18
Mar

Erotic art

   Posted by: admin   in Theory

Erotic art is art with a sexual content, which may be more or less overt. The presence of sexual content, however, is not sufficient for a work of art to be considered erotic. Although there is more than one sense in which a work can be said to be erotic, an erotic work of art must aim at and to some extent succeed in evoking sexual thoughts, feeling or desires in the spectator, in virtue of the nature of the sexual scene it represents and the manner in which it represents it. This aim, definitive of erotic art, may be a work’s principal aim, but need not be. Erotic art often tends to express the artist’s interest in and attitude towards sexuality; and whether or not it does, seeing it as expressing the artist’s sexuality is likely to contribute towards the spectator’s sexual arousal. An erotic work of art has an intended audience of a more or less specific kind, most frequently men. Erotic art is distinguished from pornography in at least two ways. First, pornography lacks any artistic intent. Second, its main aim is not only to stimulate the spectator sexually but to degrade, dominate and depersonalize its subject, usually women. This article is restricted in scope in at least two ways. First, it concerns exclusively the visual arts. Second, its focus is Western art, and primarily art from the Renaissance onwards.

1 Main questions

The chief philosophical questions in the aesthetics of erotic art are: (1) What is the distinction, within art, between erotic and non-erotic art, and how sharp are the boundaries of this category? (2) What are the ideological implications, if any, of the different forms and manners of erotic art, and what, in particular, is the distinction between erotic art and pornography? (3) How can erotic art in fact be art, or something properly eliciting an aesthetic response that is traditionally characterized as disinterested, when it is also aimed at provoking sexual desire, the very paradigm of an interested reaction? (4) In what ways might the criteria for assessing erotic art differ from those appropriate to other sorts of art, and how does the degree of eroticism of erotic art connect, if at all, to its value or worth as art? This entry will be devoted almost exclusively to (1) and (2).

2 The concept of erotic art

A good proportion of the work of many great visual artists – Rubens, Ingres, Delacroix, Degas, Rodin, Gauguin, Matisse, Magritte, Munch, Klimt, Picasso, Modigliani – is unquestionably erotic. But what is it, precisely, for art to be erotic? It seems that, at a minimum, it must have sexual content. Though sexual content may be either overt or covert, let us first consider art with overt sexual content. Typically, this takes the form of depictions of unclothed or semi-clothed human beings, alone or accompanied, at rest or performing actions of a sexual nature. Yet for art to be accounted erotic, it must do more than represent the naked human body or otherwise make reference to sexual matters: not all art concerned in some way with sexuality is automatically erotic. Anatomical sketches of genitalia, a realistic study of a gynaecologist’s examining room, or a modern comic strip featuring pneumatic bimbos, are not erotic, despite the sexual content they include. Rather, erotic art is art that treats its sexual content in a particular way or projects a certain attitude towards it. Erotic art is art aimed at arousing sexual interest, at evoking sexual thoughts, feelings or desires in viewers, in virtue of what it depicts and how it is depicted, and which achieves some measure of success in doing so. The intent to awaken and reward sexual interest through what is depicted can be taken as criterial of at least central cases of erotic art. The erotic work of art does more than refer to or acknowledge human sexuality; rather, it expresses an involved attitude towards it, whether of fascination, obsession or delectation, and in addition invites the viewer to engage their imagination along similar lines.

Erotic art typically aims not only to activate the viewer’s sexuality but to reflect that of the artist. That is to say, erotic works usually embody a perspective on what is depicted that suggests sexual interest on the maker’s part. Furthermore, the sense of sharing in what at least appears to have been sexually stimulating to the artist often plays a causal role in the viewer’s own stimulation. It is worth emphasizing that the sexual response occasioned by erotic art occurs largely on the plane of imagination, consisting primarily of thoughts, images and feelings, and rarely goes as far as full physiological arousal; the upshot of engagement with erotic art is imagined desire as often as it is real desire.

As suggested above, the term ‘erotic art’, in its primary usage, covers art that is aimed at stimulating sexual thoughts and feelings in its target audience, and which at least minimally succeeds. But this gives way to two secondary usages, according to which fulfilling either the intentional condition or the success condition (somewhat modified) independently qualifies a work as erotic. On the first such usage, a work counts as erotic if it is ostensibly aimed at stimulating sexual thoughts and feelings, even when it does not succeed in doing so; on the second, a work counts as erotic if it succeeds noticeably in stimulating viewers sexually, even when it is not intended or even apparently intended to do so. In addition, for works of art that are erotic in the central sense, it is natural to employ ‘erotic’ as a comparative term as well as a classificatory one. There are works one describes as mildly erotic and those one describes as highly erotic, depending on the degree of sexual involvement they tend to sustain.

Finally, perhaps some works of art reasonably accounted erotic neither aim at nor achieve viewer arousal (in other words, sexual thoughts, feelings or sensations directed towards what is depicted), but are instead erotic merely in virtue of the fact that they facilitate the imagining of erotic states of others, without erotic involvement as such on the viewer’s part – without the viewer identifying with or entering into those states, either in reality or in imagination.

3 Instrumentally erotic art and anti-erotic art

With some erotic art, the evocation of erotic feelings is a secondary aim, employed or manipulated by the artist in order to achieve some further end, such as wry humour (for example, Tom Wesslemann’s caricatures of pulchritude, in his ‘Great American Nudes’ series, or Mel Ramos’s exaggeratedly voluptuous pin-ups), social commentary (Degas’s monotypes of brothel scenes), or psychological disorientation (Magritte’s or Dali’s recombinant sexual imagery). We might label such art ‘instrumentally’ erotic art. As a result of these secondary aims, the excitatory tendency of such works may be weakened or even wholly neutralized. In some limiting cases works are in effect about erotic art – they comment on or satirically appropriate the conventions and mechanisms of normal erotic art – but without being erotic in the primary sense, that is, without being ultimately aimed at sexually engaging the viewer. Such art may be accounted erotic in virtue of the fact that it leads the viewer to question the presuppositions and consequences, social and otherwise, of erotic responses, without inviting or even permitting viewers to have such responses.

Some other cases of works representing sexual matters without appearing clearly erotic serve to illuminate further the boundaries of the category:

(1) Lysippus’ Aphrodite, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, or Cranach’s images of Eve occasion some hesitation if classified as erotic. Probably this is because we take the primary intent of the artist to have been to embody ideals of the human form, male and female, and not to prompt imaginative erotic engagement on the part of viewers of either sex. But this may be ingenuous; at any rate, such a line could not plausibly be extended to exclude from the erotic Donatello’s sensuous, almost coquettish David.

(2) Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon occasions hesitation of a different sort. Though the painting presents women who are not only nude but in fact prostitutes, they are depicted in a highly nonrealistic mode, which shortcircuits erotic involvement, as well as drawing attention primarily to the painting’s formal and expressive dimension.

(3) Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, an elaborate sculptural installation, uses female genital imagery in a celebratory though arguably not erotic way; its sexual content is of a sort that is purely symbolic, rather than sexually involving.

(4) Though displaying some of the hallmarks of erotic art, Lucian Freud’s paintings of naked subjects are not obviously erotic, being more evocative of the boucherie than the boudoir – an observation even truer of the images of nudes in Francis Bacon’s paintings. Philip Pearlstein’s superrealist figure paintings or, in another vein, Dubuffet’s quasi-paleolithic images of squashed and splayed humanity belong here as well.

These latter artists – Bacon, Freud, Pearlstein, Dubuffet – are not aptly described merely as non-erotic – as is, say, a Corot landscape or Chardin still life – but rather as anti-erotic. Thus in a broader sense they, unlike Chardin or Corot, are erotic after all, that is to say, concerned with sexuality in a way that reflects the sexual interests of the maker and engages those of the viewer, if not in a positive manner. De Kooning’s raw and primitivist images of women also come naturally to mind in this connection as well, though the case can be made that those images project a more ambivalent attitude to human sexuality than those of, say, Bacon – an admixture of terror, awe and admiration.

4 Covertly erotic art

It is relatively easy to give plausible examples of erotic works of art that contain no explicit depictions of sexuality or nakedness: Georgia O’Keeffe’s landscapes and still lifes, with their oblique evocation of female anatomy; Caravaggio’s paintings of Bacchus or St John the Baptist, with their coded references to homosexual experience; or Bernini’s marble of St Teresa in spiritual ecstasy, a state readily transposed by the viewer into its profane cousin. The criterion of covert sexual content, however, remains unclear. Depiction of objects recognized as sexually symbolic – umbrellas or fruit, for example – especially when juxtaposed with human subjects, may be a typical indication of such content, but can hardly serve as a general mark. According to some writers, virtually all art has covert sexual content in virtue of being the expression of unconscious wishes or fantasies of a sexual sort. Thus, for Wollheim (1987), Ingres’ history paintings, Bellotto’s landscapes with buildings, and Poussin’s landscapes with water are as substantially imbued with sexuality as Goya’s Naked Maja or Titian’s Venus of Urbino.

Even so, it seems that not all covertly sexual art is usefully considered erotic, but only that which is plausibly aimed, if unconsciously, at exciting sexual thoughts or feelings in target viewers, and which succeeds in doing so. In putative cases of covert sexual content, the arousal of the viewer of intended orientation and appropriate background may be just what signals the presence of such content and justifies its ascription.

5 The relationality of erotic art

If a painting is erotic, this is in virtue of its being aimed at and to some extent its eliciting an erotic response from a certain class of viewer – the work’s intended or target audience. Such classes may be delimited not only by the requirements of sensitivity and background knowledge but also by less acquirable ones of physiological make-up or sexual orientation. Thus, a painting may be erotic in virtue of its being designed to produce an erotic reaction in heterosexual males, elderly homosexual males, young heterosexual girls, homosexual women, or bisexuals of either sex. There is a fact of the matter, albeit a hazy one, about whether a given painting is erotic, but it is an inherently relational one, whose nature is only fully evident when the group targeted for response is identified. Indeed, according to Nochlin (1988), ‘ …. the very term “erotic art” is understood to imply the specification “erotic-for-men”.’ Still, once such implicit indexing has been made explicit, it may then be cancelled, so as to recognize art that is erotic relative to other target groups.

6 Social and political aspects of erotic art

Recent writers on erotic art stress the way in which entrenched genres and conventions of representation embody dominant ideas and assumptions about the nature of men and women and their proper relationship. Paintings such as Delacroix’s Death of Sardanapalus, Gerome’s Oriental Slave Market, Ingres’ The Turkish Bath or Jupiter and Thetis lend themselves readily to such analysis. For example, Nochlin (1988) speaks of ‘the power relations obtaining between men and women inscribed in visual representation’ as a focus of her investigations.

Equally frequently noted is the element of voyeurism in erotic art. It is said that the spectator is a voyeur (at least fictionally), and that the work of art often reinforces or echoes this by depicting a spectator who, together with the viewer, regards the erotic object. Furthermore, the implicit or explicit voyeurism of erotic art is sometimes held to reflect the necessary impotence of the artist in respect of the imaginary and thus unattainable individuals depicted within their art.

Finally, the relationship of erotic art and pornography has been much debated. They may be distinguished, arguably, in at least two ways. First, pornography has, perhaps by definition, no significant artistic aspect. That is to say, pornography makes no credible appeal to viewers to consider the mode and means of depiction, as opposed merely to what is depicted; pornography, unlike art of any kind, is wholly transparent in both aim and effect. Second, pornography has, as a central intent and characteristic result, not only the stimulation of sexual feelings or fantasies in viewers, but the degradation, domination and depersonalization of what it depicts, usually women. Courbet’s Sleep, which shows two beautiful nude women in the arms of Morpheus and each other, or Schiele’s 1917 Reclining Woman, which presents its subject provocatively spread-legged and scarlet-nippled, perhaps court dismissal as pornography by some of these criteria, but on reflection they remain at a safe distance from it. Though the images in question are starkly arousing, even exploitative, the technique of their construction, the style in which they are rendered, the preceding art history they encapsulate, and the entrée they afford into their makers’ psyches, are at least as absorbing as what they flatly represent, and conspire to redeem them as art.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 18th, 2010 at 1:10 pm and is filed under Theory. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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