A Little Death

Scandalous. Unacceptable. Pornographic. Blasphemous. These epithets accompany most works of Andres Serrano, an American photographer, ever since he shocked the art world by photographing a crucifix immersed in his urine (1987). This photograph (or its description) can now be found in each and every art history book on contemporary art.

Almost ten years after the Immersion, Andres Serrano created the series on The History of Sex. Today, Facebook or Instagram would kill your account if you post some of them, and some of your more conservative relatives may stop returning your calls. However, even the most explicit of these images are not meant to stimulate carnal desires. If pornography is the answer to unrealised sexual tensions, Serrano’s images are questions about why there are tensions in the first place. His photographs are a stimulus for self-introspection – not arousal.

This photograph comes from the History of Sex series. The old man looks up at a younger woman while being cradled as a baby. This is what it shows. What it tells the viewer is a story outside the picture’s frame. Given its title, it is, perhaps, a representation of the impotence of old age longing for intimacy with youth. Or it could be talking about a father-daughter relationship. Or something else. Enjoy the ambiguity while Sigmund Freud is tap-dancing at the back of your head, whispering, “It’s the mother”.

Interestingly, the gallerist who put this photo in an exhibition noted that as he was leaving the gallery and was about to lock its doors, he had a sensation of Apocalypse radiating from it.

At that moment, I realised that when I visited that exhibition a few days back and spent much time in front of it, I felt the same weird vibe. And then – eureka! – I knew where it was coming from.

Karl Brullov, a Russian painter of the 19th century who spent most of his life in Italy, painted this historical masterpiece in 1833 – The Last Day of Pompei. Brullov presented the painting to the Russian Tsar, who then put it in a separate room in his palace, opened it to the public, and made it so hugely popular that top poets and writers were writing poems and essays inspired by it.

In this painting, there are many clusters of doomed families. Still, one of the most memorable ones is where a young lady is helping to carry an elderly man (her father?) to safety – and we know there is no safety; they would all be dead regardless of what they do or where they run.

This group also rhymes with this one, where genders are reversed: a young man with an old woman. It is the same story of dedication, longing, salvation, and sacrifice.

Brullov shows the Apocalypse unfolding.

Serrano’s tension is about the premonition of the Apocalypse. And – frankly – it is even scarier. I think there is logic to it. If we agree with the French definition of orgasm as “a little death,” we have to accept that foreplay is a bit like the last rites. And the last rites being administered to someone still living is way more disturbing than just a dead body.

Serrano’s image may come from the History of Sex series, but as with any great image, it has the potential to send the viewer’s brain trotting along many title-unrelated pathways. The benefit to the viewer? Well, you’d learn more about who you are, regardless of age or gender.

PS The human form above the old man’s head in Serrano’s photograph is me. It is not a part of the original photo, but I like being there, watching your reactions, winking back at you.

PPS: If you happen to be in Italy, this exhibition is like a three-star Micheline restaurant: worth planning a special journey. Nineteen artists talking about body and sex across three generations – top talent and top names – is a unique treat.

AMAMI

curated by Giusy Caroppo

 Opening 9 September, 2023
9 September – 14 October, 2023

Galleria Giampaolo Abbondio
Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi 7 – TODI