Week 2 baby! We’re diving right in.
I’ve been thinking a lot about nakedness in art this year, specifically nakedness in self-portraiture, and why it’s so compelling (to create, not to look at). I’ve taken a handful of self-portraits (which I loosely define for myself as a picture I took, completely alone, of myself, in an attempt to explore something deeper than how good I looked that day) every year since my freshman year of college. The first one that represented me in any sort of nakedness, I made this June, after a camping trip to central Washington, where my back got absolutely scorched.
After getting out of the shower, I looked over my shoulder in the mirror to assess the damage, and immediately felt that nagging, unavoidable, “does it have to be right now? oh okay” creative spark. I had to make the picture. If it was someone else’s back, I’d want the picture. I’d also be too afraid to ask, so how lucky was I that it was my back that was burned :)
I set up the tripod and the remote shutter and the flash and started clicking with my back straight and head toward the closet. As I held the towel, I started thinking about the contrapposto in greek sculptures, and how the impossible marble robes would slip just enough. At first just documentation of a bad burn, this image became also a coming to terms moment with a body that had changed and grown and betrayed me in the last few years. What used to feel light and agile, now felt softer and heavier and harder to love, despite my best efforts.
To take a photograph is a very honoring act for me, and I was surprised to find that honor extended to even the most difficult relationship I have with myself. When I look at that photo, I see someone else’s back. A woman, any woman, someone that I saw, and asked “may I?”, and she said yes. I see this stranger’s back that I thought was interesting enough to photograph, and a piece of that old love is restored.
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Now, you can take naked self-portraits for any number of reasons, not just as a peace offering to a body you’ve spent too much time critiquing. Nakedness feels pure, timeless, in some contexts, innocent. If you aim to capture the essence of your own being, even your most lived-in clothes can feel like a lie.
Maybe nakedness feels true because it shows yourself as you are when you’re alone, and therefore most authentic, even if just briefly, in the moments washing your hair in the shower or changing into new clothes for the day. Maybe capturing your own nakedness reflects to you who you are in front of a lover, a certain vulnerability, or a certain excitement. Maybe it reminds you of who you were as a child, wild and unashamed.
I began forming concrete thoughts on naked imagery after re-watching Bo Burnham’s INSIDE (yes, this is my second reference to this film in two newsletters. and I’ll do it again!). In Bo’s fifth “comedy special”, he spends significant time in various states of undress, and I found myself connecting to it in ways I don’t typically feel looking at male, nude self-portraiture.
He touched on his struggles with depression, loneliness, aging, sex, existential dread, etc., which each seemed to change my perception of his nakedness. It might be reasonable to sum up his lack of clothes to “the whole film was about being stuck in his house. of course he’s walking around half-naked, we all are”, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to presume a deeper meaning to this choice. As he becomes more unable to provide himself some of the most basic human needs, and as he spirals in his fears about where humanity is heading as a whole, he also becomes increasingly naked, that is to say, increasingly primal(? original? god, what’s the word I’m looking for).
At times his nudity feels empowering, or at least freeing. Other times, like this arresting moment toward the end of his journey, where the spotlight frames just enough that for a second you think “oh my god is he taking a shit?”, it feels embarrassing, chilling, pathetic, humiliating, deeply deeply human.
Bo uses his nakedness to simultaneously intensify feelings of existential dread, and provide comic relief. The honest combination of these elements leaves me feeling grounded and validated in my fears with every watch.
I hope that in making this film, in all its naked glory, Bo too found a way to make peace with himself.
This week’s card is the Lovers, one of my personal favorites, because it rules Gemini :) The first of a few rare cards in the deck to depict naked people, the Lovers represents an awakening, a rejection of childhood obedience and innocence, the first attempt at true individuality, the melding of conscious and subconscious into superconscious, harmonious relationships, and of course love. It demands vulnerability and honesty. It invites you to come as you are, and value and accept others for all that they are.
Until next week,
(go take some nudes!)
Jordan