"Can Beauty Ever be Considered a Moral Trait?" Part Two: Naturalism and Repose

Introduction

Perceptions of the female body begin to change from the 15th century through to the 20th century; there is a greater emphasis on naturalistic representations, propositions and poses. From Giorgione to Rubens to Renoir, the female body takes a distinct turn away from the previously aesthetically contorted forms. Bodies have natural more diverse shapes and are more comfortably posed in this period. Neither mathematics nor morality dictates the form of the female nude during this time.

That is not to say, however, that feminine subjectivity has broken free of its constraints; the gaze of the artist and the connoisseur is still the male gaze, but there is, nevertheless, growing diversity in the representation of the female body. The growing diversity of representation of the female form over this period represents a diversity of taste. The weakened strictures of style open up a space for reflection and reform with regard to feminine subjectivity, in particular towards the end of this period in the 19th century when the first wave of feminism hits.

 Venus Awakens: The Nude in Repose

The reclining nude is a special feature of this period; prior to the 15th century the reclining nude - the nude in repose - is almost non-existent. This represents an important shift in the recognition of feminine subjectivity and the values that emerge from its increasing presence. Two of the earliest, and most famous, reclining nudes belong to Giorgione and Titian, both "Old Masters." There is some controversy about Giorgione's Sleeping Venus (it was completed posthumously by Titian), but this does not concern us here. For my tastes, Sleeping Venus is the best example of the reclining nude discussed here.

Venus lies outside, totally disrobed, and on the verge of sleep; she is at rest in a rural scene. Her relaxed demeanour blends well with the relaxed rural setting (a "sleepy" village); her white skin, however, contrasts with the earthy colours of the fields and the village. Her repose fits into the scene by standing out, so to speak. She is relaxed, the scene is relaxed (I say "sleepy" because there's not another soul around); yet her figure dominates in the foreground, everything else is blurred by the whiteness of her skin.

Her hand rests discretely on her pudendum, concealing her genitals; her breasts, however, are unashamedly bare. The use of the hand to conceal the genitals is a common theme for the reclining nude (as we will see). It can be argued that this motif represents a sense of modesty (arguably, imposed), or an enduring discomfort with female sexuality, perhaps both. Either way, it represents an "aesthetic seal" that encloses the feminine form. The vagina is a confusing mess to the gender whose genitals sit (somewhat) neatly outside the viscera.

The hand replaces the "fig leaf" in the functional role of the aesthetic seal from older represents (see the previous post in this thread), but it perpetuates the discomfort the male gaze has for female sexuality; or, rather, the functional dimensions of female sexuality. It has always been acceptable for the breasts to be exposed, but not the vagina. Although, the vulva and labia is obscured by neither hand nor fig leaf on the Venus of Willendorf. Her breasts are far more prominent, but she shows no shame or modesty about her sexual organs at all (she does, however, lack arms and a discernible face, which I've discussed in the previous post).

Titian's Venus of Urbino differs in certain significant aspects to Giorgione's. The aesthetic seal remains in place, but Venus is awake, and therefore not passive; moreover, she gazes back at the (presumably male) gazer.

Her belly is a little plump, but not distended; her breasts are small, but proportional. Her gaze, while directed at the viewer, is not intimidating. Her head is tilted in a bashful/flirtatious mode, engaging but not intimidating. It is, perhaps, the "ideal" female gaze, at least from the perspective of the male: her gaze is inviting, yet she remains "modest" with the appropriately placed hand. What is important, however, is that gaze meets gaze, even though it is the inviting female gaze meeting the (unrepresented, and therefore omnipotent) male gaze.

In Manet's Olympia, the gaze is different again, although the pose remains the same. Olympia's skin is far paler than the Venus of either Giorgione or Titian, her hand more firmly planted on her thigh, concealing her pudendum. Her body is more rigid, and her gaze less inviting. It is more obvious that Olympia is posing. Her engagement with the gaze with of the viewer is more forceful, or confrontational.

Not only is her pose more rigid, her body is leaner, more taut than the Venuses; her stomach is flatter, and her shoulders appear broader. She is also not as reclined as the other Venuses. Her pale white skin and lean physique, along with the presence of the African servant indicate a manicured lifestyle. It is also generally accepted that Olympia is a prostitute, based the symbolism in the painting (the orchid in her hair, for instance).

In terms of feminine subjectivity, there is mixed symbolism. The emergence of the reclining nude indicates a "relaxation" of sentiment toward female sexuality, but the prevalence of the hand, in place of the fig leaf, as the enforcing symbol of the aesthetic seal, implies an enduring discomfort with feminine sexuality. However, from Giorgione's Venus, to Titian's, to Manet's we can see a strengthening of the female gaze in response to the male viewer's gaze. The aesthetic seal remains, but the opening of the eyes - from sleep, to seduction, to confrontation, perhaps even daring - the returning of the gaze, is indicative of emerging feminine subjectivity.

Bathing Beauties: Naturalism and the Female Forms

 The reclining nude represents a growing acceptance of the female body; the viewer, the artist, and the connoisseur, however, remain almost exclusively male. Nevertheless, the gradual opening of the eyes of Venus is important in the evolution of the values that surround our aesthetic tastes. Manet's Olympia, in fact, was quite controversial, in part because of the confidence exhibited by the nude female subject, enforced particularly by her gaze.

A parallel tradition during the period under focus here, is the emphasis on more naturalistic bodies. Rubens and Pierre-Auguste Renoir are excellent examples here. The term "Rubenesque" has come to denote a shapely or plump female physique. Rubenesque has positive connotations, as such. Rubens is renowned for his depictions of voluptuous, naturalistic women. Take, for example, The Three Graces. The women in this painting display a shapeliness that is absent from previous works; none of the Venuses have bodies like these. The larger posteriors and slight puckering are more realistic than, say Olympia's manicured body, although the Graces do retain fair skin of Venuses.

There is no ideal proportion to the bodies of the Graces, but this is what makes their bodies more natural; very few women have the classical proportions of the Athena of Knidos. Their bodies, however, are not purposely distended in the way of the Gothic nude. There is a great sense of ease or comfort in the subjects of the painting; the woman are unashamedly naked, ostensibly conversing, there is also considerable physical contact between the three women.

Importantly, there is no obvious attempt to obscure the vulva; "obvious," that is, in terms of a clear symbolic "aesthetic seal." There is no fig leaf, and the hands of the women are occupied in contact with arms and shoulders of each other. While there is no clear sign of the labia majora, as in the Venus of Willendorf. the mons pubis, at least of the Grace on the left, is not totally obscured. The woman are comfortable in the nudity, and the gaze of the male is less uncomfortable with seeing it; there is no expectation of mathematics or morality in the scene.

Rubens' Angelica and the Hermit, presents a voluptuous nude in repose, with a beseeching male - the hermit - at her side. Angelica is voluptuous and looking rather comfortable. To be sure, she is still the object of the male gaze, the viewers' and the hermit's. Her voluptuous form is in stark contrast to the bodies of the Venuses, and especially Olympia. Her skin, however, remains white, in stark contrast to the dark, earthy colours that surround her.

The aesthetic seal also remains. A sliver of drapery conceals Angelica's vulva; the Hermit, however, appears to be slowly pulling it away. Angelica is asleep, and appears to be neither consenting nor resisting the act of the Hermit. There is certainly something symbolic about the scene: a clothed male, eyes wide-open, slowly unveiling the naked body of a female, eyes closed and unresponsive, neither inviting nor rejecting the actions of the male. His gaze is neither aggressive, nor "sleazy"; perhaps a symbol of (wishful) self-reflection on the part of the true audience: the male connoisseur. Angelica is unconscious, and any desire she has is equally unconscious - hence innocent, at least insofar as connoisseur is concerned. The imploring look of the hermit is somewhat belied by the actions of his hands, and this dichotomy, against the background of the unconscious sexuality of Angelica, is arguably emblematic of the way the male connoisseur interprets his own gaze.

Before moving on, I must confess: Pierre-Auguste Renoir is perhaps my favourite artist. As fond as I am of Titian and Rubens, Renoir outstrips them both in my opinion. With this intrusion of disclosure complete, we can quickly move on. Renoir's bathers are exquisite, capturing the sense of voluptuous naturalism that is often characterized by the term "Rubenesque." The Large Bathers is a scene of women with women, being women. There is a sense of voyeurism in this painting, and many of Renoir's other bathing scenes; having said that, however, this voyeurism offers an insight into the feminine subject that is otherwise denied in most previous representations.

These women, while obviously posed for the purposes of representation, are not constrained by their pose; they are conversing while they engage in their ablutions. There is a relaxed demeanour about the women. The dark-haired woman, leaning back on one hand, the other held up, one leg partially raised, a supple contortion in her body accentuated by the folds of skin on her flank beneath her right breast. This is not the usual nude in repose, although her vulva and vagina are still obscured; the problem of her awkward pose and what it might otherwise reveal is unsubtly solved by the dress draped between her thighs. Her bolder companion, arguably the focal point of the scene, is unabashed in revealing her breasts in the act of toweling herself off, implying that there are no men about, that this is purely a woman's space. The third companion reveals only her back and buttocks as she is still in the act of bathing, or is simply reveling in the water; she does not seem too urgent to act, as her right hand spoons the water, perhaps absentmindedly while she enjoys the conversation.

The scene is filled with dynamic action, women in different stages of bathing; women, amongst other women at least, are not static forms. While certain hallmarks of the male gaze and the aesthetic seal remain, scenes such as these, and there are others of equal quality, open a window onto the subjectivity of women. There is a sense of joy in the naked conversation, with three different personalities on display.

The women here are not merely naked or nude, but socially nude; the male gaze is ostensibly invited into a private scene, as a voyeur, but is subverted by the distance established by the fact the women are not gazing back; their gaze is not seductive; their gaze is not stern; their gaze is not passive. Their gaze is simply not returned to the voyeur. Their gaze belongs to each other, dynamically in social intercourse. While the male gaze is still privileged, it is passive; the male viewer is merely an observer.

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In the next blog, I will move in the 20th century, and in particular the advent of photography. Photography has changed the way we view and represent the human body, the female body especially. Verisimilitude is now not only possible but instantaneous; ultimately photography will proliferate in the 20th century. The photograph, and eventually the Internet, will change the relationship between female body and the viewers' (still mostly male) gaze. While the photograph allowed for greater flexibility in the representation of the female body, as well as empowering women in viewing and disseminating their own images, it also has a darker side. This darker side will come into greater focus with the Internet, but this will be the topic of a subsequent blog. 

Free Speech and Self-Criticism

There's a difference between self-censorship and self-criticism, but a very fine one; indeed, the distinction vanishes if you don't know how to engage in the latter. Freedom of speech--or simply "freedom!"--is the focus of public debate in the last few days.

Some have argued that, in light of the Charlie Hebdo assassinations, the Racial Discrimination Act s18C should be utterly repealed, baldly stating that Charlie Hebdo could not be published in this country under its aegis.

Doubly wrong.

First, such a publication would be exempt under s18D as an artistic enterprise; second, Islam is not a race, so the RDA does not, in fact, apply. Such arguments are manipulative and self-serving.

Freedom of speech really only benefits those with access to the media (as in, the plural of medium, the means by which messages and information are conveyed). Not all media are equal. A blog on the internet read by dozens, maybe hundreds, is not a medium on par with, say, a newspaper or a television station (what we usually think of when we read the word media).

And arguments that "the new media" will supplant the old ignores the fact that a blogger just starting out does not have the same level of capital as a media mogul, who can transform his or her business model, however incrementally, in the new age of e-commerce. Money is still the medium of the age.

I do not support any change to s18C, not because it promotes censorship, self- or otherwise, but because it is one of the few, rather brittle planks promoting self-criticism. We need self-criticism in a world where any opinion can and is offered, quite unsolicited, on the Internet, a medium both liberating and tyrannising at once.

Self-criticism is not about second guessing yourself, but about adopting a posture towards your own ideas in a way a literary or social critic might towards his or her subject. Indeed, we are all critics--albeit critics of society and everything that crosses our path but that isn't actually us.

We can't be immune from critique, and the sooner we adopt ourselves as our primary subject, the sharper our perception will be, and the more insightful our opinions become.

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Speech exists in a finite space; and although it is the cornerstone of a free democratic society, it is not all-pervasive in our private or--importantly--our public lives.

We must consider the economics of public discourse, where policy and institutional choices are formulated, in order to fully grasp the role of free speech.

Charlie Hebdo is a form of satire, offering humorous and provocative critiques of various aspects of the culture and society. One may question its tastefulness, and even how much it is actually satire, but in the Australian context it would be exempt as an artistic enterprise, so for all intents and purposes satire it is.

But Charlie Hebdo does not partake in that part of the public discourse relating to policy or institutional (governmental) choices. At best, it shines a light on something, mocking it, drawing attention to it (and to itself), establishing this or that subject of ridicule as a legitimate target for critique.

What satire does, to put it simplistically, is to erode the barriers that prevent certain things being discussed at all. Sadly, in the aftermath of the recent tragedy, they have achieved something close to their goal, with many news outlets emboldened to publish the forthcoming and very poignant front page of the latest issue (see below).

So, while satire rightly razes sacred idols, reducing them to the sediment of democratic argument, satire is not a part of the decision-making process at an institutional level. Almost always, it is on the outside looking in, a viral messenger of modern democracy.

Self-criticism is the necessary precursor of decision-making, and our decision-makers, our politicians, should be expert self-critics. (Perhaps I should leave you to giggle at this point.)

Here in Australia we can think of many politicians who lack, not so much an internal censor as an internal critic. It is one thing to have an opinion, but it is a higher order function to display reasoned judgement in one's policy offerings, which so many Australian senators ("elders," etymologically) seem to have trouble with.

Self-criticism ought to lead to wisdom, but really it starts with adhering to the adage "think before you speak." The internet rarely promotes thoughtfulness, and that is to the detriment of our public discourse.

It is detrimental because we have only a finite space for public discourse--discourse, quite separate from satire and other forms of expression, in which policy is propounded, decisions made.

Quite simply, we cannot deal with or act upon every issue or special interest. We are, in our capacity as advocates for our causes, competing for attention and resources, and were we to attempt to address all such causes in accordance with their merit (as presumed by their advocates) we would have no time for anything else.

Discourse, conceived as a portioning of time and space for public matters, is a finite resource; our attention spans are limited, as is our capacity and our goodwill for dealing with each other's shit.

The preciousness of this resource should not be underestimated. It has its own economy, which many seek to game or corrupt to their own ends. It is not a resource without structure. And its structure is, by and large, arbitrary, subject to the same analytics and arguments that take place within its space.

(In other words, public discourse and its economy is itself always a valid subject of debate. The height of free speech, I would argue, is the right to argue about what is and is not covered by free speech in the public discourse, for without this very meta-democratic right democracy cannot exist.)

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Opponents of s18C, and the RDA more broadly, are well within their rights to call for its repeal--but their argument cannot reside on absolute grounds, for there are none in what is at bottom a self-referential exercise: we are arguing about the rules we want to apply to ourselves; the only absolute is that we will continue arguing amongst and about ourselves.

The need for structure in the public discourse, however, is persistent, for without it there is only violence as a means of settling issues. We must eschew violence totally; it allows for nothing but itself, in public or in private life.

Freedom of speech, then, must exist within a scaffold of public discourse, and self-criticism is a necessary precursor to it. s18C is a plank in that scaffold that promotes self-criticism. It is not onerous, unless your aims are disingenuous. At the very least, if your aim is disingenuous, it should give you pause for thought, an opportunity to reflect on your opinion and to understand its consequences, to think before you speak.

Without this scaffold, those who already have privileged access to various media (again, plural for medium), assert their own structure on the public discourse. And that, ultimately, is the point of the attack on the Racial Discrimination Act.

In a democracy, we are forever in a battle over institutional structures, looking for any advantage, and where possible to entrench it in those structures, shaping society for the next generation. We are, perhaps frustratingly, engaged in an open-ended and society-wide experiment in self-criticism.

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Charlie Hebdo: