Chloë Cassens on Preserving the Legacy of Jean Cocteau


Chloë Cassens is a curator of both art and memory, inheriting a legacy that blends deeply with her own path. Chloë, the granddaughter of Severin Wunderman—the man behind Gucci Timepieces and a lifelong devotee of Jean Cocteau—has immersed herself in art, culture, and a deep familial connection to one of the most enigmatic artists of the 20th century.

But her journey to becoming the representative of her grandfather’s extensive Cocteau collection was anything but conventional. From her early days working at the iconic Roxy Theatre during the height of the “indie sleaze” era to a near-decade in the music industry as a radio DJ, and later, as a sex educator, Chloë’s path has been winding and eclectic. It wasn’t until a moment of epiphany that she realized her true calling—to honor and bring to light the legacy of Cocteau.

Today, she’s not just preserving history but actively educating a new generation on the enduring relevance of Cocteau’s work. Through her essay project “Sacred Monster” and her involvement in exhibitions like “Jean Cocteau: The Juggler’s Revenge,” Chloë is ensuring that Cocteau’s influence continues to resonate.

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

Chloë, thank you for taking the time to chat! You’re the granddaughter of Severin Wunderman, founder of Gucci Timepieces and lifetime devotee and collector of Jean Cocteau’s work. Can you tell us a little about your grandfather, why he started his collection, and how you became its representative?

Chloë Cassens: My grandfather was a true original and lived an extraordinary life. He was a child hidden from Nazis in the Belgian countryside, came from nothing, and achieved and acquired everything he had through sheer determination and hard work. By the time he died, he was known as “The Time Lord.” His art collection was, in some ways, the love of his life. He started collecting at a very young age and never stopped. He would tell me that the key to art collecting was never to buy anything you’d not want to see on your wall every day. When I was younger, he would tour me around his home and tell me stories about the art on the walls, I think to instill this interest and love for it that I have today. 

Cocteau, in his life and oeuvre, was so ahead of his time, he’s still ahead of us in many ways.

My path to becoming the Collection’s representative, however, was far from straightforward. I worked in the music business and as a sex educator, until one night I quite literally woke up in a cold sweat with the question, “Why am I not honoring this side of myself and my family?” Looking back, it’s almost shocking to think, despite the fact that I’ve written two theses about Cocteau, have studied and know his work from, truly, inside out, and have lived with it for my entire life, I didn’t come to this path sooner. But, then again, that’s your adolescence and twenties, right? 

Severin Wunderman.
Image courtesy of Chloë Cassens.

Your grandfather died when you were 14. What’s the last memory you have of him?

Chloë Cassens: The last thing we did together was go to the movies. He loved to walk with me and my sister to the cinema a block or so away from his home in Los Angeles. He loved movies in general. Most of the time I’d come to his house, I’d find him in the dark, on the couch, in front of a large screen, with whatever was playing at full volume. The last film he took us to see was “Iron Man” (2008). 

Jean Cocteau
Fear Giving Wings to Courage
(La Peur donnant des ailes au courage), 1938.
Graphite, chalk, and crayon on cotton,
154.9 × 272.1 cm.
Collection of Phoenix Art Museum,
Gift of Mr. Cornelius Ruxton Love Jr.
© Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.
Jean Cocteau
The Crossing of Three Roads
(Œdipe ou le carrefour des trois routes), 1951.
Oil on canvas, 97 × 129 cm.
Private Collection.
© Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.
Jean Cocteau
Illustrated Letter, Portrait of Peggy Guggenheim, c. 1956.
Ink on paper, 22.5 × 15.5 cm.
Private collection.
© Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.

You said in another interview that people in the US know Picasso, but they don’t know Cocteau! Everyone has seen Beauty and the Beast, but nobody knows that it is based on one of Cocteau’s films. You’re on a mission to educate young people on Cocteau. Tell us more. 

Chloë Cassens: Yes! I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that so many of Cocteau’s contemporaries, collaborators, and friends are household names (even if people can’t name a specific piece) and he isn’t. Cocteau has had an enormous impact on culture, and I think can continue to impact culture. The most mainstream way is, as you mentioned, by making the first “Beauty and the Beast” film, which Disney drew much inspiration from—but Cocteau, in his life and oeuvre, was so ahead of his time, he’s still ahead of us in many ways. Before David Bowie wrote his own elegy in the form of “Blackstar: (2016), Jean Cocteau had “Le Testament d’Orphée: (1960). I can’t even begin to number the ways! But, what is so special about educating people about this eternally modern man, is the fact that young people seem to instantly connect with him. I have yet to run into a young person who, after first exposure to Jean Cocteau, doesn’t dig deeper and become more enchanted by his work. 

What are your favorite works of Cocteau and why?

Chloë Cassens: My answer to this question is ever-changing—there’s just so much work to choose from. I have a soft spot for “La Belle et La Bête” (1946), and have recently enjoyed his erotica, “Le Livre Blanc” (1928). In June, I published an essay about Jean Desbordes, who was one of Cocteau’s great loves, and, while not exactly a Cocteau work, I have totally fallen in love with “J’adore” (1928), which Cocteau wrote the foreword to and championed. Poor Jean-Jean, as he was known, was ripped apart for it upon publication and not taken seriously, but I think it’s worth re-examining with 2024 eyes. It’s vulnerable, romantic, sexual … perhaps today we are better equipped to handle this subject matter. 

It’s always really moving to me to watch, in real time, someone fall madly in love with this man and his work.

Earlier this year, you launched a newsletter and an essay project called “Sacred Monster” to celebrate Cocteau. What’s been the most interesting story you’ve encountered, either with a reader or with yourself, since publishing your essays?

Chloë Cassens: I’ve gotten so many touching messages from readers since I launched, it’s remarkable to see what resonates. I got a great message from a friend of mine, a French artist named Antoine Plainfossé. I used a piece of his for one of my essays, “The Golden Ring”. He wrote to me and told me that after he posted about “Sacred Monster,” a friend of his sent him a photo of a Cocteau tattoo he’d gotten—I love seeing devotion like that, written in permanent ink. I won’t name names, but I also got a message from an acquaintance who happens to be a major director and photographer; she told me she’d brought her friend, a SUPER legendary singer, to the exhibit in Venice, and that they cried seeing it. Getting that message was really cool, and really assuring. 

Jean Cocteau
Orpheus’s Mirror (Miroir d’Orphée), 1960/1989.
Gilded bronze, silver, and copper, 32 × 20 × 9 cm.
Edition Artcurial 1/20.
Collection Kontaxopoulos Prokopchuk, Brussels
Photo © yankont@pt.lu.
© Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.
Jean Cocteau
Poetry (La Poésie), 1960.
Felt-tip pen and pastel on paper, 54 × 37 cm.
Collection Kontaxopoulos Prokopchuk, Brussels.
Photo © yankont@pt.lu.
© Adagp/Comité Cocteau, Paris, by SIAE 2024.

The essay project was created in tandem with the exhibition “Jean Cocteau: The Juggler’s Revenge” at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice, Italy, which will close its doors on September 18, 2024. In what capacity did you work with the museum? Are there any memorable moments you’d like to share? Why should we see the show?

Chloë Cassens: I have to give all credit where it’s due, and that is to Kenneth Silver, who curated the show, as well as his assistant, Blake Oetting. They really masterminded this and created something extraordinary. I was lucky enough to come in and speak to a private group of young people who work with the Peggy Guggenheim Collection and tour them around the exhibit. I consider it an honor to go into a space like the Peggy Guggenheim and educate anyone, let alone young, engaged, and curious people like the group I spoke to there. 

I think my favorite part of my work is interacting with people at speaking engagements or readings, and experiencing their reactions to Cocteau in person. It’s always really moving to me to watch, in real time, someone fall madly in love with this man and his work. I recently did a reading of one of Cocteau’s pieces here in Los Angeles and seeing the positive response was really overwhelming—a gorgeous young man came to me with tears in his eyes, he was so moved, and another man came to me and said that he felt like watching me read was like taking acid (in LA, that’s a big compliment.)

What’s the next project you’re working on?

Chloë Cassens: I have several irons in the fire! A lot of writing on the horizon: for “Sacred Monster,” of course, but also for other publications. Some projects I have already on the books for 2025, which is wild to think about. And, of course, speaking engagements! I have one coming up on September 4, here in Los Angeles, at the iconic Philosophical Research Society that I am super excited about.

Severin Wunderman.
Right: Wunderman with his
granddaughter Chloë Cassens.
Images courtesy of Chloë Cassens.

Featured image:
Chloë Cassens. Photo courtesy of Frédéric Tröhler.



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