Kathryn Sibiski                     
fin de siécle
7 May 2002
final paper
ilikepaint@yahoo.com

  The Paradox of Fetishism and Pornography: The Grotesque and its Diversion and Invitation of the Gaze

 Absinthe is to all other drinks what Aubrey’s drawings are to other pictures; it stands alone; it is like nothing else; it shimmers like southern twilight in opalescent colouring; it has about it the seduction of strange sins.  It is stronger than any other spirit and brings out the subconscious in man.  It is just like your drawings, Aubrey; it gets on one’s nerves and is cruel.

Oscar Wilde (Weintraub, 62)

       Aubrey Beardsley’s life has been described as a paradox; people have described him as both shocking and dandy-like.[1]  Similarly, his multi-layered and often complicated work can be viewed as his paradoxical statement of his times and his mind.  He blends pornographic imagery with high art style.  He blurs the line between bourgeois high art forms and the mass media of illustration.  But most of all, he pushes the envelope, both of bourgeois morality and the traditional notion of “art,” becoming one of the forerunners of the Decadent movement.

Beardsley forms the grotesque into an image of beauty, fetishism and objectification; he not only depicts characters engaged in fetishistic acts, but also portrays this fetishism in a fetishistic way, in essence, portraying a fetishistic subject matter in a fetishistic style.  By integrating grotesque imagery into images of fetishism and making the grotesque beautiful, Beardsley creates both a repulsive and simultaneous attractive image, an “aesthetic of the grotesque,” inviting the viewer to gaze and yet turn away, highlighted by the prominent role of the gaze within Beardsley’s work.  In addition to his images of fetishism, Beardsley also integrates grotesqueries into his depictions of pornographically influenced works.  Not only is the integration of pornography into art a paradox in itself, but it also creates a paradoxical image through the integration of the beautifully grotesque.  Grotesque pornography invites a spectacle while simultaneously pushing the viewer’s gaze away. 

Biography  

     He was both loved and despised in his time, accepted and rejected.  But no matter how he was received, Aubrey Beardsley has been one of the most controversial and yet influential artists in nineteenth century England.  Beardsley was born on 21 August 1872, to a middle class family living in Brighton, England.  He was described by his mother as being “like a delicate piece of Dresden china” not only for his lonely attitude as a child but also for his physical condition.  For his entire life (and subsequently, his death), Beardsley suffered from tuberculosis.  Resulting from the knowledge of his own physical decay, his illness influenced his not only his life but also his art.

     At a very young age, Beardsley discovered his talent in art, music, and theatre as well as developed an insatiable appetite for literature.  While working as a clerk in an insurance office at the age of seventeen, Beardsley worked on his drawings.  In 1891, he went with his sister, Mabel, to Burne-Jones’s studio; here, Burne-Jones looked at his artwork and praised Beardsley’s talent.  In addition, Beardsley met Oscar Wilde and his wife.  It was here that Beardsley began to develop the relationship of duality with Wilde, which greatly influenced Beardsley’s career.[2]  It was at this point that Beardsley’s work began circulating the art world.

     Only two years later, Beardsley was commissioned to illustrate Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur.  From the time of this commission to his death in 1898, Beardsley worked on numerous projects ranging from his illustration of Wilde’s Salome to his co-founding of the journals The Yellow Book and The Savoy, to name a few.  It seems his awareness of his own mortality, not only influenced the content of his drawings, but also the amount of work produced, especially considering he died at the age of 25. 

                Fetish

     According to Freud, fetishism is a replacement for the maternal phallus, a symbolic “re-masculinization” of the mother, allowing the fetishist (in Freud’s case, the fetishist is always male) to engage in sexual acts.  As Freud explains:

It [the fetish] remains a token of triumph over the threat of castration and a safeguard against it; it also save the fetishist from being a homosexual by endowing women with the attribute which makes them acceptable as sexual objects. [3] 

But, since Beardsley’s work often depicts women fetishistically engaging with an object (such as his depictions of Salome), Freud’s definition of fetish does not apply.

     Instead, Emily Apter’s discussion of fetishism is more useful when discussing Beardsley’s art.  In her preface, Apter establishes her aims for a  (re)definition as well as a multiple layered reading of fetishism.  She states that a rigid separation between fetishist and voyeur, that “the fetishist does indeed refuse to look, but in refusing to look, he stares.  It is a ‘not looking’ sustained paradoxically through visual fixation on the substitute phallus.” [4]  Although it is problematic discussing fetishism in relation to a “substitute phallus,” the other section of Apter’s discussion applies well to the artwork of Beardsley. 

Salome with the St. John’s Head

     One example of the paradox of the gaze can be seen in Beardsley’s Salome with St. John’s Head, an illustration of Wilde’s Salome (figure 1).  Although Beardsley has often been said to have altered the text [5], Beardsley still renders Salome’s fetishistic and obsessive desire, similar to Wilde’s characterization of Salome.  As is blatantly apparent, Salome stares at her fetishistic desire, the castrated head of Iokanaan; since his eyes remain closed, his eyes do not return the gaze.  Salome, in a sense, is blind to the “reality” of Iokanaan.[6]  His decapitated head serves as a fetish, finally giving her the kiss that she desired.  Therefore, Salome’s visual fixation on the head of Iokanaan is a fetishistic paradox; through the act of looking, she is unable to “see.”

     Not only is it important to understand the fetish that Beardsley portrays in his drawings of Salome, but also it is necessary to understand that during the nineteenth century, there were many portrayals of Salome and the decapitated head of John the Baptist.  In essence, the subject matter became a fetish itself. Charles Bernheimer discusses this fetishization as it relates to castration.  “Castration, I am arguing, is as decadent an interpretation of sexual difference as is the defense mechanism it motivates, fetishism.”[7] 

Speaking in Freudian terms, castration anxiety is the fear of the castrating genitals of the female, of losing the penis.  But by nature of the Freudian fetish, as discussed earlier, it acts as a “substitute phallus,” therefore making it possible to engage in sexual acts.  By making a “substitute phallus” out of a fear of losing the phallus is a paradox.  Bernheimer’s argument broadens the interpretation of Beardsley’s fetishism.  While portraying a fetishistic relationship between Salome and Iokanaan, he simultaneously engages in a fetish of the period, the preoccupation with the theme of castration; and this theme itself is paradoxical in that it creates a desire for castration, castration makes it possible to fulfill fin de siécle sexuality, in Freudian terms.

     There is yet another layer of fetishism that Beardsley engages in which is apparent in Salome with St. John’s Head; it is that of fetishistic surface and style.  Looking at the drawing gives the viewer a conflicting experience, that of attraction as well as non-attraction.  First, Beardsley works within an aesthetic of Japanese style.  By alluding to “exotic” forms, Beardsley fetishizes the image of Salome, making her “other.”  More importantly, this flattening and flowing style of Beardsley’s Japanese-esque drawings creates a fetish of the body by making the body surface decoration, objectified.

     This objectification/fetishization is apparent when looking at the figure of Salome in Salome with St. John’s Head.  Although she is not the fetishistic object,[8] she becomes an object through Beardsley’s style.  Her body is so stylized that it ceases to be a body; she becomes a series of stylized lines.  Her hair is displayed Medusa-like and flat.  The graceful curves of her hair are continued through to the stylized lines as well as the black block behind the heads of Salome and St. John.  She is presented on the same level as the other objects within the drawing since she literally becomes lines. 

     Beardsley’s objectification is important when looking at how he portrays Salome as an object.  Her face is twisted in a grotesque and evil smile.  Sharp angles and irritated lines outline parts of her body as well as parts of the background.  Overall, Beardsley depicts her with grotesque details.  In contrast to the harshness of Salome’s character, the rest of the drawing is filled with beautiful, graceful lines and fantastic imagery.  In fact, there is a visual parallel between Salome and St. John with the two contrasting shaped flowers.  The one directly underneath Salome is erect, full blooming, and beautiful while St. John’s flower is impotent, dying, and depressed.  This is quite unusual since St. John, the figure depicted more beautifully, is acquainted with the drooping flower.  As a result, Beardsley concentrates on the beauty in the grotesque image of Salome.  While portraying a frightening and castrating figure, who seems repulsive and demonic, Beardsley invites the viewer to see beauty.  His fetishization of Salome operates paradoxically, simultaneously denying the gaze while also inviting the gaze.

The Peacock Skirt for Salome

     Salome with the Head of St. John is not the only drawing the Beardsley portrays a complicated and layered image of fetishism.  In The Peacock Skirt for Salome, Beardsley depicts an object of fetishism while simultaneously engaging in a fetishistic style turning the tables on the object of the fetish (figure 2).  In addition, both fetishes engage in a paradox of aestheticism—showing a desire to see the monstrous as attractive; and in the case of this drawing, the feminine as masculine and the masculine as feminine.

     As stated before, in Wilde’s Salome, St. John is the object of fetishistic desire for Salome.  In The Peacock Skirt, Beardsley shows this desire through the use of the gaze.  Salome stares domineeringly at Iokanaan while he looks back at her with sultry eyes.[9]  St. John ceases to play the traditional object of the gaze; he is not only the one being looked upon but also asserts looking. 

     In a similar vein, Beardsley depicts Salome with opposing characteristics, creating a paradoxical persona, blurring the lines of fetish.  She holds a power of looking within the drawing, maintaining a dominant position through her overpowering size and stature.  But, due to Beardsley’s style, she becomes a fetish.  First, she is depicted in flowing Japanese-like clothing serving as a device to “other” her by making her an exotic object.  In addition, Beardsley draws a visual parallel between her and the peacock situated in the upper right corner of the drawing.  Not only does she wear the plumage of a peacock in her hair (drawing a direct parallel), but she also cranes her body in a similar curve as the peacock’s neck.  By drawing a visual parallel, Beardsley establishes Salome as an object of beauty, an object to behold.

     Depicting Salome as an object to behold[10] becomes paradoxical when taking into consideration that she is depicted in an ugly way.  Again, her face is sneering while her body is depicted with sharp edges and stark contrasts.  She is a threatening figure through her harsh and aggressive stylization, in essence, a “castrating” woman.  Just as in Salome with St. John’s Head, Beardsley fetishizes the “castrating” woman.  She becomes an active, grotesque figure while simultaneously being an object of fetishism.

     Beardsley adds another spin to this image of paradoxical fetishism.  He makes a connection between fetishism and the fluidity of genders.  As Chris Snodgrass explains in his analysis of the two figures in the drawing:

While one may seem aggressive and intense, and the other restrained and passive, both at first glance appear to be female and elegant.  Yet on second glance we see those feminine and elegant qualities undercut by their opposites—the male and, just as significant, the vulgar… The figures are hermaphroditic, which in itself makes them paradoxes, and the polarities they embody are not harmonized but starkly demarcated, so that they deliberately jar our sensibilities, rupturing the smooth logic of traditional categories and associations.[11]

By connecting blurred genders to a fetishized image, Beardsley continues to layer his sense of a paradoxical fetishism.  His image of the fetish creates contrasting ideas of grotesqueness and beauty, subject and object[12], and “feminine” and “masculine.”

Frontispiece for Earl of Lavender

     Beardsley’s image of fetishism takes yet another turn when discussing the frontispiece to John Davidson’s Earl Lavender (figure 3).  Although the image still contains a paradoxical sense of fetishism—both titillating and threatening—as well as a conflicting sense of gender “norms,” it contains an influence of pornography, which challenges the traditional sense of “art.”  While challenging the traditional notions of “art” by the inclusion of pornographic imagery, Beardsley still operates within the art world, resulting in a blending of the two distinct worlds.

     The frontispiece contains an image of an aristocratic woman with her arm raised, holding a whip, while her partner kneels with his/her back awaiting the whipping.  As has been established by the two previous drawings, Beardsley depicted a pre-occupation with the “castrating” woman; and it is no different in this drawing.  The aristocratic sadist, in addition to the sardonic sneer on her face, holds the whip threateningly.  The three prongs of the whip point ominously in the direction of the masochist.  Realistically, the woman would be having difficulty standing in the awkwardly frontal position, while holding the whip in that position.  Therefore, Beardsley purposely places her in the twisted positioning in order to display her curved figure, the threatening whip, and her nearly exposed breasts. 

While the woman engages in the fetish of sadomasochism, while she participates in a fetishistic act within the drawing, Beardsley fetishizes her image.  First, her dress is in the act of falling off her torso, allowing the viewer at a peek of her breasts.  The emphasis on her breasts differs greatly with her role as a “masculine” source of power with the whip.  In addition, her dress seems overtly “feminine,” creating a contrast of gender roles that blurs a notion of “normal” genders.

The masochist on the other hand, plays a similar role to that Iokanaan’s head in figure 1.  S/he is the object of the fetish and does not play a particularly large role in creating a paradox of fetishistic object, since s/he plays a passive role.[13]  But still, with the presence of the masochist’s head outside the frame of the drawing, the sadist is able to be characterized as castrating, by giving the masochist a literal castration.  In addition, the masochist plays an important role when taking into consideration the gender blurring of him/her.  Since both the head and the sex-marking body parts are hidden from view, it is difficult to say what sex the person is.[14]  Therefore, Beardsley makes the figure ambiguous, blurring boundaries as he often does with his paradoxically fetishistic images.

With the inclusion of pornographic imagery, Beardsley makes a paradoxical statement about art itself.  The image of a woman flagellating a person was a common image on erotic postcards of the nineteenth century.  The integration of pornography into high art is a paradoxical idea since pornography “developed simultaneously as both an extension of, and a counter to, modern aesthetics.”[15]  As a result, pornography works in two opposite ways when integrated into “artistic” aesthetics; for and against “modern” aesthetics.  In a similar way, Beardsley uses pornographic imagery while simultaneously denying that imagery as a way to mix the “grotesqueness” of pornography with the beauty of tradition.

The frontispiece to Earl Lavender is a good example of blending pornography with tradition, maintaining yet breaking with “normality.”  Beardsley could have easily portrayed both figures nude.[16]  In contrast, he maintains a sense of dignity within the drawing by showing restraint. 

If Beardsley had chosen to go a step further in undress, surely the picture would have been labeled obscene, for then it would have depicted an action overtly sexual, overtly in connection with the pornographic photographs that feature the same action.  His restraint, however, is not simply a capitulation to censorship, but an important signifier of gentlemanly intention.[17]

Therefore, by the presence of pornographic material in the frontispiece, Beardsley blurs the lines between art and pornography through the paradox of its relationship.  The pornographic images invite the viewer into titillation as well as fear.

Pornography

Beardsley challenges traditional notions of art by integrating pornography while simultaneously still working within art world.  As seen in the frontispiece for Earl Lavender, pornographic aspects of Beardsley’s work invite the viewer into physical sensation and voyeuristic pleasure, while his artistic aspects create a restraining sense of intellectual distance.  But it is apparent when looking at other Beardsley works, that he at times, inverts the relationship between pornography and art, making pornography divert the gaze and art invite the gaze through the use of grotesque imagery.

The split between art and pornography in nineteenth century England, for the purposes of this paper, is that which Allison Pease defines in her book on the aesthetics of obscenity.  She defines these terms in relation to Kantian ideas of the time.  Kant defines art with a layering of terms, establishing a difference between sense and idea—sense having the ability to be universal (pleasurable or dis-pleasurable) while idea is not able to transcend to the universal.

But what is most important in her discussion of Kantian theory is his distinction between the beautiful and the agreeable.  The beautiful is moral[18] and can allow for “aesthetic free play,” making the “form to achieve a disinterested, or non-personal, delight that is universally communicable.”[19] 

In contrast to the beautiful is the agreeable.  Pease summarizes Kant’s definition as never being able to transcend sensibility; instead, its sole purpose is for enjoyment.  “Kant defines the agreeable as the irrational pleasures built solely upon personal sensation and ‘what GRATIFIES a man.’  In doing so, he clearly marks a boundary between the pornographic and the aesthetic.”[20]

Taking these definitions into account, Beardsley seems to engage and deny Kantian terms.  His drawings achieve a non-personality through depictions of a grotesque pornography—denying the viewer a spectacle—while still engaging in the personality of pornography—inviting the viewer into a spectacle.

The Toilette of Salome

An interesting example of Beardsley’s grotesquely pornographic drawings is the first version of The Toilette of Salome, later suppressed before publication (figure 4).  Although at first glance this drawing does not seem pornographic and scandalous, it engages in pornographic material, that of masturbation and self-gratification.  Salome is seated at her toilette while her androgynous/hermaphroditic servants help her to get ready. Scandalous literature, contemporary to Beardsley is stacked on her shelves.  But what is most surprising about this drawing is the boy who seems to be masturbating on the left hand side of the foreground.  His masturbation is furthered by the presence of the musician who seems to be watching (or possibly not watching) the seated, masturbating boy.  “Because he holds the instrument alongside and touching his body, the vibrations must be transmitted to his penis, allowing Beardsley to pun: the young man plays both on and with his ‘instrument.’”[21]  In addition to the masturbating servants to the left, Salome seems to be masturbating as well.

There is a stark contrast between the seated boy and Salome, even though both are in the act of masturbation.  The boy seems grotesque in the act.  His back is distorted; his body is elongated and emaciated; his arm that extends toward his penis is perpendicular to his body giving, resulting in a harshness of the act.  In addition, his hair consists of solid black, connecting him to the materiality of the other servants since each contains a solid black accent.

Salome on the other hand is voluptuous and sensual.  Her hand is gently placed between her legs, following the line of her legs, making her act a source for tenderness.  She is depicted unlike the figures in the drawing; she contains no solid black details, making her seem immaterial and fantasy-like.  By contrasting these two figures, it becomes apparent that Beardsley’s use of the grotesques enables him to deny and invite the viewer to watch.     

The role of the gaze is also important when discussing the pornographic aspects of The Toilette of Salome.  First, the fantastic creature preparing Salome’s hair wears a black mask, drawing attention to his/her gaze.  Because this gaze is highlighted, the viewer becomes aware of the pornographic gaze and is invited to stare.  Oppositely, since the eyes of the musician are turned downward, there is a strong ambiguity to the voyeuristic qualities of him/her.  Is s/he looking?  Is s/he looking away?  As a result, the viewer is not invited to gaze when looking at the figure of the masturbating boy.

By setting up a stark contrast between the masturbating boy and the masturbating Salome, Beardsley creates a paradox of visual (dis)pleasure.  He uses the grotesque imagery of everyday experience in the case of the boy to avert the eye of the viewer.  In contrast, he uses the fantasy image of Salome to invite to viewer’s gaze.  As a result, Beardsley engages in both psychic distance and enjoyment, in both art and pornography.

The Examination of the Herald and The Lacedemonian Ambassadors

Another one of Beardsley’s blatantly pornographically inspired drawing is his illustration The Examination of the Herald, which was published in Lysistrata (figure 5).  Up until now, the object of the gaze and of fetishization has been a female figure.  Although the object of the spectacle in the case of The Examination is male, Beardsley still depicts sexuality as embodying an ideal of grotesquerie, making the viewer experience voyeurism paradoxically.  Through the spectalization of the male genitals as well as the stark and grotesque contrasts between the two men, Beardsley incites the viewer to gaze as well as not gaze. 

Two men stand in a timeless, spacious void of whiteness.  One figure stands tall and youthful with an enlarged, erect penis, while the other stands hunched with a small, impotent penis.  The overt concentration on the penis is inspired undoubtedly by pornographic images of the time.  A good example of a pornographic image that shows a similar theme to Beardsley’s drawing is Antoine Borel’s title page to Parapilla (figure 6).  As seen in Borel’s drawing as well as Beardsley’s drawing, the enlarged penis is of vital importance, an object to be worshipped.  Beardsley makes a point of this through the characterization of the old man, through the delicate and loving caress with which he examines the penis.  He seems to be desiring the virility long lost from his limp penis.  The herald’s youthful penis is given preference in the drawing, since the tip of the herald’s penis is larger than the head of the old man.

Because the herald’s penis is so grossly disproportionate from the rest of his body, it becomes a fetishized spectacle, inviting the viewer to gaze in “awe” at the sheer volume of his genitals.  In contrast, the old man’s genitals also become a spectacle due to the fact that they are not like the herald’s.  In fact, his penis looks misshapen and sickly.  These differences between the men are furthered, first, by the age difference, and second, by the difference in the treatment of their legs—the herald’s are youthfully bare and smooth while the old man’s are covered with draped pants, mimicking wrinkles.  Therefore, the perversely deformed genitals of the two men become an invitation for the viewer to gaze upon—all of which are furthered by the age difference and visual differences between the two men.

While the visual differences are a source of spectacle for the viewer,[22] they are also a source of repulsion for the viewer.  The monstrosity of an inflated, swollen penis when compared to a shriveled, miniaturized penis is quite revolting when taking into consideration the average proportions of a male.

Another drawing Beardsley produced for Lysistrata follows a similar theme as The Examination.  This drawing is called The Lacedemonian Ambassadors (figure 7).  Instead of contrasting an enlarged erection to a small, impotent penis, The Ambassadors compares different body shapes with a variety of penis shapes.  Therefore, instead of establishing a spectacle through the use of a contrast, this drawing establishes a spectacle through the use of comparison, a comparison of virility. 

One of the most grotesque aspects of the drawing is the distortion of the penis, especially when considering the smallest figure on the left.  His erection is so overpowering that it takes over his entire demeanor.  The other grotesque figure on the right also seems to be motivated by his penis, his gait slightly moved forward by his genital region.  The middle figure is not portrayed with as much sexual tension and physical, facial distortion as the other figures, which can be connected to his androgynous face.[23]  Perhaps his lack of sexual fixation can be attributed to that fact.  In contrast to The Examination, The Ambassadors show spectacle within the differing shapes of erect penises as well as inflicts a sense of repulsion for the same reason—for the distortion of the human body.

  Conclusion/Summary

Whether portraying an image of fetishization or an image of pornography, when Beardsley introduces grotesqueries, the fetish/pornography takes on multiple interpretations.  Beardsley’s grotesque images of sexuality both invite the viewer into the gaze as well as repulse the viewer into not gazing.  By creating a contradictory experience within the viewer, Beardsley makes an “aesthetic of the grotesque,” a beauty of a shocking image.  He positions the viewer on shaking ground, in order to make the viewer not just digest the sensuality within his drawings.  He creates an uncanny image, both familiar and dissimilar, enticing and repulsive as a way to create distance and to incite thought.  This sadomasochism of applying pleasure and taking it away, in no doubt, fits into the Decadent period.  The question that remains is: what could he have done had he lived longer?

Bibliography

Beardsley, Aubrey.  The Collected Drawings of Aubrey Beardsley.  Ed.

     Bruce S. Harris.  New York: Bounty Books, 1967.

Benkovitz, Miriam J. Aubrey Beardsley: An Account of His Life.  New

     York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1981.

Bernheimer, Charles. “Fetishism and Decadence: Salome’s Severed

Heads.”  Fetishism as Cultural Discourse.  Ed. Emily Apter and William Pietz.  Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1993.

Freud, Sigmund.  Sexuality and the Psychology of Love.  Ed. Philip

     Rieff.  New York: Touchstone, 1963.

Pease, Allison.  Modernism, Mass Culture, and the Aesthetics of

     Obscenity.  Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Snodgrass, Chris.  Aubrey Beardsley: Dandy of the Grotesque.  New York

     and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995.

Weintraub, Stanley.  Aubrey Beardsley: Imp of the Perverse. 

University Park and London: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1976.

Zatlin, Linda Gertner.  Aubrey Beardsley and Victorian Sexual

      Politics. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.