From Nude to Naked

An exploration of nudity in art over time

David, Bacchus, Sleeping Venus, Madonna, Weeping Nude: All beautiful works of art capturing the bare human body. These pieces span from 1510 to 1910, meaning somewhere after this time period, society began to judge nudity in art differently. In the past, nude art has been seen as an alluring and respected genre. No one is surprised when they walk into the Sistine Chapel and see Michelangelo’s unclothed women on the ceiling, because there was nothing intentionally erotic about those portrayals. In contrast, contemporary nude art is sexual and shocking. Even though our generation is supposedly much more open about provocative and controversial topics than previous societies, we still feel a moment of surprise when we see a nude painting online or in museums. There is something very apparent to us about nudity- it does not go unnoticed, whereas in the 16th century, a naked body was merely natural. The difference in the way society viewed nude art in the past versus now can be summed up in one word: intention. For the artist, intention means what he/she wishes to make the viewer feel from their work. For the viewer, intention is what they wish to take away from the experience. Together, the intentions of the artist and viewer create what can either be a captivating and natural ode to the human body, or a provocative and erotic objectification.

“Man's naked form belongs to no particular moment in history; it is eternal, and can be looked upon with joy by the people of all ages” quoted by Auguste Rodin, a French sculptor, who created artworks from 1860-1917. At the height of Rodin’s time, it was natural for nudity to be a part of art, a form of innocent expression. It is still a form of expression, but unfortunately the waters of innocence have been muddied by modern society’s never-failing ability to over-sexualize the human body, particularly that of females.

Edvard Munch’s Madonna depicts a nude woman, but the initial subject-matter viewers’ eyes are drawn to are the colors, the brush strokes, and the emotion in a piece of such esteem. Today, if someone painted a young girl naked, the first thing the public would criticize would be the content, which Radhika Sanghani from the online newspaper, The Telegraph, argues when she critiques Picasso’s nude paintings, “Today we’d probably consider [the courtesans in the painting] to be trafficked women and we’d be campaigning for resources to help them.” These revelations make one question whether it is the time we are living in or the explicit sexual content of the paintings that make society react so differently. Sanghani seems to believe nudity is no longer central to art, but I disagree. I believe the intention of the artist will impact whether or not the artwork is over-sexualized. Obviously, when Michelangelo was sculpting David, his intention was not for every person who witnessed it to be immediately aroused. His intention was to create “a revolutionary interpretation of the biblical hero… a Renaissance masterpiece which still attracts, and does not disappoint, millions of visitors every year at the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence” (Michelangelo’s David).

Today, we have a Museum of Sex in New York City, which might lead one to believe that our society is more comfortable with sex than ever, but on the contrary, we have far too much emphasis on sexual culture. The museum is full of amusing toys and provocative artwork, some of which are beautiful creations, while others leave one wondering who let this piece into a museum and evermore, who decided a Museum of Sex was a good idea? Bodies in past centuries were just anatomy. We may have always been intrigued by the power and beauty of the human body, but it was an admiration, rather than an obsession.

In 1930, a French painter named Francis Picabia created a painting of a Spanish woman and her monsters which was described as “savagely sexual” in an article by Jonathon Jones in the online newspaper, The Guardian, in 2013. Interestingly, when you see the painting, there is nothing truly titillating about it. The painting, Otaïti, clearly depicts a naked woman, but there is so much more to the painting than her vulnerability. Picabia’s works “draw on mythology, religion, the natural world and conventional ideals of beauty, and in their blending of the unexpected, seen in Otaïti’s bizarre assortment of images and warped scale, they touch on a distinctly surreal sensibility” (Askew). It would be a disservice to this talented artist and to the piece he created if we only saw a naked, vulnerable woman. Picabia’s intention was to parallel the sacred and the profane, not for the public to be caught up on anatomy of the female body.

 When did we go from seeing nudity as nakedness, and where does the nuance lie?

Works Cited

Askew, Lucy. “Otaiti” tate.org.uk. December 2005.

Fradd, Matt. “Porn and Naked Art: What’s the Difference?” Wordpress. 10 December 2013.

Jones, Jonathan. “Naked or Nude? Art and Sexual Tension” The Guardian. 15 April 2013.

“Quarterly Group Art Exhibition” Fusion Art. 15 July 2017.

“Michelangelo’s David” Accademia.org N/A.

Sanghani, Radhika. “Nude Women in Art: Are They Really Necessary?” The Telegraph. 12 May 2015.

Cover Image: Edvard Munch, Madonna, 1895-1897, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, photography by Carey Marr

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Review: Delirious Exhibition at The Met, 2017