NUDE: The Naked Body in Contemporary Photography
Carlota Guerrero
SZA whispers “Sh-sh-shame, sh-sh-shame on you” from concealed speakers as I step into the dark fifth floor of Fotografiska. Hallways of nude photography are dimly lit in an otherwise blacked out room, giving the space a sense of privacy that is rare to find in Midtown. This feeling quickly dissipates as I walk through the halls observing each skin-filled photograph, feeling instead like an outsider looking into someone’s intimate moments, their privacy. The composition of each nude photograph is unique but they all bear one thing in common: a welcomed absence of the male gaze.
NUDE: The Naked Body in Contemporary Photography showcases “30 female-identifying artists from 20 different countries” who use naked bodies—typically female bodies—to explore the human carriage at its most beautiful, reticent, and at times, grim.
Angélica Dass
An entire wall is covered in portraits of people of all ages who are unclothed from the shoulders up. Their complexions match a nude, Pantone-colored background, creating a checkered pattern where no two squares, or individuals, are the same. The collection, Humanæ, was photographed by Brazilian artist Angélica Dass whose purpose was to challenge our associations of race with the plain descriptors “black” and “white”. By showing the wide variety of colors that human beings possess, Dass suggests that our only human difference—physical diversity—is as unifying as it is unique. While Humanæ does not contain any explicit nudity or sexual themes, the photographs of young and old people from 20 countries around the world show that stripped down to its nakedness, the unique, flesh color of a body brightly compliments its very purpose—life.
Lina Scheynius
Further down, artist Lina Scheynius displays photos that offer another perspective of nudity: function. The wall is covered in photographs of varying sizes, depicting the story of love and creation. On the far left side (not pictured), a nude male and nude female sit in their own frames next to a close-up of a crying eye. In the top left corner (pictured), they are in bed together. Then, a used condom before a streak of light bisects a female crotch. The largest and most striking photo in the series is one of a woman’s pregnant belly, the end product of the two bodies’ meeting and copulation. I had an experience of déjà vu seeing a few of these photographs, quickly realizing that I’ve been seeing Scheynius’s work float around Tumblr, uncredited, for years. This specific collection, Diary, is popular on art blogs and within softcore aesthetic communities, namely those that intersect with the body positivity movement. Scheynius’s propensity for reaching into the depths of womanhood and pulling out the most precious, shared experiences has supremely charmed both the internet and curators at Fotografiska.
In the middle of the floor is the most emotionally charged collection—Jenevieve Aken’s Sanctuary. A series of black and white nude self-portraits, Sanctuary portrays the spirit of Elvira Orlandini, an Italian woman who was brutally raped and murdered in 1947. The men responsible were never found. Aken, a Nigerian artist whose work largely focuses on identity and gender, poses her own body in various locations, from outside in the dirt to the top of a grand staircase, draped in pearls and roses. Sanctuary was my favorite series of the exhibit (which does not by any means diminish the beauty and brilliance of every artist on display). In one photo, Aken poses with her naked back to the camera, her exposed rear and calves caked in white mud. This was perhaps the most jarring of the photos, as it brings the viewer the closest to Elvira Orlandini’s condition at the time of her death. My heart ached as I observed each photo, her rigid limbs, and forlorn gaze, the latter often meeting the camera. Aken brings to the forefront an unpleasant theorem of the female body—inevitable violence. Elvira’s spirit continues to haunt the forest and village, for her injustice, and for the injustices committed against women every day that are forgotten and even worse, silenced.
Jenevieve Aken
Jenevieve Aken
As I’m making my way through the final photographs in the exhibit, an attendant announces that it’s eight minutes until closing. I squeeze my way into a crowded elevator with three other museum-goers who are clutching empty wine glasses. They laugh and muse about the exhibit and their drunkenness, and how sweetly the two combined. My brain is filled with images—breasts, legs, bellies, eyes, cloth, metal, plastic. Outside, thick winter jackets and masked faces bustle about, bodies clothed out of protection and shame. I make a note to come revisit the museum when it’s warmer, sans layers.
NUDE: The Naked Body in Contemporary Photography is on view at Fotografiska New York through May 1, 2022.