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Windy City Times, July 2, 1992
Walking the Line with Herb Ritts and Joe Z.
Review by Philip Berger
Like many women, photography dealer Catherine Edelman feels strongly
about the manner in which male artists have misappropriated and exploited
the female form in myriad ways throughout the history of art. For these
reasons, the Catherine Edelman Gallery does not exhibit photographs of female
nudes. Edelman says that she will not contribute to the perpetuation of
what she refers to as the "male gaze."
Fortunately, Edelman has no similar compunction regarding the display
or sale of photographs depicting male nudes. This has enabled her to assemble
a show entitled "Men on Men II," images of male nudes by Herb
Ritts and Joe Ziolkowski, on view at the Edelman Gallery, 300 West Superior
Street, until July 16. As a result, she provides a forum for a consideration
of the various forms this subgenre takes. Granting a venue for this type
of work isn't an aberration for Edelman: the first "Men on Men"
show, mounted in 1988, featured photographs of men by Ziolkowski along with
John Reuter and Duane Michaels.
The 1988 exhibition was subtitled ". . . a look at male sexuality,"
but the current selection bears no such explanatory description. There
are, nevertheless, undeniable sexual overtones to all the works on exhibit.
This is largely due to the subject matter depicted-naked, attractive young
men. But are all such representations sexual? Is it merely human nature
or learned behavior to perceive any depiction of the unclad human form as
an expression of sexuality?
A friend of mine recently suggested that nude photographic material can
attain legitimacy through the context in which it is consumed. It may be
considered pornography if bought off the newsstand or seen at a peep show,
but something infinitely more acceptable if admired on the wall of a gallery.
"You'll gladly put Bruce Weber on your coffee table but you'll hide
Inches or Blueboy under the mattress," he quipped.
Some of the world's greatest works of art have a significant sexual content,
but even the unenlightened don't necessarily think of them as pornographic.
Yet photographs of naked people push different buttons, often bearing more
than a passing similarity to the type of materials found in an "adult"
bookstore. Pigeonholing photographic images of male nudes as "pornographic"
or "art" is an impossible task. Rather than trying to make such
distinctions, it is perhaps more accurate to suggest that such work exists
along a broad spectrum in its relation to sexuality and eroticism. The
current works by Ritts and Ziolkowski occupy different places along this
spectrum, and make for effective comparisons.
Herb Ritts is one of the world's most renowned photographers. His images
of celebrities in books and advertising (most notably his ubiquitous serious
of personality shots for The Gap) have earned him something akin to household
name status. Among living photographers, probably only Bruce Weber or perhaps
Annie Leibovitz are more widely recognized.
In addition to commercial success and popularity, Ritts' works have won
him a certain amount of eclat with the cognoscenti of the art world. His
celebrity portraits capture insight into personalities in ways that few
commercial lensmen have been able to achieve. Similarly, his nude studies
of both men and women (successfully packaged in a sumptuous two-volume slipcased
edition) have been acclaimed as leading examples of the form.
Ritts admits to the influence of figure studies by George Platt Lynes
and Edward Weston. But his photos of muscular young athletes by the seaside
recall nothing so much as the images on Greek vases which inspired the early
twentieth century work of the Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden at Taomina.
To my knowledge, Ritts does not identify himself as a gay artist, but
his work has a distinct gay sensibility. His well-known "Garage"
series, for example, features a group of garage mechanics with almost impossibly
well-defined, glistening torsos, engaged in a variety of tasks in an automotive
repair setting. Although the context sounds erotically neutral, these works
contain an indisputable sexuality. The mode of the models' dress (how many
mechanics do you know who wear coveralls with one strap undone, revealing
they are wearing nothing underneath?), the vocational associations (few
occupations are as conventionally "butch" as auto mechanics' work)
and the setting (consider the number of porn flicks that take place in garages)
all help create a scintillating gay sexual fantasy.
Ritts' choice of subject matter for this exhibition, then, comes as no
surprise. His photos of former Mr. Universe Bob Paris and his husband,
Rod Jackson, are not coincidentally also the subject of his latest book
of photographs, Duo (eminently suitable-and certainly intended-for coffee
table placement). The photos of Paris and Jackson are in many respects
beautiful images: double portraits of two spectacularly endowed bodybuilders
whose body parts (presumably steroid-enhanced) intertwine and enmesh in
ways that in some respects suggest erotic abandon; in others, they become
sheer abstractions in the style of Edward Weston.
As pretty as they are, there's something that's almost annoying about
many of these photos. Part of it may be this writer's bias resulting from
the overexposure of Paris and Jackson in the media. I can't look at the
photos without their smarmy, full-of-themselves, aren't-we-the-paragons-of-something-that-you're-not
personalities coming through. But the sense of disturbance comes more from
the images themselves. The pumped-up pecs, glutes, bi-, tri-, and quadriceps
that pop off the pages ultimately lose any connection with the human form,
and take on the quality of an inflated plastic air mattress.
To be fair, some of the pieces are arresting and provocative. The signature
image of the couple embracing, heads together, with Jackson's flowing blond
mane arrayed in such a manner that it is almost impossible to tell whose
body belongs to whom, paints a portrait of a duo possessing a bond of enormous
strength, beauty power-a symbol of a committed and unshakable relationship.
Yet on the whole, the Duo series is a disappointment in the continuum of
a master photographer's oeuvre; as an ardent admirer of Ritts' work, I hope
this is merely a temporary diversion.
The newest photos by Joe Ziolkowski, by contrast, indicate an ongoing
personal exploration into themes that embody depth, emotionalism and visual
grace. They show how he continues to grow as an artist and a thinker.
Ziolkowski, known colloquially as Joe Z., studied at Southern Illinois
University at Carbondale and the School of the Art Institute. Citing the
influence of such photographers as Duane Michals, Edward Weston and Minor
White ("the first gay photographer whose work I was exposed to"),
Joe Z. has employed images of the nude male to convey his own emotional
state. Although he's using the male form as a vehicle, Joe Z. will tell
you he's really photographing the human spirit. "If I had to make
a distinction between my work and Herb Ritts'," he says, "I'd
say that he shoots only exteriors while I shoot interiors."
Indeed, Joe Z.'s images, primarily of lean young men posed in a variety
of contortion-like manners, are intended to portray a range of emotions,
including grief, pleasure, joy and pain. What comes out of a photo session,
says Joe. Z., depends on how he-and his model-are feeling at the time.
The emotionality of the process is what renders it powerful, he says. "The
photo shoot is something we (he and his model) share. The photos are the
things left over."
Intriguingly, Joe Z. says his work isn't intended to be erotic. Yet
it deals with some fairly potent sexual issues, most of which relation specifically
to gay life and culture. Many of the pieces he's done over the last decade-the
Numbered series-deal with the suspense and tension related to waiting for
HIV test results. Bodies suspended from cables, teetering on tightropes
and walking gangplanks all graphically and eloquently describe the emotions
experienced in that process. His figures become choreographed, dancing
gymnasts floating against the white background of infinity. Although the
emotions presented may be somewhat downbeat, the ethereal quality to the
images ultimately suggests elation and hope.
In marked contrast are a new series of images he's entitled the "Pressure"
photographs. In them, the contorted bodies are pressed up against a glass
pane in front of a black ground, suggesting darkness, oppression and perhaps
a bit of emotional torture. Joe Z. says that this brooding, ominous work
is in part a reaction to the number of deaths he's experienced with friends,
many of whom were his models; despite its negative emotional associations,
it indicates a positive and exciting direction for his work.
Also new for Joe Z. is an upcoming publication of his work: Walking
the Line, due out in the fall from German publisher Bruno Gmunder. The
Gmunder publishing house is known for numerous publications featuring male
nudes, occupying several places along the spectrum from "art"
to "pornography," but one suspects even the casual observer will
note that Walking the Line should assume its own distinct position.
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