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JOEL-PETER WITKIN |
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a
saint in the morgue |
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From the seventies onwards, the star of Joel-Peter Witkin (° 1939
in New York) is constantly rising. His works are bought by renown
museums and galleries all over the world, one photo book after another is
published, and his photos are spread all over the internet. Meanwhile, he
is considered as one of the leading photographers of the second half of
the twentieth century. Witkin's success is all the more remarkable,
since his subject matter is not precisely charming, although his works
are widely praised because of their artistic merits.
Reasons enough to have a closer look at the oeuvre of this artist, who
is approaching the seventies.
THE PHOTOGRAPHER IN THE MUSEUM
It immediately catches the eye, then, that this photographer only
hesitatingly inscribes himself in the history of photography. Few are
his references to other photographers. On the one hand, he contrast his
own 'strange people' with Helmut Newton's 'very interesting photographs
of beautiful people'*. On the other hand, he situates himself in the
tradition of Diane Arbus* after whose example some of his photographs
are conceived - think of "Man with Dog" after Arbus' "Naked Man Being a
Woman" (1968).
With all the more emphasis, Joel-Peter Witkin eagerly inscribes
himself in the history of painting. To begin with, it is painters from
whom Witkin pretends to draw his inspiration: Bosch, Greco, Goya en
Blake. I must confess that I do not precisely understand why: apart from
superficial similarities in subject matter, the relation with the spirit of these masters
is not at all evident. Further, many of Joel-Peter Witkins photos are
made after paintings of renown old masters like Botticelli,
Raphael,
Rubens, Velasquez, Goya, Géricault, Odilon Redon and Seurat. And,
finally, the majority of his photos are not mere copies of 'found reality',
but rather emphatically staged dramas, just like many traditional paintings.
But, otherwise than good painters, who knew to brush away the
artificial pose of their models, Witkin rather seems to cherish the
often artificial character of a 'tableau vivant': perhaps because such 'staged
photography' looks more 'artsy' than true to nature snapshots.
But precisely such flirting with painting betrays the photographer in Witkin. From the very beginning of photography, photographers, in their
endeavour to lend their art the status of true art, have drawn their
inspiration from painting. From the eighties onwards, such 'pictorialism'
takes the form of 'references': think of the photographed staging of
classic paintings by figures like Larry Fink. Such' referring' is
itself borrowed from the traditional art scene, where 'referring' was
endemic in the post-modern era. With the same intention: activities
that were - justifiably (see 'Mimesis and Art')
- denied the status of art, were eager to adorn their works with
the aura of the masters in the museums. Just think of Jan Fabre, who deems
it sufficient to refer to Jeroen Bosch's 'Heaven of Delight' to elevate
his purely decorative 'Heaven of
Delight' to the rank of genuine art works like the Sistine Chapel.
THE RELENTLESS EXPANSION OF THE SADOMASOCHISTIC UNIVERSE
Never give all the heart...
Yeats
Joel-Peter Witkin has not only the referencing in
common with the official art scene, but also the obsession with
transgression. The trend was set
centuries ago with the introduction of subjects like the erotic nude or
the horrors of war (Goya). Already more audacious was the depiction of
ugly or nubile bodies (Schiele, Rodin) and of more perverse forms of
sexuality (think of the drawings of Rops and Bellmer's doll). From the
sixties onwards, the darker domains or sadomasochism
and self mutilation
are disclosed - think of the Wiener Actionists and figures like
Marina Abramovic. Less public media,
like prints and photography, have
always been ahead in such matters. But also within the realm of
photography, there is an hierarchy between 'common'
and 'artistic'
photography. While, under the counter, already in the second half of the
nineteenth century practically the whole spectrum of perversity is
covered, it is only in the beginning of the twentieth century that the
nude becomes respectable in artistic photography. For more perverse
subjects, we have to wait until after World War I (think of the photos
of Bellmer and Molinier). In the galleries, subjects like homosexuality
appear only in the seventies: think of Mapplethorpe
and David Wojnarowicz, and of Andres Serrano's the photos of corpses and
blasphemic representations like his
"Piss Christ" (1989). With Witkin,
also the whole domain of sadomasochism, which already flourished in the
punk and gothic scenes of the seventies (see, among others,
Santerinos,
Griffeth), finds its way to
galleries and museums.
Witkin felt predestined to play this role. With predilection, he refers
to a childhood memory that - many are those who prefer to hide their
choices behind determinants of all kinds - would have been
decisive for his later work; a car accident that occurred in front of
his house in which a little girl was decapitated. 'No wonder',
then, that, as a young boy, he began to collect
articles on
mental illness, atrocities, and
misfits. As a teenager, he proceeded to make photographs of a
three-legged dwarf for his painting twin brother. During his military
service, he had to make photos of soldiers who died in accidents, during
manoeuvres or through suicide. Things come to their apogee when he
marries the tattoo artist Cynthia in 1978.
And in his first official photos
in the second half of the seventies, we
cannot fail to
stumble on all the paraphernalia of the SM-scene: hoods, masks, leather,
whips, spiked shoes and pointy sticks. Suffices it to refer to 'Pin up'
(1975), 'Indulgences' (1976), 'Mother and Child' (1979), 'Penitente'
(1982), 'Testicle stretch with the possibility of a crushed face'
(1982), en "Choice of Outfits for the Agonies of Mary" (1984).
The theme remains a constant throughout his entire oeuvre - think only
of 'Apollonia and Dominatrix' (1988).
But, judging from his famous
advertisement from 1985, he increasingly becomes interested in ''Pinheads,
dwarfs, giants, hunchbacks, pre-op transsexuals, bearded women, people
with tails, horns, wings, reversed hands or feet, anyone born without
arms, legs, eyes, breast, genitals, ears, nose, lips. All people with
unusually large genitals. All manner of extreme visual perversion.
Hermaphrodites and teratoids (alive and dead). Anyone bearing the wounds
of Christ').'
No doubt, these are people who are deprived by Mother Nature. But
the reference to the wounds of Christ betrays that we are dealing with
an endeavour to mask the breakthrough of sadistic impulses. That
goes especially for the transsexuals, who have to submit themselves to
all kinds of painful surgery. And that only hints to the true nature of
the pleasure derived from looking at people without arms, legs, eyes,
breast, genitals, ears, nose, lips. To the narcissistic triumph that every
well endowed experiences at the sight of these victims of the roulette
of the genes or of accidents, is added the relish in the traces of
deformation (read as mutilation) - especially since the role of the
(overt) sadist can be
relegated to impersonal fate, if not to God
himself. For, according to Celant, Witkin considers 'freaks as the
manifestation of something exceptional and extraordinary: the infinite
will of God'****.
The true nature of Witkin's urge becomes apparent when, from the
eighties onwards, he enters the
morgue. Only in the realm of the death can the
sadistic undertaking surpass the reality of the SM-room (see 'The
sacrifice of beauty'). In the morgue, the sadistic urge is no
longer frustrated through the barrier of death: accidents, murder and
autopsy can now become the uncensored successors of the roulette of the
genes, which, after all, has to content itself
with the creation of viable
creatures. We can only agree with Cintra Wilson, hence, when she writes:
'I
think Joel-Peter Witkin is a true, born pervert'.
A SAINT IN THE MORGUE
Remarkably enough, that is not the way in which his interpreters want
to understand Witkin's subject matter.
Some, like Germano Celant and Christian Palmer, prefer to
praise his laudable endeavour to lift the reigning taboo on deformation,
illness, suffering and death: 'The freak or the handicapped person must
not be ostracised'. And in the same vein, Witkin is talking about
'the
love and courage it takes to find wonder and beauty in people who are
considered by society to be damaged, unclean, dysfunctional or wretched.
My art is the way I perceive and define life. It is sacred work, since
what I make are my prayers.** To stress the respectability of his
proceeding, he denies any
link to SM,
and emphasises that he is interested in 'self-awareness': 'I don't
photograph anyone who likes pain, only people who use it for their
self-awareness. I have been approached by sadists who wanted me to
photograph people they torture, but I refused, because I don't like
their purpose' * And - apparently, there is something to hide here
- Witkin has still another justification in petto: he describes himself as "loving
the unloved, the damaged, the outcasts," (interview in Vanity Fair).
Keith Seward goes even so far as to compare Witkin with Saint Francis '
who drank the pus of lepers in order to overcome his repulsion of them'.***.
Or: how, in the end, sadomasochistic pleasure is turned into
its very
opposite:
'I try to imbue compassion into my images'* No sadism, hence, but
love...
Witkin's images tell another story:
just try to read the quotations above
with images like 'Melvin Burkhart: Human Oddity' (1985) or 'Severed leg
- Weathervane" (2004) before your eyes. The statements of Joel-Peter Witkin, wrapped in a more philosophical dress through his apologists,
have rather something
of the emphatic denials of nudists and naturists
that their nudity has something to do with
'sexual lust' (see 'Spencer
Tunick'). The ambivalence is apparent in the following passage,
where Witkin, talking of ' 'Testicle stretch with the possibility of a
crushed face' (1982) - one of the daring acts in SM-rooms - first
denies that there is talk of pain, and then
continues with declaring that
he identifies with.... the pain: 'He is in ecstasy. It's a form of
meditation, there is no pain (...). I'm fascinated by it'* In the same
breath, sadistic pleasure is re-interpreted as Christian compassion. 'This
person gives me the opportunity to witness the event, but also, in a
religious sense, to share in it. Not that I live through it in body and
mind, as he does - but in a sense I go through his pain'...
As if
Nietzsche and Freud had never existed...
Like so many
others, who have to struggle against sadistic urges, also Witkin has a
bent towards mysticism. He travelled to India to learn yoga and
believes in extraterrestrials. But, after
a long journey in the realm of the gods, he finally dedicates himself
to the Christian faith of his mother:
presumably the only way
'to give
sense to one's life'. And he adds: 'I know that I will be remembered as a
Christian artist' (Borhan).
No sadism, hence, but love, and Witkin no sinner, but rather a saint.
Nevertheless, the repressed returns also here. In his fervour to appeal to
religious examples, Joel-Peter Witkin identifies himself with...
Longinus: 'the Roman Centurion, who, in
an act of mercy, pierced the side of Christ during the crucifixion.' The
figure of the saint is only of the many disguises of the 'elusive
sadist'
PAINTING...
'El hombre involuciona y con él
evoluciona su embrutecimiento
y sus mecanismos para aniquilarlo todo'.
El viandante en
'Como lentas aves'
Vladimir
García
Morales
The above sheds also another light on the emphasis with which Witkin
seeks to inscribe himself in the tradition of painting. He does not
restrict himself to referring to works of great artists. Countless are
his attempts to lend his photos an artistic character. During the
development of his photos, he uses chemicals to obtain diverse brownish
tints. Many of his prints are processed with coffee, tea and other
pigments like selenium. Sometimes Witkin smears them with wax that is
heated and polished, 'which resulted in a silvery, found-antique'. It
reminds me of children who try to give their maps of treasure island
the look of parchment through drenching them in coffee. In that respect,
the trend is completed through Mustafa Horasan who executes Witkin's photos
with genuine paint on a genuine canvas.
The desire to be considered as a real artist does not suffice to explain
such an obsession with painting. The oldest 'artsy' interventions of
Joel-Peter Witkin consist of scratching the negative with razor blades.
It is not difficult, then, to discover the deeper meaning of the
smearing with pigments and wax: a 'sanctification' of the sadistic
scratching.
And that goes also for the emphasis with which Witkin 'composes" his
photos. We cannot but be reminded of the equally clumsy and obsessive
symmetry that Molinier imposes on his assemblages of limbs: composition
not so much as a kind of straitjacket that has to contain otherwise
uncontrollable impulses, but rather as a kind of manoeuvre that has to
ensure that the gaze is not diverted from the horror. Does Witkin himself
not declare: 'Even if you want to say No to the subject matter, its
rendering is so beautiful that you just might say: Yes!'* 'Composition',
hence, as a particular variant of the more general abuse of 'art' as
permit for all kinds of transgression.
Only against this background do we understand why
the first references to paintings from the classical tradition appear in
the eighties: after Witkin's entrance in the morgue. As if this step
could only be taken when disguised as a step in the museum.
Witkin's references teach us
also something else. For, on closer view, we are not dealing here with
tributes, let alone with demonstrations of superior mastery
- the way in which real artists used to 'refer' in olden times - just
think of Titian's 'comment' on Giorgion's 'Sleeping Venus'.
No, just like scores of other 'post-modern' references, those of Witkin
rather partake of the gesture with which Duchamp painted a moustache on
da Vinci's Mona Lisa - not to mention his
suggestion to use a Rembrandt as ironing board: the debasing and
banalising of art by the impotent or uncultivated. It suffices to study
some of the more elaborated examples. We already mentioned the
ridiculous 'Birth of Venus'(1988). Everything that makes Botticelli's
creation to a masterpiece is turned into its opposite, without any
significant plus value. Sheer blasphemy - if
not sadistic destruction of beauty. The same goes for 'The three Graces' (1988).
With the sole difference that the whole is now
underpinned with a new pseudo-profound dimension through the addition of
a predella with a work of Witkin's. Such an addition is not only
pseudo-profound (I leave it to the commentators to reveal the deeper
meaning), but also utterly un-artistic,
because purely allegorical. And parasitary at that: because they owe
their meaning only to more respectable ancestors. In
'Studio of the Painter Courbet' (1990), the banalising and desacralising
goes hidden behind a historical antecedent: the then understandable
gesture with which Courbet introduced the real world. With Witkin, this
gesture is turned into its very opposite: he
takes the place of Courbet, and his Cynthia that of the model. Such
banalising shows its true face when Witkin proceeds to Witkinise (think
of Lichtenstein) one of the greatest masterpieces in the history of art
in his 'Las Meninas' (1987). The genius himself takes the place of the
master, and corpses that of the breathtaking beauty of Velasquez'
Meninas. Such debasing usurpation tells the whole truth about Witkin's
references: not more nor less than the old strategy of our primate
ancestors to climb the ladder by associating with the alphas. With the
sole difference that it is the underdogs who impose
themselves and thus bereave the alphas of their legitimate prestige.
And more fundamentally: Witkin's 'reference comes down to the
blunt sadistic 'deconstruction' of beauty...
Not only a saint in the morgue, hence, but above all
a Beotian on the Parnassus.
.
...OR PHOTOGRAPHY?
The above should not make us blind for the fact that Witkin's works
stand or fall with their status as photography. For, although, on first
glance, it is above all the 'staged' and 'artsy'
character of this photography which attracts
the attention, the
chocking effect depends primarily on the fact that, dead or
alive, it is real humans that are photographed by Witkin, and not
merely self created beings conjured up on the canvas, like those of Bacon
(who merely let himself inspire by photos). In this respect, Witkin
turns out to be not so much a 'pictorialist', as rather the very
counterpart of it: someone who conceives the photo as a document - the
un-artistic 'imitation' of reality...
Although he pushes the boundaries of documentation by resorting to
corpses for his staging of pain, making
'reality' even more
cruel. That is not an innocent intervention like that of Capa's 'falling
soldier': this scene could have been real. With Joel-Peter Witkin, on
the other hand, we are dealing with scenes that cannot be real -
although, if real, they would embody the wet dream of many a SM-adept,
who precisely therefore kicks on the 'documentary' character of
such
images.
And that lifts also the final veils in which Wiktin has wrapped his
creations: the 'aesthetic distance' turns out to be a mere
loincloth over a nearly disguised engagement - the Kantian
'interest' - in the proceedings that are rendered true to nature. 'Nature'
itself would do better, were it not for the constraints that the
civilised world is supposed to have imposed on the treatment of human
beings... In that
respect,
Nitsch, with his 'Orgien Mysterien Theater' is
far more consequent, even when he had to pay a price for it: whereas, in
the mimetic dimension, Witkin could stage the most unbridled
sadomasochistic orgies through the use of corpses, in the real world,
Nitsch had to content himself with the sacrifice of mere animals.
ARTIST?
No saint, then, but sadist. No painter, but documentary photographer. A
great artist perhaps?
Again, we should no be misled by appearances. To begin with, even
Witkin's most fervent aficionados will have to admit that his
oeuvre is rather one-sided, if not monomaniacal. Formerly, artists used to
be judged from the multifacetedness of their oeuvre, as well from the
point of view of subject matter, as from the technical point of view.
During the twentieth century, the market has decided
otherwise: increasingly, artists become brands, and their works logos:
just think of Jan Fabre's beetles or of
Luc Tuymans' washed-out
palette - and
that phenomenon announced itself already with
Mondrian, Rothko or the late Bacon.
You can recognise them from miles away. Not like you recognise a Shakespeare, a Mozart or a Rubens - as
the one
single spirit that hovers over countless waters - but like you recognise
a brand: by the flag, not by the freight. The artwork as logo. That goes
especially for Witkin. There is nearly no development in his oeuvre, not
formally, not contentually.
The work of Witkin suffers from more shortcomings. We already discussed
the deeper meaning of Witkin's widely praised compositions. Let us now
have a look at them from an artistic point of view. As long as Witkin
handles only one figure or body part, he occasionally makes stronger
photos like 'Story from a book' (1998). But, paradoxically enough, Witkin seems to have more problems when he has to combine more elements.
Paradoxically enough: because precisely the staging of photos opens
possibilities that are out of reach for the photographer of found
reality. Nevertheless, Witkin seldom succeeds in composing an organic
whole - or, which comes down to the same: to make the anorganic really
anorganic: his compositions always partake of the artificial character
of tableau vivants or photo collages. That is not so conspicuous in his
still lives. But, in his compositions of human figures, he mostly makes
a poor show - especially when, in addition,
he paraphrases paintings,
like in the bluntly ridiculous 'Gods of Earth and Heaven' (1988)
after Botticelli's 'Birth of Venus'. Not to mention 'John Herring posing
as Flora' where an aids patient appears on a cloud 'in order to show his
elevation above life and existence', without however really coming off
the ground. 'Artsy', to be sure. But great art? No!
Whatever merit Witkin's work might have from a formal point of view is
spoilt by the content. Everybody is absolutely free in the choice of his
subject matter. But the critic is also free in making a judgment. And
when I have to choose between sadism sold as compassion, and
the crude variant, I choose for the latter: a pure question of truth. In
this respect, photos of say a Goran Bertok are far more outstanding than
those of Witkin, were it alone for the fact that his images are
unadulterated photos, and not documents in the guise of paintings, like
those of Witkin:
And in no less uncertain
terms do they indulge in the dark charms of the
sadistic greed.
Although we should also question the truth of the sadomasochistic
enterprise itself. For, it should not escape our attention that, from
Sade onwards, the sadist is - preferably philosophically - elusive.
Nietzsche and Freud lifted the first veils. But, in the work of George
Bataille, the philosophical reinterpretation celebrates new triumphs:
Witkin's saint is only an afterglow of Batailles sacrality, diluted with
some Christianity, not otherwise than the priest, who, in
Nitsch 'orgien
mysterien Theater' wraps the slaughter in ritual clothes.
The question remains whether Joel-Peter Witkin will be reminded as an
artist, let alone a Christian. As far as I am concerned, he should
above all survive as a document: as a typical
representative of the SM-epoch of the
eighties - not by accident the period in which the so-called 'Great
Stories' were abandoned, only to leave room for neo-liberalism, an
outdated forerunner - or worse still: for a return of the Gods who -
despite Nietzsche - seem to be alive and well.
©
Stefan Beyst,
January 2007
For a similar case, see 'Paul McCarthy'
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BORHAN, Pierre and WITKIN Joel-Peter: 'Disciple
and Master', Fotofolio, 2000.
BUCK, Chris and Alevizakis, Christine: 'Interview
Joel-Peter Witkin"
****CELANT, Germano: 'Joel-Peter Witkin", Scalo, 1995.
*HORVAT, Frank: 'Interview
with Joel-Peter Witkin'
PALMER, Christa:
'A History of Truth"
MARGARET REGAN: 'Turning
a Prophet', Tucson Weekling, Februari 1, 2001.
***SEWARD, Keith: "Joel-Peter Witkin - exhibit" ArtForum, Summer, 1993
**WILSON, Cintra:
Joel-Peter Witkin
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