Patterns of Desire

Rating:
Summary: A raucous cross-cultural history of erotica. . .
Review: . . . as it might have been dreamed by Federico Fellini. Kozloff's brilliant and often hilarious re-imaginings of erotic art--from East & West, antiquity to modernity, sacred and profane--invite both voyeuristic pleasures and provocative reflection on sexuality and its manifold representations. "The Satyr of Bonampak," to take just one example, recreates the famous polychrome murals from that Mayan site with not only hierolglyphics about the rain goddess but also a copulating satyr and nymph by Caracci, an equally aroused couple by Daumier and, most extravagant of all, a pair of Japanese lovers literally interwined in a spiral of limbs and genetalia. Other Kozloff paintings take as their points of departure classic scenes of Japanese ukiyo-e, the Books of Kells, Hindu scrolls, and, of course, Greek vases. The juxtaposition of such disparate images is vastly entertaining but, no less important, it confronts us with a host of questions about the extent to which sexual norms are universal or culturally determined. There is nothing didactic about Kozloff's work, however. It is first and foremost about pleasure--the seemingly boundless pleasures of sex and art. Linda Nochlin's introduction is insightful, as one has come to expect from this respected art historian.

Rating:
Summary: A raucous cross-cultural history of erotica. . .
Review: . . . as it might have been dreamed by Federico Fellini. Kozloff's brilliant and often hilarious re-imaginings of erotic art--from East & West, antiquity to modernity, sacred and profane--invite both voyeuristic pleasures and provocative reflection on sexuality and its manifold representations. "The Satyr of Bonampak," to take just one example, recreates the famous polychrome murals from that Mayan site with not only hierolglyphics about the rain goddess but also a copulating satyr and nymph by Caracci, an equally aroused couple by Daumier and, most extravagant of all, a pair of Japanese lovers literally interwined in a spiral of limbs and genetalia. Other Kozloff paintings take as their points of departure classic scenes of Japanese ukiyo-e, the Books of Kells, Hindu scrolls, and, of course, Greek vases. The juxtaposition of such disparate images is vastly entertaining but, no less important, it confronts us with a host of questions about the extent to which sexual norms are universal or culturally determined. There is nothing didactic about Kozloff's work, however. It is first and foremost about pleasure--the seemingly boundless pleasures of sex and art. Linda Nochlin's introduction is insightful, as one has come to expect from this respected art historian.