Objectless

Shunga, or "spring" art, initially held lower class popular appeal in 7th and 8th century Japanese culture until it became suddenly fashionable in 19th century Europe and imported massively by Dutch merchants. Namely, Kitagawa Utamaro's ukiyo-e, or "pictures of the floating world," were in high demand. With a delicate eroticism and a sense of melancholy, his works rendered the inherent sadness in a life of pleasure seeking and the act of love.

For me there was a spirituality to the muted ethereal quality of these pillow book illuminations. There was a sweetness and uncharacteristic sense of permanence to these renderings of the sex act. In Objectless, I borrowed from the naturalistic interiors and landscapes of Japanese imagery for the three inked illuminations. In each depiction, however, the male identity is either obscured by flora or intentionally draped in concealment by the female figure.

The fish were a personal symbol for sexuality as I find their wide, lifeless eyes and chaotic movement seductive and terrifying. There is no doubt a mystifying allure to the appearance of the fish.  A classic symbol of miracle, providence and magic, for me the fish is both beautiful and hideous. Spewing forth from the inguen of the erotically posed female nude beneath, the arched bodies of the koi-like vertebrates are both fluid and spastic where they are caught in motion, either swimming the depths in harmony with their watery nature, or squirming, panicked and purged from their safe place. They mimic the meaningless gestural language connecting the pieces of the illuminated story.

Both submissive and aggressive, sprung on her knees, the figure beneath the romantic illuminations is consumed in her half-formed fantasies and objectless desire, isolated beneath a soft translucent fabric sheet, her saddened identity, still as yet, half-formed.