Showing posts with label pornography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pornography. Show all posts

21 October 2020

EDGING ON PORNOGRAPHY: NUDE DAGUERREOTYPES IN THE GETTY COLLECTION


Object of the Week | Caitlin McCurdy


Rear of a Daguerreotype advertising portraits and lessons. Source

With the advent of any new artistic technology, from the earliest, crudest sculptures of early mankind, to painting or photography, one of the first things to be depicted seems to be the nude form of women. The ancient Greeks did it, 15th century painters like Sandro Botticelli did it, and with the advent of Daguerreotypes by Francois Daguerre in 1839, a technology was made available that allowed a larger audience to produce and distribute highly sophisticated reproductions of the female form. Each Daguerreotype was a unique image on a silvered copper plate, and portrait studios quickly became commercial enterprises. This inflation of the portrait market allowed a second market to develop for portraits of a more scandalous nature.

This week’s Object of the Week is a collection of nude Daguerreotypes from the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles. The museum has over 2000 Daguerreotypes, but the female nudes reveal a history of Paris’ 19th century porn market, and where lines were being delineated between artistic representation and pornography. In researching for this article, I found that often Daguerreotypes were being defined between this line of what 19th century morality would allow and what it deemed too vulgar for the masses.


Example of a more demure nude. Source

Daguerreotypes did not render the colour of the subjects they captured, so many were coloured by hand. The vast majority of Daguerreotype studio owners were men, so all examples of nudes in this article were taken by men. The first daguerreotype highlighted in this article, seen above, depicts a woman in a transparent gown, standing against a mirror. Her hands, up in her hair braiding, conceal her breasts from view. This photo suggests a spontaneous glimpse into a private moment, a teasing of nudity rather than the more provocative examples to come.

The next example is described in the Getty collection as a study of a woman resting on a divan in profile. This appears to be the generally accepted “artist’s study” of female nudity, rather than outright pornography. Her pose mimics the stance of ancient marble statues, the nude of a different era.


An "Artist's Study". Source

The images tend to begin being described as pornographic when there is more than one subject in the frame. The following, titled Two Women Embracing is described as “posturing teetered between artist’s study and pornography”. The poses appear to be more for the pleasure of the observer, positioned to be revealed to the camera. It feels voyeuristic, looking in at an intimate spontaneous moment between lovers. However, knowing that the process behind producing a Daguerreotype could take several minutes, the models likely had to hold this pose for an unnatural amount of time while the photo was being taken.


Two Women Embracing. Source.

The question I keep returning to in my study of nudity within museum collections is when does the female body switch from an artistic study of form to pornography. My first, instinctual answer is that this switch occurred with the emergence of photographic representation of contemporary women, as they may appear more relevant and scandalizing to contemporary museum audiences than a centuries old painting or sculpture. The reality, however, is likely more complex than my answer. There are examples of paintings that pushed this distinction too far, crossing the line between artistic appreciation of form into more explicitly erotic depictions. But the availability of technologies like the Daguerreotype allowed a greater number of people to create reproductions of nudity.


Voyeurism and the Nude. Source

These Daguerreotypes were produced and sold out of Paris’ underground porn market, a reaction against crackdowns on a perceived morality crisis. In the example above, Two Nudes in Boudoir Studio Setting, the viewer is again intruding on a fabricated private moment. The shape of the frame also suggests an air of voyeurism, as if they are peering through a viewfinder at the scene within. The quiet intimacy of the subjects, leaning against the surrounding objects of the room reflects common artistic practices within the medium. The women in these images mirror the positions of the singular artist’s study of female nudes, and yet the presence of both women causes these examples to cross the line over into the pornographic.

Why is this? All these examples are functionally the same, pictures taken by men of nude women in similar time periods. My best estimation at this time is that the presence of another contains with it the suggestion of further action. What happened in the boudoir moments after the Daguerreotype was taken? Perhaps therein lies the answer, what makes these images pornographic lies in the voyeur’s imagination.

26 March 2019

TRANS PORNOGRAPHIES AND UNCHECKED FETISHIZATION

Not Your Average Cistory | Amelia Smith


If you have been around the Faculty of Information lately, you may have noticed a small, recent exhibition on the fifth floor of the Inforum. This exhibition covers some aspects of transgender pornography in the later half of the 20th century. As a transgender museum professional that has been desperately trying to find a way to make those identities coexist, I was excited to see something that was relevant to my identity. At least, I was initially.

As I spent more time thinking about the exhibition, I started to feel more and more uncomfortable with the subject matter. The reason was simple: it did nothing to address the fetishization of trans bodies and instead unintentionally played into it.

To be clear, I am not claiming that trans porn is inherently a bad thing. For many trans individuals, sex work and pornography were the only way to make money and survive. Even the most revered trans activists like Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson were forced into sex work simply because of their identities. So, to act as though there is absolutely no place for this would be to ignore history.

The display case showing crossdressing fantasies on one side and real life trans experiences on the other.
Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

Where the problem arises, however, is in how the material is presented. With very few didactics, the exhibit demands the viewer to interpret the objects on display. No where is there a discussion on the outdated language and slurs that run rampant throughout the displays. Words such as "transexual" and "transvestite" have very nuanced histories that are completely lost on most audiences. A cisgender audience, of which the Faculty of Information predominantly is, would not be as familiar with these materials to question the underlying issues that arise from each of the displays.

The exhibit is split up into three sections, the wall, the display case and the vitrine. All of these cover different aspects and each have their own problems. The wall shows photocopies of the Gendertrash zine. The major problem with this section is that, quite simply, these are not pornographic, nor do they discuss trans bodies. They more closely discuss trans identities and the issues of being trans in a world that does not understand them. Simply put, the section is out of place in an exhibition on trans pornography. The only reason I can see it being included is because it was started by a sex worker, but again, there is no text panels to explain why it is there.

The wall covered with photocopies of the Gendertrash zine. The design makes this section fairly inaccessible.
 Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The display case’s presentation is even more baffling. On one side is pulp erotic fiction detailing the forced feminization of men, and on the other is the real-life interviews with trans people. This is especially insulting considering one of the trans people on display was legendary film composer Wendy Carlos. The juxtaposition of crossdressing fetishism with real life trans icons waters down any kind of positive messages that could come from either.

The vitrine is probably the most noticeable of the three displays, containing within it the very explicit images of trans porn VHS tapes. These portray the fantasies of a largely cisgender audience, especially the transfemme ones. Fantasies such as these serve only to portray trans people as some kind of in between, a chance to experience gay sex without having to question one’s sexuality. But this underlying homophobia is never questioned, never addressed, because of the lack of panels discussing the exhibit.

The vitrine containing video trans porn. The use of slurs is most prevalent here.
Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

But the biggest problem in my mind with the exhibit is how it seems to portray the fetishism of trans bodies as being something of the past. Nothing seems to be from this millennium, which gives off a feeling of antiquity to these depictions. This fetishism is anything but antique. If anything, it has been bolstered with the internet. And it is a fact of life that every trans person that is even slightly public knows.

The realities of being openly trans online, an aspect of trans pornographies that this exhibit does not address. Photo courtesy of Amelia Smith.

The exhibit clearly wanted to educate people on the realities of trans porn, but it could have used a trans person to help give a trans voice.