Showing posts with label the body. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the body. Show all posts
Monday, December 31, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
Henri Matisse and Leandro de Carvalho
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Leandro Carvalho, ca. 2011 (top right) and Henri Matisse, 1933 (top left). Henri Matisse, Blue Nude, 1907/ (bottom).
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Forget about Picasso or Matisse. Let me introduce you to Leandro Carvalho.
Carvalho, who is a native of Brazil and has studied women’s gluteus aesthetics for many years, has created the ultimate Brazilian Butt Lift workout routine. This workout consists of body movements to better shape female butts.
Carvalho obviously understands the importance of nature when representing the female body. Many of his workout video shots happen amongst nature—at the beach, and by mountains. Carvalho shows that he believes nature is a vital part of the process of increasing and reshaping the female body. In many parts of the video, close shots of the gluteus area are presented. The close shots abstract the gluteus to a mountain and the mountains, which are shown as part of the scenario, become the gluteus. Carvalho transforms nature—solid, brown, sexy, sweaty and stinky.
Carvalho not only understands the importance of nature when representing the female body, but also shows his knowledge of art history. Among Carvalho’s influences, one can find Gauguin—a painter who captured the intense relationship between the female body and nature—and Matisse—whose poses like the Blue Nude (image above) has influenced many of Carvalho’s butt lift exercises. Carvalho's affiliation to art history does not stop there. Carvalho is bringing something new to the history of representation. He is reshaping the female body by making a participatory video piece. Carvalho is shaping hundreds of thousands of female bodies—one by one. Each exercise is a brushstroke that gives a firmer shape, pleasant form and strong color to the female body.
Text from my thesis: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Butts are Butterflies: The Book of Natural Curiosities.
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| Screenshot from Leandro de Carvalho's Brazilian Butt Life Infomercial video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxCUfFGn6AM). |
Text from my thesis: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Butts are Butterflies: The Book of Natural Curiosities.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
On Nudity
I live near Baker Beach in San Francisco. On sunny days, I like to pull on my neon yellow swimsuit and red flip-flops and take a five-minute stroll down to the ocean. I pack a sandwich, a book, and occasionally a bottle of wine. I lie down on my palm tree beach towel and stare out into the ocean, which looks like "The End of the World" at the horizon line, like the planet really is flat, and it just drops off right there at the point where I can't see any farther. The waves beat the shore in time with my own heartbeat, and it's nice to breathe in the salty air with the Golden Gate Bridge looking like a toy that I can just reach out and take if I want.
Hot guys and girls walk by, checking each other out. Hippies walk by, playing their guitars and smoking pot. Families walk by, warning their toddlers not to stray into the waves and sometimes speaking in languages that I know by ear, like Japanese or German, but not by heart. I like to sit near the north side of the beach, just short of the imaginary point where public nudity becomes acceptable. I glance over and see the old men walking along the shore in the distance, sporting nothing aside from shoes and the occasional hat. Sitting far enough away, I can watch them and pretend that I'm just looking at the fog rolling under the bridge. From the front, I can't even tell that they're naked. But once they turn around, their pale, saggy cheeks scream at my eyeballs.
This habit of mine may be creepy, and it's definitely voyeuristic, but it mainly springs from my self-conscious discomfort around nudity. As an artist and painter, you are expected to be nonchalant, even brazen, when faced with the nude body. But let me explain a little: I grew up in a fairly religious household in which nudity was not only uncommon but seen as shameful and forbidden. After all, Adam and Eve were forced to clothe themselves to hide their shame from God, and thus we should follow suit and do the same. When I was a student artist in college, our figure models wore skimpy bikinis instead of nothing (if I had enjoyed figure drawing at the time and continued on with the courses, I could have eventually "graduated" to the 3rd and 4th levels of the class, which were clothing-free). But as it was, my Baptist-affiliated university did not deem my novice-artist-eyes appropriate enough to take in a naked body. Which is confusing. I had been studying art history since my senior year in high school, and we all know that the history of art is filled with more nudity than SF's Folsom Street Fair (though, of course, not quite as sexually hardcore!). But even then, I can't remember my seventeen-year-old self having to get a parent to sign a permission slip to take the AP-level class.
So where is this arbitrary and ultimately pointless line that exists between "acceptable nudity" and "uncomfortable nudity"? And what is the root of society's discomfort as well as my own? Is it American Puritanism? Insecurities about our own bodies? Why is it more appropriate for a high school student to study paintings of naked women (let's face it: the number of naked men included in the canon of western art history is negligible unless you count Robert Mapplethorpe) than it is for a college student to draw from naked women in real life. Does it always come back to religion? I'm not so sure.
I recently watched the final season of the primetime soap opera Desperate Housewives. As part of her storyline, one of the housewives, Susan Mayer, takes a painting class in the hope of transitioning her artistic career from that of an illustrator to a fine artist. Now, on the show, Susan is no stranger to nudity: in an infamous scene from season one, she locks herself out of her house while fully naked, runs across her yard ironically covering herself only with a bush, and is eventually discovered by her crush (and future husband), Mike Delfino. While embarrassed by the situation, Susan plays it relatively cool when compared to how a real person would likely react. So her attitude towards nudity seems quite strange when we fast-forward to an episode in which her teacher brings a nude male model to the painting class: she becomes extremely flustered and is the only student who can't contain her giggles. Keep in mind that the character of Susan is not overly religious (that role goes to Bree Van de Kamp) or prudish (throughout the course of the show, she is shown in bed with several men) and is also pushing fifty. Why would a completely mature, adult woman who is clearly familiar with the male body have the reaction of a child? I'm fully aware that this is a poor example due to its fictitious and comedic nature; however, I also think that in general, TV tends to reflect the attitudes of contemporaneous society from which it springs. On an unrelated yet related note, San Francisco, which is not a religious city by any means, is currently grappling with the issue of its longtime openness and embrace of public nudity.
Okay, okay: public nudity and nudity in art are two separate issues, but one got me thinking about the other and led to the discovery that the two are intertwined in my mind and reveal my own hypocrisy and double-standard on the subject. To this day, I have not yet been able to re-wire my brain to keep from twitching slightly when I see a nude person in the street, on the beach, or in the drawing room. And still, I don't give it a second thought when I look at naked figures in paintings or even when I paint them myself. But I enjoy living in a city where people are free to do as they please as long as they aren't hurting others, and those screamingly pale, saggy cheeks even fill me with an odd sense of pride. So I guess that's progress.
Hot guys and girls walk by, checking each other out. Hippies walk by, playing their guitars and smoking pot. Families walk by, warning their toddlers not to stray into the waves and sometimes speaking in languages that I know by ear, like Japanese or German, but not by heart. I like to sit near the north side of the beach, just short of the imaginary point where public nudity becomes acceptable. I glance over and see the old men walking along the shore in the distance, sporting nothing aside from shoes and the occasional hat. Sitting far enough away, I can watch them and pretend that I'm just looking at the fog rolling under the bridge. From the front, I can't even tell that they're naked. But once they turn around, their pale, saggy cheeks scream at my eyeballs.
This habit of mine may be creepy, and it's definitely voyeuristic, but it mainly springs from my self-conscious discomfort around nudity. As an artist and painter, you are expected to be nonchalant, even brazen, when faced with the nude body. But let me explain a little: I grew up in a fairly religious household in which nudity was not only uncommon but seen as shameful and forbidden. After all, Adam and Eve were forced to clothe themselves to hide their shame from God, and thus we should follow suit and do the same. When I was a student artist in college, our figure models wore skimpy bikinis instead of nothing (if I had enjoyed figure drawing at the time and continued on with the courses, I could have eventually "graduated" to the 3rd and 4th levels of the class, which were clothing-free). But as it was, my Baptist-affiliated university did not deem my novice-artist-eyes appropriate enough to take in a naked body. Which is confusing. I had been studying art history since my senior year in high school, and we all know that the history of art is filled with more nudity than SF's Folsom Street Fair (though, of course, not quite as sexually hardcore!). But even then, I can't remember my seventeen-year-old self having to get a parent to sign a permission slip to take the AP-level class.
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| Titian, Venus of Urbino, Oil on canvas, c. 1538. |
So where is this arbitrary and ultimately pointless line that exists between "acceptable nudity" and "uncomfortable nudity"? And what is the root of society's discomfort as well as my own? Is it American Puritanism? Insecurities about our own bodies? Why is it more appropriate for a high school student to study paintings of naked women (let's face it: the number of naked men included in the canon of western art history is negligible unless you count Robert Mapplethorpe) than it is for a college student to draw from naked women in real life. Does it always come back to religion? I'm not so sure.
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| Screenshot from Desperate Housewives, Season 1, Episode 3: "Pretty Little Picture", 2004. |
I recently watched the final season of the primetime soap opera Desperate Housewives. As part of her storyline, one of the housewives, Susan Mayer, takes a painting class in the hope of transitioning her artistic career from that of an illustrator to a fine artist. Now, on the show, Susan is no stranger to nudity: in an infamous scene from season one, she locks herself out of her house while fully naked, runs across her yard ironically covering herself only with a bush, and is eventually discovered by her crush (and future husband), Mike Delfino. While embarrassed by the situation, Susan plays it relatively cool when compared to how a real person would likely react. So her attitude towards nudity seems quite strange when we fast-forward to an episode in which her teacher brings a nude male model to the painting class: she becomes extremely flustered and is the only student who can't contain her giggles. Keep in mind that the character of Susan is not overly religious (that role goes to Bree Van de Kamp) or prudish (throughout the course of the show, she is shown in bed with several men) and is also pushing fifty. Why would a completely mature, adult woman who is clearly familiar with the male body have the reaction of a child? I'm fully aware that this is a poor example due to its fictitious and comedic nature; however, I also think that in general, TV tends to reflect the attitudes of contemporaneous society from which it springs. On an unrelated yet related note, San Francisco, which is not a religious city by any means, is currently grappling with the issue of its longtime openness and embrace of public nudity.
 |
| Screenshots from Desperate Housewives, Season 8, Episode 5: "The Art of Making Art", 2011. |
Okay, okay: public nudity and nudity in art are two separate issues, but one got me thinking about the other and led to the discovery that the two are intertwined in my mind and reveal my own hypocrisy and double-standard on the subject. To this day, I have not yet been able to re-wire my brain to keep from twitching slightly when I see a nude person in the street, on the beach, or in the drawing room. And still, I don't give it a second thought when I look at naked figures in paintings or even when I paint them myself. But I enjoy living in a city where people are free to do as they please as long as they aren't hurting others, and those screamingly pale, saggy cheeks even fill me with an odd sense of pride. So I guess that's progress.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Ritual
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| Jackson Pollock (1912-1956). Photographer Hans Namuth (1915-1990). Gelatin silver prints, 1950 Published May 1951 National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of the estate of Hans Namuth © Estate of Hans Namuth. |
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| Photo of Liam Everett working (2012). |
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| Photo of Oscar Niemeyer drawing (circa 2000s). |
The artist—unconscious and dancing—letting impulses take over his body. At first, he moves quickly, as a mechanism to beat his mind. His muscles are loose, his body is thoughtless, his fists are fast, his painting is music. But with time, he allows moments of serenity and pause (when he masters to think of absolutely nothing). He makes reality like a machine, never questioning his primal performance.
Alexander Mcqueen Summer/Spring 1999 Runaway.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
The Shape of Things
1. A reality TV show
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| Promotional poster for Face Off, a reality-competition TV show featuring complete face/body transformations through prosthetics and make-up, 2011. |
2. A photograph I took in undergrad
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| Adair Stephens, Other no. 1, Gelatin silver print, 2008. |
3. A recent painting
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| Bruna Massadas, Mother of All, Acrylic on canvas, 2012, 42 x 54 in. |
4. A music video
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| Cropped still from the music video for "Rio" by Duran Duran, directed by Russell Mulcahy, 1982. |
5. An older painting
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| Henri Matisse, Femme au chapeau (Woman with a Hat), Oil on canvas, 1905, 31 1/4 x 23 1/2 in. |
6. A play and movie
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| Movie poster for The Shape of Things, a play (2001) and movie (2003) written and directed by Neil LaBute in which a woman slowly and secretly "sculpts" a man by convincing him to alter his appearance and personality. |
Friday, August 10, 2012
Crazy Eyes
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| Ramona Singer of Bravo's "Real Housewives of NYC", a textbook example of CE. |
Within the face, I tend to get sidetracked by and excited most about the eyes.
Bulging
Popping
Rolling
Flashing
Rocking back and forth
Deep-set
Wide-set
Heavy-lidded
One drooping
Crinkly
Twinkling
Beady
Lazy-eyed
Cross-eyed
The list goes on and on, and I love them all. The crazier they tend to be, the more I am seduced by their spell. But society and popular media have coined a term for unusual eyes to warn people about what's really going on with that person: they have themselves some "crazy eyes". Now, people tend to either embrace this (Nicki Minaj frequently uses this as an attention-getting schtick, which fits with her look-at-me-I'm-so-crazy persona) or are completely embarrassed by it (Michelle Bachmann was furious with her August 2011 Newsweek cover shot). After all, we look into someone's eyes to see if they are being honest. The ways our face contorts around our eyes determine what emotions we display. And if we want to know if someone is a vampire, we check to see if their eyes are red.
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| Michelle Bachmann doesn't like her crazy eyes. |
Seriously, though, eyes are eyes. They are all fascinating. They are all crazy. I say that we start using "crazy eyes" with a positive connotation. For example, "She's quite the beauty from her long, gorgeous legs right up to her crazy eyes." What would be the opposite of crazy eyes, anyway? Sane eyes?
Life is too short to have sane eyes.
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