“I’ve always felt like an outsider… and that outsider perspective is actually a strength. It allows me to operate differently, without being constrained by existing systems.”
— Cecilia Dean

CNTRFLD. Thinking back to the very beginning, how did Visionaire first come into being—and what do you remember about those early instincts that shaped it?

CD. I always hesitate when people ask about a “beginning,” because it wasn’t a fixed moment. It was much more fluid than that. There wasn’t a clear point A and point B—it was just a series of encounters, conversations, and instincts unfolding in real time.

I had started out modelling, traveling between Paris, Milan, Tokyo, and New York, working with incredible photographers like Richard Avedon, Mario Testino, and Pamela Hanson. What I kept noticing was that after the commercial shoots—once the client left—everyone stayed. We’d keep shooting, experimenting, testing ideas. Some of the most interesting work came out of those moments, but it had nowhere to go.

There was no internet, no social media, and publishing was expensive and inaccessible. So, all this incredible work just lived in drawers.

Visionaire came from that gap. We wanted to create a space where that work could exist—almost like a printed version of what Instagram would later become. It was about showing what wasn’t being seen. In many ways, it functioned less as a magazine and more as an independent publishing experiment—a way of surfacing work that had no clear home within either the art or fashion systems.

We didn’t have a business plan. We didn’t have investors. We just made it—literally going to printers, using discarded paper, figuring things out as we went. It was naïve and exhilarating.

CNTRFLD. You’ve often worked in a space that connects artists, designers, and ideas—how do you think about that role now? Did it feel intentional, or something that evolved naturally over time?

CD. It wasn’t intentional at all. It was just how we saw things.

From the beginning, we didn’t distinguish between art and fashion. If something was a strong image, we wanted it—whether it came from a student or an established photographer. It was very democratic in that sense.

That mix became part of Visionaire’s DNA. Established artists liked being alongside emerging voices, and younger creatives wanted proximity to their mentors. That dialogue was important.

Over time, people started to see Visionaire as this bridge between art and fashion, but for us, there was never a boundary to begin with. The categories didn’t really matter—the work did.

CNTRFLD. Was there a particular moment when you realised Visionaire had moved beyond a more intimate, downtown project into something with a much wider cultural reach?

CD. We never saw Visionaire as a downtown project, although others did. We felt international, even if we were not seen that way—yet.

At the time, we didn’t really see it—it’s only clear in hindsight.

But one key moment was our collaboration with Louis Vuitton. I sometimes call it our “crossover album.” It brought Visionaire into a different level of visibility and legitimacy.

We paired artists and designers in ways that felt unusual then—like asking photographers to work with a single designer’s full looks, which wasn’t how fashion operated at the time. One example was pairing Nan Goldin with Helmut Lang. It created something that existed simultaneously as art and fashion—intimate, raw, but still unmistakably fashion.

That project opened up a much broader audience, and it also showed what was possible when disciplines really intersect.

CNTRFLD. You’ve collaborated with so many artists across disciplines—what do you think makes a creative collaboration truly work?

CD. There has to be a genuine connection—something that makes sense beyond surface-level alignment.

I think in terms of “puzzle pieces.” I have themes, artists, formats, technologies—and every once in a while, something clicks and brings it all together. That’s when you know it’s the right collaboration.

Also, trust is crucial. The best collaborators—including major brands we worked with—gave us complete creative freedom. They didn’t need to control the outcome. Without that, the work wouldn’t have been as strong.

And we were very clear about protecting that. If a sponsor wanted to remove something creatively essential, we were willing to walk away. That integrity matters.

CNTRFLD. I’m also curious whether your background and identity shaped how you moved through those spaces, or how you approached building something like Visionaire.

CD. I don’t think I was consciously thinking about identity at the time—but I’ve always felt like an outsider.

Growing up half-Chinese in predominantly white environments, then working as one of very few Asian models—that sense of being outside was constant. And Visionaire itself was always positioned as an outsider too. Fashion saw us as art, art saw us as fashion—we never fully belonged anywhere.

Looking back, that outsider perspective is actually a strength. It allows me to operate differently, without being constrained by existing systems.

There are also things I only understand in hindsight—like how much the industry was dominated by white men, and how that shaped who was visible. At the time, I thought we were just working with “the best,” but of course that was influenced by the system itself.

Later on, I became more conscious about diversifying voices—but that awareness came over time.