Sex
Edo erotica
Art from the city that would become Tokyo shows a 17th and 18th century world of pleasure that was sexual, theatrical, discreet and elegant.
There aren’t many sexy cities around these days. There might be sex — in the privacy of urban bedrooms or the subsensual tensions of the office space and the cocktail bar — but the widespread devotion to commerce and consumption leaves little space for serious desire. In some ways “Sex and the City” has got it right — people talking about relationships and sex as themes, as issues — but for a city scene that has as its driving force sexual pleasure, you’d probably have to go looking in the steamier corners of the world’s sex tourism cities: Bangkok, Salvador de Bahia, Manila. But in these base, boozy, business-only places you’d be foolish to expect cultured madames and enlightened socializing.
You could expect such things in Japan in the 17th and 18th centuries. Its capital Edo (modern-day Tokyo) embraced a culture that managed to balance the necessary mercantile needs of society with a vision of a transient “floating world” (ukiyo) devoted to pleasure-seeking — in particular the theater and the whorehouse. The artistic expression of this is in a current exhibit titled “The Dawn of the Floating World” (ukiyo-e), a group of prints, paintings and books from 1650-1765 by a small number of outstanding artists and schools. Just over 140 pieces from the Boston Museum of Fine Art’s famed collection of ukiyo-e works are being shown for the first time outside that city (some for the first time ever) at London’s Royal Academy (through Feb. 17).
The city these artists depict must have been a hedonistic delight — for men at least. Imagine a vibrant city in which daily life is a combination of animated conversation, relaxing music plucked on the banjolike shamisen and clever songs, cups of tea and sex, all delivered by beautiful women. The courtesans’ main purpose in life was to please and entertain and perfect these services. In between sessions they were before the mirror whitening their faces, blackening their teeth and shaving their napes — all the time hiding the fact that such labors were fatiguing. Unlike the geishas, who emerged in the late 18th century and were never officially prostitutes, these “floating world” women plied their trade openly.
A large folding screen of the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter by Hishikawa Moronobu is an example of an artistic depiction of sex as business. A strict hierarchy pertained in the brothels, as in society, and only a few of the several thousand working women became rich. The best had acolytes who watched them to learn the trade, earning very little once they began selling their bodies, even though virgins (fake or genuine) were expensive for the customer.
The pleasures of Edo were not solely physical. The wealthy townsman class of merchants and artisans in the Shogunate wanted a life of general satisfaction, and when not checking out the offerings at the assignation teahouses, they were at the Nakamura Kabuki theater. Many of the prints are of warriors and actors whose parody of Chinese folklore were key elements of the floating world culture. When not in bed, the new rich were laughing at high culture.
It’s clear that Kabuki influenced courtship and fine art. A convention for portraying beautiful women was to show them in the “looking back” pose (“mikaeri” in Japanese), their heads diverted from the direction in which they were walking. Employed daily on catwalks and on fashion magazine covers, this affectation points up the importance of deportment and display. Elsewhere women are combing their hair, bathing, flirting, standing tall on “fuck-me” block heels — their hips jutting out — and most are wearing beautiful, sometimes ostentatiously long robes. A ritualistic, formal air hangs over all the scenes as if sexuality and theatricality were one and the same. Artists like Okumura Masanobu also employed the tricks of stagecraft in their compositions — most effectively in the pillar pictures, which crop the sides off the image to suggest the viewer is peeking voyeuristically through a door left ajar.
From 1650 to 1765 color began appearing in the artworks of Edo — but even where hand-drawn tints enliven clothing and landscapes, skin is always milky white. Martin Amis has pointed out that white is the quintessential color of porn; black, he maintains, is amateurish, obvious. Of course, as a Western writer, he is talking about white underwear, white lace, the white of brides. In 18th century Edo, whiteness was one of the ways courtesans were appraised. The ukiyo-e images exploit the theme in suggestive images of women’s bodies packaged in ostentatious robes. In one, an accompanying poem tells us: “As the tie cords/gradually unravel/skin like snow!”
This innocent wonder becomes lusty knowingness in the most explicit pictures, Torii Kiyonobu’s “Erotic Contest of Flowers.” Here, two naked ultrawhite lovers with scant, tidy pubic hair enjoin in Kama Sutra-style positions or, when joined by a second ultrawhite courtesan, give the man’s ultrathick phallus an expert pulling (apparently a parody of an armor-tugging theatrical scene). What stands out most in these images of sexual experimentation, especially those that don’t involve penetration, are the labia — perfect commas as pink as Japanese cherry blossom against immaculate skin.
But how do these prints and paintings work for us now? Going to the Royal Academy to see the Edo pictures involves an imaginative leap. As well as the obvious challenge of seeing art removed in time and hemisphere from present-day, asexual London, the nature of the material complicates the matter. You slide naturally from viewing the city scenes and parodic theatrical cartoons to studying what would now be considered titillating erotica or even pornography. The fact that these works predate full-color printing means that for the modern eye they can lack a necessary ruddiness, and the curving lines and subtle details may not stir the right hormones. Perspective had only recently been imported from China and the West, and there is an inevitable flatness to the cartoon-like scenes. It’s hard to find eroticism in one dimension.
But watching the London crowd studying the prints carefully and nosing right up to the surfaces to catch the details, it seems there is something intriguing about the floating world. It may well be the aesthetic-erotic effect of three rooms decked out in flimsy paper prints, sensual whorls, flowing lines and perfect contours. In a contemporary media-filled society where everything supposedly sexual is in your face and energized by the flash gun, the almost abstract patterns of Edo erotica have a certain appeal. That so much urban foreplay took place in a country most Britons associate with POW camps, electronics and workaholism is an education in itself.
Some might argue that window shopping along the streets of the red light districts of The Hague or Amsterdam is the modern version of the floating life. What this exhibition asserts, above all, is that in Edo money, fashion, laughter and sex were part of the same daily continuum, with nothing in common with a stag weekend for desperate males. From the popular manga comics to van Gogh and Degas, the floating world has influenced our culture, and even in Europe, occasional periods of bohemian creativity have revived its ethos. But right now in London, while you can still get a shag and a good-looking companion in exchange for a wad of money, Edo is a reminder that sex can be discreet, elegant and thoughtful.
Chris Moss is a freelance writer based in London. He has written for the Guardian, the Independent, Time Out and other UK media. More Chris Moss.
Massage therapists rubbed wrong by sex talk
A Jennifer Love Hewitt show and the Travolta allegations have masseuses tired of being confused for sex workers
(Credit: iStockphoto/sybanto) Joe, a licensed massage therapist, knows what it’s like having a famous client who expects something extra. He had an Academy Award-winning actor begin gyrating on his massage table before raising his hips in the air to show off his erection. “He was hoping that I would play with him in some shape or form,” he says.
Needless to say, Joe isn’t surprised by allegations by two masseurs that John Travolta got handsy during massages. (Travolta’s attorney has denied all the allegations, and called them “ridiculous.”) “It happens all the time,” he says, and not just with celebrity clients. He frequently encounters men who try to fondle him, usually while he’s working on their glutes or lower back and their hand happens to be level with his crotch. “They think they’re so original, but they’re all so much the same,” Joe says, his voice rising. “They all use the same tactics, the same body movements, the same gyrations and grinding my table, the [heavy] breathing.”
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
A night at the vibrator museum
Early vibrators were hand-cranked, two-person jobs -- and prescribed by doctors. How far we've come since then
(Credit: Antique Vibrator Museum) I can now say that I’ve used a turn-of-the-century vibrator — on my hand, but still.
The silver, hand-cranked contraption is usually kept behind glass at Good Vibrations’ Antique Vibrator Museum in San Francisco — but staff sexologist Carol Queen made a rare exception. “This is very special,” she whispered, unlocking the case and carefully pulling out Dr. Johansen’s Auto Vibrator, a relic from 1904. The “auto” part is not so much: It was a two-person job, with her having to crank the device’s handle to get it thrumming. Pressing my finger tips to its inch-wide circular platform of pleasure, I was pleasantly surprised by its power.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
Maggie Gyllenhaal on sexual liberation
The beloved indie star tells Salon about her "vibrator movie" and why she loves playing transgressive women
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Credit: Reuters/Mark Blinch) When I met Maggie Gyllenhaal about six weeks ago, she was enormously and gloriously pregnant, stretching out on a sofa with her shoes off and feet up in a Manhattan office building. (Since that time, Gyllenhaal and husband Peter Sarsgaard have welcomed their second daughter, Gloria Ray, to the world.) We were there to talk about “Hysteria,” the charming, lightweight feminist farce from director Tanya Wexler that explores a key event in the history of female sexuality: the invention of the vibrator by Mortimer Granville, a Victorian doctor who was seeking to cure the mysterious “female malady” that lends the movie its title.
Continue Reading CloseMother-daughter sexperts
Susie Bright and her daughter, Aretha, make parental talks about sex look easy -- and fun
Most parents loathe talking to their kids about the birds and the bees, let alone pubic hair grooming, faked orgasms and “water sports” — but most parents are not legendary “sexpert” Susie Bright.
Better than talking about these things, she penned an advice column in 2009 with her daughter, Aretha, then 19, for the ladyblog Jezebel. Their answers to questions about everything from porn to Paxil were unflinching but playful, and at times controversial. Now the pair have collected those columns into a new e-book, “Mother/Daughter Sex Advice.” Together, they read as an irreverent version of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” for the Internet age. The mother-daughter team also reflect on what the experience of writing the column was like, and it turns out it wasn’t as weird as many would think: For the most part, it was just a continuation of conversations they had been having throughout Aretha’s life.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
On the rack: A cultural history of breasts
Did breasts evolve for lactation or to enhance sex appeal? A new book explores why they matter
(Credit: iStockphoto/NadyaPhoto) It’s hard to be boobs. Sure, breasts are cherished as givers of milk and the pinnacle of sex appeal, but the modern world hasn’t been good to mammaries.
As Florence Williams writes in “Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural History,” they’re the most tumor-prone organ in the human body. They “soak up pollution like a pair of soft sponges,” and transmit environmental toxins to babies through breast milk. “Breasts are bellwethers for the changing health of people,” she says. While we’ve “genetically modified our crops to be able to protect them from the ill effects of pesticides,” Williams writes, “we haven’t yet figured out how to modify our breasts.” Aside from using saline and silicone, of course.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
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