod to the fact that birds are the closest living relatives of dinosaurs.
“When you look at Iris’s gown, you don’t necessarily see bones immediately, but as you look more closely, you realize that there are all those articulations of bone,” Yokobosky says.
Biomimicry runs deep in van Herpen’s work. Her atelier doesn’t replicate a fish scale; it studies how a fish scale is structured, then translates that structure into a new material. Lucid (2016) borrowed from the orb webs of argiope spiders. Sympoiesis and Sensory Seas took their cues from coral systems.
The designer’s work has a sustainability dimension too. Van Herpen has experimented with garments made from recycled plastic ocean waste, 3D-printed cocoa beans, and, last year, created a “living” dress in collaboration with biodesigner Chris Bellamy that was seeded with 125 million bioluminescent algae.
In an industry that produces somewhere between 92 million and 100 million tons of textile waste every year, the gesture suggests that garments don’t have to come from petrochemicals. They can come from a lab, or a forest, or—occasionally—a tide pool.
The slowest fashion
The most quietly radical section of the show may be the one with no garment at all. For the Brooklyn exhibit, van Herpen created a new video installation that takes the small, often invisible gestures of her atelier—the placement of a hand, the catch of a needle, the slow accumulation of a single embroidered surface—and projects them, unedited and in real time, onto 25-foot-high screens inside the museum’s 70-foot rotunda.
“She really wanted people to understand the slow process that goes into making couture . . . what emerges from this long, meditative process,” Yokobosky says.
Fashion in 2026 is dominated by AI-generated lookbooks, Shein-style ultrafast cycles, and the increasingly seamless integration of agentic commerce into the shopping experience. In contrast, van Herpen does not even do ready-to-wear; she focuses entirely on couture. She still makes everything by hand, in collaboration with a rotating cast of scientists and artists, and she still sells the pieces. She just doesn’t make very many of them.
“She is very devoted to the craft of couture and to experimenting and helping us understand what is possible in the future of fashion,” Yokobosky says.
The Brooklyn show closes in a space the museum is calling Cosmic Bloom: a darkened room full of mannequins suspended from the ceiling at strange angles, wearing some of van Herpen’s most surreal and saturated gowns. It is also a clear statement of what the entire exhibition is arguing—that the body, in van Herpen’s hands, isn’t a hanger for product. It is a small piece of the universe, and clothing is one of the languages we use to describe it.
Sculpting the Senses runs through December 6.
