TITLE    : Clothing and the Nude
STORYID  : clothing-and-the-nude
SUMMARY  : Part 2 of "The Shemale As a Figure In Art".
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2006-09-09
CATEGORY : reviews-and-essays
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |shemale|hermaphrodite|clothes|clothing|history|historical essay|transvestite|transsexual|art history|erotica|


In The Erotic Eye and the Erotic Senses, Stefan Beyst observes that various gestures and poses have been designed to display parts of the body that would remain otherwise unseen. Erotic art is a striptease, he points out, in which, sometimes, nudity is revealed to oneself, as in a mirror. Whereas, at other times, an observer gazes upon the nude. When the nude is also his or her own observer, he or she becomes both the observer and the observed, the voyeur and the exhibitionist.



Clothing allows a person to play hide and seek with an observer, and the removal of various items of clothing enhance the exhibition of more intimate body parts that follows, Beyst suggests for example, the removal of the panties, he says, is "a mere prelude to the full exposure of the nude." Clothing, he maintains, is not "meant to conceal nakedness," but is "intended to cover nudity." Because the more intimate body parts are usually revealed last, if at all, exposing them while keeping the less intimate parts covered can be very erotic, Beyst argues, as "the latter regain their appeal precisely because they are now concealed." It is also erotic to contrast a fully clothed body with a nude body, he suggests. He contends that "too drastic" a display of the more intimate body parts has "a reverse effect," especially when the genitals are suddenly thrust upon the viewer, a display that, because of its suddenness, is apt to provoke disgust rather than appreciation. Instead, the artist must, as it were, lead up to this ultimate display: "Only when the onlooker has been previously turned on by the sight of more peripheral parts is the eye prepared to enjoy the sight of the genitals."



Contrast, as always, enhances the display of nudity, Beyst asserts, as does the gradual exposure of the body. The wearing of layers of clothing prolongs the moment of revelation, making it more effective and more intense when it finally occurs, especially if the layers differ from one another in color and type of fabric. It is preferable that underwear be hinted at, by having it "peek out from beneath an outer layer, such as the cuffs of sleeves," by having "the ribbons or the edges of the bra" show, or by ensuring that "the outline of the underwear" appears "through semi-transparent fabric, or its relief may show through a tight-fitting dress."



Until recently, Beyst points out, women's underwear consisted of a modest, one-piece chemise, but this single garment has since been replaced by "specialized" undergarments of "many parts: underpants, garter belts, corsets, and bras," allowing a piece-by-piece unveiling of the feminine form so that "undressing develops into a continuous metamorphosis. In every stage of its unfolding, a new erotic appearance with its own merits is revealed." This specialization of female underwear has also led to a "new kind of intermediary stage between clad and nude: the body clad in a swimsuit or lingerie." This "intermediate stage" has also made it possible to interpose a "shortcut" between the fully clothed and the nude body in which, for example, a shirt can be worn "without a slip underneath" or a woman may appear "completely naked underneath a thick fur coat."



The interplay of clothing and nudity allows artists to combine the two in suggestive fashions, Beyst declares, by showing wind blowing "against his body," having "water make the fabric cling to it . . . cutting up the fabric so that it comes to court more intimately the shape of the body, " or depicting "additional elasticity" that "makes the dress perfectly court the undulations of the body that was supposed to conceal, as with tight-knitted dresses, nylon stockings and latex," and, he notes, "The covering is shortcut altogether when the fabric itself is transparent."



Although "make-up, epilating and shaving, cosmetic surgery, the use of all kind of prostheses, wigs, false eyelashes," and other devices are, like clothing, intended to enhance the beauty of women, clothing differs from these items in that it is put on to be removed, Beyst says: "To be sure, some of these artifices can be laid off like clothes: think of make-up, a set of dentures or a wig, but their removal only lays bare hidden shortcomings instead of hidden charms. The difference is between objectively adding to the beauty or concealing shortcomings on the one hand, and subjectively increasing the erotic appeal on the other hand." Clothing has charm precisely because it can be removed, he suggests: "The charm of well-fitting trousers resides in opening the zipper, the charm of a blouse in its unbuttoning, the secret of the corset in its unlacing, the appeal of the bra in its undoing," adding "one could write a whole erotica on zippers, buttons, hooks, ribbons and laces." It is also erotic to leave part of a shirt or blouse unbuttoned or to leave a zipper unzipped, he asserts, because "such seeming dishevelment betrays an overall readiness or helps to conjure it up."



Beyst contends that there is a "natural 'transsexuality' in the sense that characteristics which, in a given culture, are supposed to be male or female, tend to be rather randomly distributed over genetically male of female beings" that enhances erotica. Traditionally male attire, he argues, enhances "female attractiveness," and "this is all the more so when what seemed to be a man turns out to be a woman." In fact, he further claims, "when there is a sufficient initial natural ambivalence, the wearing of clothes of the opposite sex can become a means of acquiring a new body." Male transvestites wear women's clothing, he says, because of an exhibitionistic impulse to draw attention to his own beauty: "Male transvestism is foremost fuelled by exhibitionistic motives. Under the regime of the exchange of beauty for benefits, man is doomed to forever admire female beauty, while his own body is left in the cold, how beautiful it might be." In the case of the female transvestite, her wearing of male clothing makes her more masculine, giving her a "boyish" look. The unisex look is making both men and women sexless figures, Beyst suggests: "clothes and other artificial interventions remove every sexual difference: we get to see a sexless being, like the angels of olden times."



Items of clothing often imitates the body parts that they cover, but, at the same time, replace them with something else, Beyst observes. For example, "the shape of the . . . panties echoes the triangle of the mound of Venus, while, at the same time, replacing the pubic hair and the mucous skin through shining cloth." Likewise, when a body part vanishes from display, it is shown in surrogate ways by the outerwear that covers it: "It is not difficult to understand why the disappearance of the vulva celebrates its resurrection in the folds of drapery, in collars or cuts in sleeves, stockings, jackets and coats." In this way, fur is a surrogate for pubic hair, he says, just as "the breasts reappear as cups and the nipples as buttons" and "the thighs or the hips are accentuated in crinolines" and hidden skin reappears, transformed into "silk, leather, or latex." Shoes, he says, "are destined to embody the penis."



Because clothing can substitute for the body parts it covers, clothing can become a fetish, Beyst argues: "Things are further complicated in that pieces of cloth may be isolated from the body from which they derive their appeal. Especially in such cases do the displacements of erotic appearance take the shape of a veritable 'fetish.'"



Beyst explains that jewelry, tattoos, and piercings both divert the eye from the body parts they adorn and attract the eye to these same parts.



A transvestite's wearing of clothing that is associated with or suggestive of the opposite sex (fur, which reminds the wearer both of men, who have body and facial hair, and of pubic hair or silk or satin, which is smooth like clean-shaven female flesh and the beardless female face), Beyst suggests, and allows him or her to put on the flesh--and, therefore, the body--of the opposite sex, becoming the man or woman he or she wants to be, which he or she can model before a mirror, in the imagination, or in the gaze of a third party.



Clothing also advertises social rank, for wealthy people are idle enough to wear white, just as long fingernails indicate the lack of a need to work, Beyst says, but clothes also maintain modesty, and the ancient Greeks sculpted male statues with miniature penises unless the intent was to be erotic, in which case, the penis was exaggerated in size.



Beyst argues that less attractive people, both male and female, are reduced to being always voyeurs and never exhibitionists, which injures their self-esteem and causes them to become "indifferent to female beauty," to reject "erotic beauty as mere titillation of the senses," to avenge themselves against women by destroying them, or to sublimate their sexuality in work.



The separation of behavior into private and public spheres is necessitated to avoid sharing the intimacy between lovers with strangers, and modesty is feigned, clothes being a means of maintaining the pretense, Beyst contends. Orgies violate these distinctions and often likewise contravene traditional dictates concerning which sexual acts are permissible and which are taboo.



<i>Next: Part 3 of "The Shemale As a Figure In Art"</i>

