Figure 1

Figure 2, Imogen Cunningham, ‘Untitled’ from On the Body

Figure 3, Imogen Cunningham, ‘Untitled’ from On the Body

Figure 5, Jo Spence & Terry Dennett, ‘Self as Image’ from Remodelling Photo-History

Figure 6, Giovanni Bellini, ‘The Madonna and the Child’

Figure 7, David Lynch, ‘Untitled’ from Digital Nudes

Throughout art history there have been various portrayals of female bodies to dictate certain aspects of femininity, but in particular, female sexuality. The renaissance was an awakening in this area, with the renowned paintings The Birth of Venus by Botticelli (cr. 1484-1486) and Venus of Urbino-- or Reclining Venus--by Titian (cr. 1532-1534) popularising the female nude. Despite the harsh views on feminine sexuality during this time period, there was an interest in seeing it visualised. This interest continued to gain popularity and has since become practice to many contemporary artists, male and female. In the early stages of photography, many photographers would find nude subjects in prostitutes and the resulting images would be sold to artists as model images for their own practices. The use of prostitutes, a shamed population, furthered the stigmatisation in day-to-day life. Because of this emergence, the term ‘pornography’ was created in 1842, an early example is shown in Figure 1 and will later be explained in Part I, and then defined as ‘the depiction of erotic behaviour (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement’, however minute changes to the definition are as follows: ‘material (such as books or a photograph) that depicts erotic behaviour and is intended to cause sexual excitement’ (Merriam-Webster, n.d.). Although the use of the word erotic is correct in these examples of the definition, it gives an idea of the meaning that can be misleading. Erotic can be defined as ‘of, devoted to, or tending to arouse sexual love or desire’ or ‘strongly marked or affected by sexual desire’ (Merriam-Webster, n.d.). The differences between these two examples are slight but important, with the first including the word ‘love’ which is key in most ideas of the erotic. Within the scope of erotic photography falls the previously mentioned male and female artist. There is a stark difference between these two ‘sub-genres’ of the work, but both beg the question how has the feminine been affected by nude photography and is there the capacity to see these images as neutral as male nude photography is? Through photographers such as David Lynch and Imogen Cunningham, and writers such as Audre Lorde and Anthony Julius, this document will attempt to shed some of the confusion and highlight areas of contemporary photography that have been able to expand many of the previously shallow interpretations of the ideas surrounding eroticism, and perhaps how its ‘counterpart’ became closely related. In two parts, an exploration of the erotic, the pornographic, and works that blur the line between the two, will hope to visualise the aspects of the female experience in photography.  

Part I: Exploring Eroticism in Relation to Audre Lorde’s The Uses of the Erotic 

    The idea of the erotic can be traced back to the 17th century which makes the original meaning and use of the word difficult to realise. What is most striking is the contemporary uses and explorations of the meaning vary drastically from the Merriam-Webster definition mentioned in the introduction to Audre Lorde’s explanation and expansion of the word’s impact. Lorde’s explanation and furthered thoughts on the erotic’s successor are as follows:

When I speak of the erotic, then, I speak of it as an assertion of the lifeforce of women; of that creative energy empowered, the knowledge and use of which we are now reclaiming in our language, our history, our dancing, our loving, our work, our lives… We have often turned away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic. But pornography is a direct denial of the power of the erotic, for it represents the suppression of true feeling. Pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling (Lorde, 2018, pp. 7-9).

 In many artists’ works we see something like what is being articulated. Lorde’s explanation speaks to the lack of sexuality necessitated to eroticism and more so of what could be described as “the interaction”. This interaction could more easily be akin to common practices which feed something that is innately contained in everyone. As stated, it could be dancing, quality time, or hobbies. Of course, sexual intercourse would fall into that genre but is not central in its morality, however this is how the idea is commonly shown through a photographic lens. The idea that erotic works should hold some symbol of power and love is heavily contrasted with pornography that is commonly qualified in the same genre of work. There is a clear line historically where the two get intertwined and that is with the invention of the photograph. Connecting back to the introduction, the first view of potential pornography was through writing and photographs containing nude models that were prostitutes by trade. They were veiled by licencing the images as professional models for paintings. Shown in Figure 1, the poses used in these photographs mirrored poses that were common in great paintings of the time, which made the images easily disguised as models for those painters and wouldn’t be seen in a profane light. As time went on, the true nature and purpose of the images was discovered, thus damaging the reputation of nude photography. (Hermand-Grisel, 2019). Regularly articulated in modern media is the obscenity of pornography, yet the extremities within the content have skyrocketed since the height of Playboy and the expanded sexual norms. Original pornographic films were based in much more heteronormative sexual activities, depicting a healthier aspect of sex to those that would have been able to access the media. However, this was a “one size fits all” view of sex and had little to do with female gratification.

In contrast, the continuation of this practice has shed certain views around the body in the last hundred years and persists to change the ways that we see the body. The over stigmatization was slowly overturned in the 1930’s-1950’s with more photographers choosing to visualise the body in a way that was conspicuous and challenging to the era’s still prudish stance. Not soon after, writings on the male gaze and femininity began to emerge questioning where the sexualization came from. It wasn’t a new concept that men were holding women back politically and in the way of art; with the publication of Laura Mulvey’s Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema in 1975, the diction of the subject changed, and the world had the ability to understand the plight of their sisters in cinema but, more so, additionally in every wave of artistic media works. In this version of the erotic, it has little to do with the sexual aspect of an interaction, and more to do with the subsequent feelings of the interaction. Further, the question of whether the erotic can be visualized and immolated within artistic works is prevalent when discussing the productions of erotic images.

In Imogen Cunningham’s On the Body, the images of American dancer and choreographer Martha Graham, shown in Figures 2-4, are a good representation of that presence. Despite the images having that sexual edge, the preceding event leading to the making of them is left to the viewer to imagine. In Figure 3, the firm touch of Graham’s self speaks to Lorde’s idea of ‘sensation without feeling’ as an aspect of pornography and clearly visualises the presence of contrary elements with the parting of the woman’s lips, in conjunction with the touch, aiding to create the awareness of the sensation.  This is echoed in Figure 4’s double exposure working to create the movement of time within one image and therefore taking the viewer into the moment with the subject. Where this photograph differs from the previous is the brazen sexuality within it that starts to blur the line between the erotic and the pornographic. The furthered performative aspect of the image adds to that pornographic feeling, however there is a power within this image that hints at a retrieval of authority within the subject’s sexuality therefore taking back elements of womanhood that would’ve been previously stripped. In the introduction to the Cunningham’s book, writer Richard Lorenz explains the basis of her work, saying, ‘Over the ages [the body] has been an object of glorification, admiration, secretive camouflage, and censoring morality. When Imogen Cunningham began to photograph the nude body in the early 1900’s, America was just in effect at art schools which dictated that female nude models wear masks to preserve their reputations from scandal’ (Cunningham and Lorenz, 1998, pp. 7). This mirrors the views on women during the era preceding, with the objective outcome of the body reflecting poorly on the population of women within the images. Cunningham chose to show every aspect of her subject, purposefully going against the expectations she experienced whilst studying in a university setting. This differs to the regular art university experience now, with more and more nudity being prevalent in new contemporary artists which continues the desensitisation towards the body. Viewing these as a narrative on the idea of eroticism, an assumption can be made on the artist’s opinion of feminine sexual liberation. Clearly displaying Graham’s face can be seen in unison with the liberation cause, both the artist and the subject snubbing the public’s want to see a naked woman as a sex symbol. To reiterate, rather than viewing Graham as a sexual object within the images, Cunningham decided to revoke the ability to do so by exchanging that notion of the consumer’s gratification (as would be done in porn) with the self-loving erotic. This was a radical decision at the time and caused many questions to erupt about the purpose behind the images. Despite the backlash to the images, the artist had little to say on the subject. Although a portion of Cunningham’s work has little to do with what would widely be considered feminist art, her indifference to her proposed “offences” ratified contemporary feminist works and propelled the trajectory of succeeding artists immensely. Importantly, this is only a fragment of the work being made during this era and exploring her contemporaries, such as Dorothea Lange, Margaret Bourke-White, and Judy Dater to get a full comprehension of the work produced by female photographers during the generation.

 Part II: Reimagining the Obscene with Anthony Julius’s Transgressions: The Offences of Art 

         ‘Transgressions, or “useless expenditures”, include art, sacrifices, and eroticism… Death is the sign of violence, sexuality likewise’, states Anthony Julius when discussing the pleasures that have been deemed mortal sins in his book Transgressions: The Offences of Art (Julius, 2003, pp.23). After the harsh realities that were addressed by Cunningham in the previous part, Julius presents a wider ideology surrounding the issues that continue to plague the art community, with a key role being given to religion. Religion’s role in the appreciation and success of art transcends many other factors. Society and culture are also essential when thinking of any method to the consumption of an artistic work, however there is a certainty that religion is pivotal in both of those external proponents. Culturally, this can be traced all the way back to the Virgin Mary- chastity being an indispensable rule for both men and women, with women being more harshly scrutinized and punished for the act, as is outlined in Lucia Zednar’s Women, Crime and Penal Response: A Historical Account.  However, in recent years, it has been cited by various mental health organizations that the two things that every human would require sexual intercourse to some degree to maintain an adequate level of hormone levels (Creaky Joints Mental Health, 2015).

In reference contemporary photography, we can see remnants of the historic ideology lingering in the concepts behind many famous images. In 1982, male and female artists Terry Dennett and Jo Spence released images that challenged this exact thought. In Figures 5 and 6, the Madonna Litta and “Self as Image” from Remodelling Photo-History are shown to articulate the lengths in which artists are willing to go to when confronting these aspects of the historic archive. ‘In the case of women artists, performance becomes charged with an added sexual tension. For the female performance artist is always acting under the weight of her historical status as an art object’ (Battista, 2013, pp.54). The exploration of the female body is currency within feminist art and compounding the weight of being a powerful feminist and an artist making transgressive works can be problematic when taking the works to the public. In the journal published alongside Dennett and Spence’s work they cite the hesitation and precarious position that could be the aftermath to the publication. However, this did not deter either of the artists, Spence particularly and perhaps more importantly, from forging ahead (Dennett and Spence, 1982). What worked in their favour was the stylistic aspect of the work, taking away much of the apprehension that went into the production process. This body of work was vital when considering the factors of its making. Spence, a 48-year-old woman at the time with obvious signs of ageing, was on a ticking time clock when it came to doing “beautiful” self-portraits. This concept is still something we are seeing now, with women’s value dramatically decreasing in most professions when she reaches a certain age (around 40), however in recent years it’s been juxtaposed by the older man seeming more attractive. This divide between the genders is addressed in the remake of “The Madonna and the Child” with a tremendous visualization with the post-adolescent man becoming synonymous with the child. Additionally, Spence’s reputation was most at risk for the graphic nature of the images. The critiques that would come from the body of work were little when comparing the risks that were taken physically and, more controversially, socially.

Addressing religious figures in a sexual context is a delicate matter to take into careful consideration, especially if the artist is female. This is addressed concisely by Julius, stating, ‘Because certain forms of sexuality are expressly prescribed in the Scriptures; because sexual experience itself occupies the extreme terrain of momentary pleasures; because there is an underground literary tradition of the erotic that attracts hostility of the state; because a certain kind of sexual liberation is the principal way in which the modern age defines itself against the preceding age’ (Julius, 2003, pp.22). It is a simple explanation of the oppressive nature of the former and current stature towards women, or anyone that is seen to be explicitly sexual in one way or another. The strange aspect of that expectation is the realization that much of the modern population would be considered extremely sexual, if not seen as a world of transgressors, by the standards of the Scriptures. The preservation of these values is shockingly hypocritical if held at the same merit to our predecessors, who did not live by these ethics as fully as the hierarchy wanted society to. Considering the hypocrisy of that era, which has permeated its way through today’s society, the assumption of the nude affecting the woman negatively can be made.

         Contrasted with the images included in earlier sections, David Lynch’s Digital Nudes set out to document the female figure in a “surreal and sensual to create new, nearly uncanny interpretations of the female figure”. Some of the images live up to this published description, however, despite the beautiful images included in Lynch’s book, there is not a strong sense of defining the feminine in a realistic representation. Figure 7 is reminiscent of the famous Mary and Babe (1982) image by Philip-Lorca DiCorcia, while Figure 8 has elements to the traditional view on the sensual woman with the red lip and the high angle of the camera working to create the submissive. These photographs represent Julius’ idea of “momentary pleasures” and represents a regression within the modernized idea of the woman. Published in 2021, Digital Nudes can be seen as a detrimental work to the nude woman in art with the many subtly evolved elements and expectations of the 1950’s-1970’s woman being present within Lynch’s images. Whether these images would be considered erotic or pornographic in line with the standards before mentioned is an interesting aspect of the nature of them. Lynch puts forward great effort to blur the lines between the two, with hints of a more sensual pornographic. These concepts are testing of those expressed in Julius’ text and to the religious expectations put onto the feminine sexuality, however the budding consequences on the modern feminist art movement outweigh any transgressive behaviour that could inspire these images.

Conclusion

         In the preceding two parts, an exploration of the erotic and the pornographic through the scope of contemporary photographers has opened a dialogue into the hidden meanings behind photographs that would fall into the two subgenres. The main proponent of those two visualisations is sensuality as shown by acclaimed artists David Lynch, Imogen Cunningham, and Jo Spence. Aided by writings by Audre Lorde, Anthony Julius, and Kathy Battista, these artists’ works have propelled the idea of the erotic through many different forms and interpretations.

         The questions remain, how has the feminine been affected by nude photography and is there the capacity to see these images as neutral as male nude photography is? The most important implication of the female nude is the hyper sexualization and colonisation of the female body and the overarching theme of the feminine. Negating these two landmark ideologies at the backbone of the feminist art movement is reckless and, frankly, moot when dissecting the origins of the genre. To the point of feminist works, the broad aesthetic purposes and techniques vary from artist to artist. ‘Although much of feminist work contains similar themes- domesticity, the body and its traces, sexuality- feminist art has no stylistic representation’ (Battista, 2013, pp.4). With these common threads between the works, it’s difficult to imagine an equality to that of the male nude. The possibility of the female nude becoming as objective as a male nude is interesting when there are countless examples of trial and failure. Even with a fully objective view of the female body, there is still that innate thought that it is something to hide. Culturally we are edging slowly that way, but the likelihood seems small.

         In modern practices, both the erotic and the pornographic could be explored in a much different context and that is as mutually exclusive concepts. This should lead to a clearer way of viewing and processing the images as a consumer, which would then usher the cultural understanding of what would be more accurately noted as sensual photographic practices.

Bibliography

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Dennett, T. and Spence, J., 1982. Remodelling Photo-History. Screen, 23(1), pp.85-97.

Hermand-Grisel, S., 2019. A brief history of nude photography (1839-1939). [online] All-about-photo.com. Available at: <https://www.all-about-photo.com/photo-articles/photo-article/607/a-brief-history-of-nude-photography-1839-1939> [Accessed 12 March 2022].

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Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Erotic. In Merriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved March 6, 2022, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/erotic

Zedner, L., 1991. Women, Crime, and Penal Responses: A Historical Account. Crime and Justice, 14.