Sunday 22 June 2014

The art of getting one's kit off

As an artist I've never been an admirer of the naked human form as subject matter. I don't think it has anything to do with any repression or hang-ups. I have no fear of the naked human bodily form in any of its shapes and sizes. In fact I'm quite relaxed about it. It's just that so far I've never felt the need to express myself in my art via the nude. Although I'd happily pose nude for another artist or photographer. I suppose it is the paradox of the nude being both liberating and oppressing that disturbs me. I've always been troubled by the possible exploitative nature of it. If you attach the label of 'art' to something, does that make it more respectable than say pornography? And, who determines what is art and what is pornography? I've never understood the true meaning of erotic either. So perhaps it's me? I'm no prude; if people want to take their clothes of let them I say. If there was more nudity about amongst the general populace perhaps we might be less shocked by it and perhaps exploitation might be reduced considerably. Who knows? 

Due to my ambiguous feelings it's rare that I appreciate the art-form that is the nude. There are one or two exceptions however, Tamara de Lempicka's work being an obvious one, but for me one painting that is outstanding for its form, humanity and love is this portrait of Patricia Preece by Stanley Spencer:

I wrote this blog posting in rough form a couple of weeks ago but was inspired to finish it and post it after my creative writing course of last week.

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