Naked reality
So I have this young friend who's a visual artist. He does some painting, some photography, some drawing, some mixed media. He's in a group of artists who meet weekly to discuss and critique each other's work. Many people only bring a piece or two every few weeks because that's as much art as they do; some, almost never. My friend, Rob, brings something, usually more than one piece, every single week. For the past three months or so, he's been on an artistic roll. (He's also had a new boyfriend about that long. He's one of those people whose creativity blossoms when he's happy.) His work is versatile in style, from brightly colored cubism to 30 second gesture sketches in charcoal to altered books filled with rubber stamped images and eclectic collages.
His pet projects, though, are those in nude photography. Nude realism, he calls it. He loves bodies. Live bodies. All kinds of different ones. He takes photos of nude people. Not nude models. Nude people. Some of them are old. Some are male, some female, some both, some neither. Some of them are fat. Some of them are very fat. A few are skinny, but most are what Americans would call fat, mostly, he says, because there are more people like that, but we don't usually see them nude. None are illegally young. Many of these photos include more than one body, and usually the bodies are touching. Not sexually, but often affectionately. Hugging, sitting in laps, leaning against each other, several piled together like sleeping puppies, whathaveyou. Part of what Rob is trying to do, he says, is show some of the beauty of the human condition. Look at these curves, look at those wrinkles, see the delight they seem to take at being smooshed together with one another? Observe the feelings of calm and peacefulness. Is this what Eden could have been like, could still be, if we all walked around naked sometimes and hugged each other?
For the most part, his work is pretty good. Once in a while, it's very good. Some of it is bizarre. Wait, that's me saying that. Let me try to be more objective. Most of his work is bizarre, to most people. Some people love it. Some people hate it and don't want him to bring that kind of work to the group anymore. Some don't even want him to be in the group anymore. The volume of work he brings to the group doesn't take away time or energy or space away from anyone else's. Participants are free to examine and critique only the pieces they choose to. They can walk on by Rob's naked bodies without a word, and he doesn't mind.
However, he is young, and probably more thin-skinned than any sort of artist should be. He has a hard time not getting upset when the content of his work is attacked. Not his artistic style or technique or even merit, but his subject matter. I try to tell him that a negative reaction is often better than no reaction. Obviously his work is affecting people in some way. As an example, I hold up the film Crash (the 1996 film that starred James Spader and Holly Hunter; not the unrelated one of the same name in theatres now). Crash won a special jury award at Cannes for {Something, Something (I can never remember those first two adjectives. Innovation? Originality? anyway) } and Audacity. At all the screenings (all of which sold out), a good portion of people got up and left sometime during the film. Of the people who stayed, most of them lauded it. Some people who didn't stay even acknowledged its merit and power -- it was too powerful for them.
I try to tell my friend that reactions are power, no matter whether they are positive or negative. His art has affected an audience. They are not indifferent. That means the art worked.
I hope he doesn't let the unwashed masses get him down.
His pet projects, though, are those in nude photography. Nude realism, he calls it. He loves bodies. Live bodies. All kinds of different ones. He takes photos of nude people. Not nude models. Nude people. Some of them are old. Some are male, some female, some both, some neither. Some of them are fat. Some of them are very fat. A few are skinny, but most are what Americans would call fat, mostly, he says, because there are more people like that, but we don't usually see them nude. None are illegally young. Many of these photos include more than one body, and usually the bodies are touching. Not sexually, but often affectionately. Hugging, sitting in laps, leaning against each other, several piled together like sleeping puppies, whathaveyou. Part of what Rob is trying to do, he says, is show some of the beauty of the human condition. Look at these curves, look at those wrinkles, see the delight they seem to take at being smooshed together with one another? Observe the feelings of calm and peacefulness. Is this what Eden could have been like, could still be, if we all walked around naked sometimes and hugged each other?
For the most part, his work is pretty good. Once in a while, it's very good. Some of it is bizarre. Wait, that's me saying that. Let me try to be more objective. Most of his work is bizarre, to most people. Some people love it. Some people hate it and don't want him to bring that kind of work to the group anymore. Some don't even want him to be in the group anymore. The volume of work he brings to the group doesn't take away time or energy or space away from anyone else's. Participants are free to examine and critique only the pieces they choose to. They can walk on by Rob's naked bodies without a word, and he doesn't mind.
However, he is young, and probably more thin-skinned than any sort of artist should be. He has a hard time not getting upset when the content of his work is attacked. Not his artistic style or technique or even merit, but his subject matter. I try to tell him that a negative reaction is often better than no reaction. Obviously his work is affecting people in some way. As an example, I hold up the film Crash (the 1996 film that starred James Spader and Holly Hunter; not the unrelated one of the same name in theatres now). Crash won a special jury award at Cannes for {Something, Something (I can never remember those first two adjectives. Innovation? Originality? anyway) } and Audacity. At all the screenings (all of which sold out), a good portion of people got up and left sometime during the film. Of the people who stayed, most of them lauded it. Some people who didn't stay even acknowledged its merit and power -- it was too powerful for them.
I try to tell my friend that reactions are power, no matter whether they are positive or negative. His art has affected an audience. They are not indifferent. That means the art worked.
I hope he doesn't let the unwashed masses get him down.