Galleries are brimming with fantastic paintings of youthful feminine beauties. From Venus to Lolita, in film, advertising, even opera, the unblemished, alluring, vulnerable pretty woman is one of the most enduringly popular subjects in art.

So why is ‘the male gaze’ a negative description, when it’s human nature for at least half the population to enjoy looking at attractive women? Even lots of women like it, so what harm does it do when people can just look away if they don’t like it?

Venus by Titian

Mathilda by Besson

If this rings true, I invite you to suspend judgement, digest this different viewpoint, and share your take on it in the comment section below. Most people with your perspective will have swiped away already, so I really appreciate that you’re still here!

It’s personal

As one of the many who DO have a problem with it, I teamed up with Clare Creed (a life model, pole dance instructor and body builder with a BA in Art History) to explore the subject. I approach this as an artist, a TEDx speaker, and a mother.

Speaking in plain terms, from personal experience, we use tangible examples and audience participation. Complete with a quiz and pretty pictures!

Nb we also present this material as a collaborative talk + life modelling session, please don’t hesitate to get in touch if you would be interested in hosting such an event.

Clare addressing Boticelli

Who named the male gaze?

The concept of ‘the gaze’ was introduced by Jean-Paul Sartre in his 1943 book ‘Being and Nothingness’. Sartre asserts that the act of gazing at another human being creates a subjective power difference between ‘the gazer’ and ‘the gazed’.

The depiction of women in art was addressed by art critic John Berger in his 1972 book (and 4-part BBC documentary series) ‘Ways of Seeing’. Often given as a textbook for art students, Berger’s book distinguishes between the gazes of three participants: the artist, the viewer, and the subject.

The term ‘male gaze’ was coined by film theorist Laura Mulvey in her 1975 essay ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’. Mulvey argues that mainstream cinema often depicts women from a heterosexual male perspective, objectifying them and reinforcing patriarchal power dynamics.

Under our noses

Walking round the National Gallery in London, you can join families and schoolchildren admiring beautifully painted scenes of graphic sexual violence and coercion. Sanitised as classical, mythological, religious or allegorical subjects, the architects of these images seem to have revelled in the obvious appeal to their (mostly rich male) patrons.

Rubens - The Rape of The Sabine Women (National Gallery)

In a nutshell, ‘male gaze’ is when a woman is portrayed in a way designed to appeal to the desires of a heterosexual male audience, at the expense of her autonomy or agency. This can be really obviously sleazy, or more circumspect, such as when a woman is portrayed as submissive or seeking rescue (regarding either someone in the painting, or the viewer).

It has nothing to do with the technical quality of the work, except in so far as technical brilliance sometimes gaslights the viewer into accepting the subject without curiosity.

Hasn’t feminism sorted this out yet?

In contemporary art galleries this inclination is still very much alive. Not as transparent as sexual violence, but paintings of women draped passively, seductively, appealing to the male gaze, are as yawningly common as ever. Pretty women are presented ‘at effect’ rather than ‘at cause’. Fitting idealised beauty standards, the viewer is invited to drink in their physique, imagining how he might step into the painting. Sometimes the artist constructs a narrative around the woman’s situation, or claims to have an interest in representing her ‘internal world’. But generally this isn’t required by the intended audience.

So what?

Judgement (a self portrait, returning the gaze)

By presenting women through the male gaze, the viewer is invited to ‘be’ the gazer. This infiltrates our sense of what society values about women, and what sort of behaviour is expected by/towards them.

Away from the art world, here are a few personal examples:

At 15 I was disappointed if I walked past a building site and didn’t get a wolf-whistle. I made a point of dressing accordingly.
At 20 as a junior computer programmer, I had an opportunity to talk informally to a senior manager, whose department I was interested in joining. He joked that he’d “recognise my knees anywhere”.
About the same time, I rode my motorbike to a garage to be fixed, and was discussing options with the mechanic. Spotting a proudly displayed Page 3 girl poster, I wondered how he saw me, and whether acknowledging the poster would influence his willingness to fix my bike. 30 years later, I still feel the awkward dichotomy of being treated amiably as a fellow biker by someone who so cheerfully regarded the objectified woman on the poster.

In each of these examples the men probably felt they were being appreciative, and I’m sure intended no harm. But as a young woman, I internalised some deeply disappointing conclusions about how I was judged.

Dialogue

John Dalton is an artist and podcaster who interviews many top contemporary artists. His podcasts are available on YouTube. I highly recommend them, and found it very interesting to hear him discuss the male gaze with Jeremy Lipking:

Quiztime!

OK, so I’ve done my best, but it really is quite hard to nail down exactly what makes a painting more ‘ewww’ than ‘oooh’. If you’re interested in definitions, try running some pictures through my quiz. I’d love to know what you find, and particularly, what do you think of the criteria? Can you suggest any improvements?

Clare Creed

Someone who knows a lot about the male gaze is life model, pole dance instructor and body builder Clare Creed. In a life modelling setting, when a tutor or artist asks Clare to strike a traditionally languid pose, she finds ways to ‘activate’ it. This might involve adopting a really solid stance, or by engaging in an activity (for example, writing) while holding the pose.

Model-led life drawing sessions allow more freedom, and Clare also enjoys adopting traditionally male poses, such as Michaelangelo’s David. She has played with both the female ‘Night’ and male ‘Day’ from Michaelangelo’s sculpture.

I had the privilege of joining one such session, where Clare talked through, and modelled ‘classic’ poses. Here are my drawings:

Clare features as one of The [reclaimed] 3 Graces (can you spot them?) in my painting:

Clare in my studio after modelling, she brought her portable pole for the mast. The (almost) blank canvas is visible behind us.

Clare Creed in my studio, modelling for The Raft

What do you think?

The male gaze as concept is dismissed by many creatives and audiences as irrelevant. If you have got this far and are still not convinced, sincerely thank you for persisting. Please do feel welcome to add your thoughts to the comment section.

If you get a sinking feeling on seeing yet another subtly vulnerable ‘young thing’ portrayed accidentally-on-purpose revealing themselves in the name of art, I hope this helps to confirm your instinct that it’s not OK, and to know that your discomfort is supported by academics, creators, and audiences worldwide.

Please do leave a comment if you would like to add your reflection or experience. I would also welcome input on the criteria in the quiz.

“But I LIKE seeing pretty women”