I recently saw an art exhibit whose theme was women (and guns!) that included some nudes. It prompted me to think about the difference
between "erotic art" and "pornography." Where is the line that separates the two?
What I’m coming to realize in my latter-daze dotterage
is that lines do not exist. Whatever life, the
universe, and everything proves to be, it very much appears to be one seamless thing.
Everything is connected to everything else; there is no fixed line dividing anything,
much less one that neatly divides the so-called artistic from the so-called obscene.
I suppose I should say right upfront that when I’m reasonably sane I do not
find sex obscene at all; I find it beautiful.
What I noticed in the exhibition was, with a couple of exceptions, a conspicuous timidity about
sex. There was, for me, an overall coldness in the works that I soon realized was due to the
absence of all sexual heat or passion. I invite the reader to Google “erotic
art” (images) to see what I mean.
And then it hit me! Any artistic rendering
of sexuality that conveys passion to the point of sexually stirring the viewer
is deemed pornographic—and must be avoided like the plague. Throughout my life
I’ve been aware that this screwed-up world of ours largely holds sex as something
dirty, or shameful, or in need of concealment. We must not talk about sex in polite company,
we must behave as though we don’t have genitalia, etc. Incredibly, I'd never
realized that even sexual arousal itself was taboo! In any case, I checked my New Oxford American Dictionary and found
this:
pornography (noun):
printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of
sexual organs or activity, intended to
stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings. [My italics]
It very much appears that Puritanical
bullshit about sex remains not only alive and well among the general public but
has infected and inhibited the avant-garde as well. Many artists are apparently
so fearful of having their work labeled “pornographic” that they bend over
backwards to make certain that nothing which could possibly arouse the viewer remains. From the same dictionary:
art (noun): the expression or
application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form
such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.
[My italics]
“Aesthetic” (in the pornography definition) and
“beauty” (in the art definition) is used to delineate the wheat of art from the
chaff of pornography. Say what? I suppose there are some people who find the
sex act devoid of aesthetic beauty; I am not one of them.
“Emotional
feelings” and “emotional power” are used in both definitions to distinguish “art”
from “porn.” But is not sexual arousal an emotion? It is for me! And, if it is, why should this particular emotion be denied a seat
at the gallery table? Why is any other emotion—anger and repugnance at a
crucifix immersed in a jar of piss, say—fiercely defended as a legitimate artistic
expression, while the emotion of being turned on by a depiction of sex is condemned
as sleazy pandering to lust, as filth, as lacking in importance?
“Don’t
do that! It’s a very important work of art!” said the home invasion victim to
Alex in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange.
Remember the piece? It was a white porcelain-like sculpture of a penis (not
erect) and balls. The point I’m trying to make is that the object was as cold
and devoid of sexuality as one could imagine. Alex wielded the thing as a weapon and fatally bludgeoned his
victim with it.
For
me, standard pornography’s greatest shortcoming is its failure to communicate
the beauty and honesty and fun of the sexual experience. Are the participants really
enjoying themselves or are they faking pleasure? Do they really feel beautiful or are
they acting beautiful? Is the artist—painter, photographer, filmmaker,
sculptor, etc.—sufficiently gifted to capture and convey that beauty and
honesty?
Erotic
art—including graphic depictions of human sexuality—would be included in
any gallery, were it not for our mass lunacy about sex.
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