RUMP

Porn versus eroticism. It remains one of the intriguing themes of aesthetics, after all the field of philosophy in which questions are asked about the possibility of a discussion about an art work’s quality and the criteria to be used.

My suggestion for such a ‘measure’: Involved distance.

If ‘involved distance’ is at stake in a work of art, then the observer’s loses all ‘lust’ in the nudity he is being exposed to. At that moment the nude is an artistic portrayal which dominates his gaze. It is ‘art’ that he now studies – a nude, not someone naked.

Sine ira et studio, albeit with in the background a consciousness of his real lust that is related to the ‘object’ depicted. After all, one is a Mensch.

 

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Recently I emigrated this drawing from the ancestral home which, by now, has been abandoned by my mother. The painter and psychiatrist J.H. Plokker once made it during his studies at The Art Academy. That context per se more or less guarantees an image that is aloof.

Both the artist who sketched her – having pulled up his chair to sit in the circle of his fellow students around what must have been a beautiful woman – and those who much later are observing the drawing, are well aware that it was a ‘model’ that is portrayed.

A neutral model, which these academy students were allowed only to watch. Their student’s clinical eye vouched for the accuracy of what would also become a clinical drawing. After all, they were given marks for it. So it was not a model like the many women with whom – after the work was done – the painter Delacroix said to have ‘tinkered’ regularly. Something you may indeed recognize in those gorgeous women in his paintings.

 

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Perhaps Delacroix also gave these models marks, both as a model and as his bed mate. He may even have given marks to himself for sexual energy – his Journal is radiating smugness whenever he is reporting his little escapades.

Delacroix was indeed a great painter, though, evidenced by the fact that despite his carnal involvement with his models, precisely at the moment of depicting them he could simply forget his cock and use only his eyes to navigate brush and paint.

 

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Curiously nonetheless: one’s gaze seems to become hornier when it begins to concentrate on the particulars of such an image. Each person has his or her fetishes, those details for which the eye is always on the look out, even in an image that shows you a nude in toto. That fetish detail then tends to become… naked.

Yet, even while zooming in on such details an aesthetic eye remains a possibility, now however the ‘arty’ gaze is seriously in need of self-control.

Plokker’s rump in detail:

 

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Once the painter had escaped the shackles of The Academy, there arose brilliant watercolours, usually typified by that ‘involved distance’. Unmistakably the artist must have had deep feelings for what he portrayed, at the same time however managing to catch what he had in view in a clear objectivity.

 

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Observe how he managed to express an almost carnal adoration of light and shade – a love shared with most painters. Yet, at the same time, he is playing a clinical little game with the eye of the beholder.

The first impression here is one of a world out of joint, walls and gates faltering and skewed. Only after some study you find that those delicate shadows have tripped your senses, they show you something that is not there. The little town is indeed ‘in steady state’.

Plokker at his best may be seen in this oil painting of an Indian on horseback, the animal standing in a freezing cold night with snow on the ground, the man his keen eye searching for something in the distance – perhaps a prey.

 

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Girly puppy love for horses – their first lust of the flesh. Maybe she ‘sees’ the horse’s cheeks, but far more so her prince on top of it and that sweet animal’s face with the beautiful eyes. To overcome her confusion, the girl will focus on brushing the horse’s manes and hide. As if it is her own hair with which she is, daily, also occupied for such a long time.

We adults see in Plokker’s horse first of all his art, consisting in the suggestion of a real horse’s body which, with brush and paint, he made appear so well that you want to stroke its ass. So well, that you can almost feel the breath, steaming in the cold air, caress your cheek.

The detail:

 

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Admittedly Plokker’s horse ass cannot compare with the beautiful black rump of his black model, at least not in my eyes. But, then, I’m not a bestialist.

And also admittedly: Sometimes, while observing her curves on that drawing I tend to lose sight of ars longa, surrendering myself to vita brevis.

Sierksma, January 2017

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Author: rjsiersk

contact: rjsiersk@xs4all.nl Sierksma was born in Friesland, a 'county' in the northern part of the Netherlands with its own language which he does not speak and with an obstinate population to which he both belongs and does not belong. A retired Professor of Social Philosophy and Aesthetics, as a Harkness fellow he taught at Rutgers and Berkeley Universities in the USA, and at GUAmsterdam and TUDelft in the Netherlands. In 1991 he was awarded his PhD from Leiden University on the subject of 'Surveillance and Task: Labour Discipline between Utilitarianism and Pragmatism'. His books include Minima Memoria (1993), Lost View (2002 with Jan van Geest), and Litter Scent (2013). He has published poems and articles in Te Elfder Ure, Nynade, Oasis and the Architectural Annual. Half the year he lives in Haarlem, the other half he spends in la France Profonde, living ‘in his own words’ as the house out there was bought with the winnings from his essay Eternal Sin, written for the ECI Essay Prize (1993). In this blog, Sierksma's Sequences, written in English, he is peeping round his own and other people’s perspectives. Not easily satisfied with answers nor with questions, he turns his wry wit to a number of philosophical and historical issues. His aim in writing: to make parts of the world light up in his perspective - not my will, thine! Not being a thief, he has no cook, one wife, some children, one lover and three cats. He would not ind being a cat.

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