Seduced? A bit.

I had been dying to go to this exhibition. Full of anticipation, I took the Fuck It approach to finances, and booked my tickets. All in the name of creative research, you see…

The exhibition was ‘Seduced: Sex and Art from Antiquity to Now’ at the Barbican Gallery in London. Now in its third and final month, Seduced has included a performance by a burlesque troupe,  a talk with renowned sexpert, Tracey Cox, and viewings of the most controversial films dealing with the all-pervasive subject of human sexuality.

I find myself before the gallery. (Aside: the Barbican is an architectural mistake, both inside and out. I gape, jaw-on-ground, for some minutes before I remember to keep walking) A silver bowl of condoms graces the ticket desk and looks rather elegant in a kitsch kind of way. There are pheromones in the air.

‘Seduced’ is the only exhibition in Britain with an over 18 rating. There’s something delicious about that number. When a book has been banned, I’m first in queue for a copy. When a new film is released with a claim to revolutionise cinematic history, I’m in the front row with popcorn. I’m only human. And insatiably curious. I’m an open-minded-almost-impossible-to-shock kinda gal, but I thought I might emerge from ‘Seduced’ mildly ablush. And did I? Read on and find out…

In room number one, I am greeted by the giant fig-leaf used by Queen Victoria, to preserve the dignity of Michelangelo’s David. Queen Victoria allegedly refused to outlaw lesbianism on the grounds that it simply didn’t exist. Women didn’t do that. The atmosphere in the gallery is stifling. I’m hoping the metaphorical collar is loosened up soon. In the words of Helen Lawrenson,”whatever else can be said about sex, it cannot be called a dignified performance.”

There is something going on in every corner. To my left, a flashing pink sign by notorious(ly overrated?) Tracey Emin, poses the question:

I’m sure there’s something meaningful about this. Still, I’m significantly underwhelmed and irritated: the reaction I have to most of her work. A 45 degree turn shows an early Warhol film called Blowjob, depicting a man in the throes of ecstasy, but only from the shoulders up. I like this. It is at once selfish and unpretentious. There’s no hiding from the overbearing face, strategically placed to watch you from any point in the gallery. Agony is beautiful. It’s also unusual to see male orgasm objectified in such a way for the predominantly male gaze. Warhol’s sexuality makes the artwork doubly significant – it is both groundbreaking and totally demystified.

This dynamic is later challenged for very different reasons. KR Buxey’s Requiem is both a homage and counterpoint to Blowjob. The video installation depicts the female artist receiving oral sex in the same face-only frame, with Faure’s ‘Requiem’ adding a dimension that is lacking in Warhol’s piece. There is something about a sequence of facial contortions played over melodramatic music that is unabashedly amusing. Buxey’s film has a sense of humour. Walking out of that little viewing room, however, something clicked. The female orgasm of the porn industry is either faked or irrelevant. Here, it’s an intricate, unadorned and incredibly candid portrait. It’s not fake. It’s not injected with silicone. It’s very real, and very moving.

My favourite piece was a photographic montage by Nan Goldin. Heartbeat is an ode to sexual love, played to a sublime and haunting cover of ‘Kyrie Eleison’ by the wonderful Bjork. Kyrie Eleison is Greek for ‘Lord, have mercy,’ which, when considered in the context of sexual pleasure and gratification, inevitably raises questions of guilt in a religious framework. Sadly, many are shackled by their faith, not, as they believe, guided by it. Sex is natural. It’s normal, and so is the need for pleasure. In a world dominated by religion, it can be a frustrating and alienating place for a non-believer. Goldin’s piece is timeless, immensely significant and it moved me almost to tears. I think it’s impossible to ignore the questions it raises, and I hope, more than anything, that it acts as a logical intervention to those plagued by unneccessary (and often self-destructive) guilt.

The exhibition succeeded on a lot of levels. It waxed and waned between mild arousal and earth-shattering climax. At times, the Guardian crossword seemed more thrilling. I guess I wanted more, but just what ‘more’ is would involve a lengthy debate on censorship. That, kids, is to be covered in another chapter.

Seduced is a portrayal of sex from antiquity to now. That’s over 2000 years of the stuff. You wanted to know if I left with a slightly roseate glow to my naturally pale complexion? Well, I saw a lot. From anally inserted whips to  graphic Japanese brothel art and magnified anatomical studies, there was certainly enough to make a shy gal blush. But I am not shy. Unless I have selective vision, however, I’m pretty certain that no space was given to the exploration of lesbianism.

Did I miss something? From Sappho to my own experience, I’m in no doubt over its existence. Am I blushing? No. I’m just a little perplexed…

I suppose Seduced wanted us to consider whether sex and sexuality have changed much in the last 2000 years. It seems a shame that such an eagerly-anticipated exhibition left a lot of (vitally important!) ground uncovered. Still, it showcased some worthy pieces, and took me on an interesting, if slightly anti-climactic journey.

~ by fatalname on January 28, 2008.