
In third grade, these were the works that would make me cover my face in my hands and hide, or turn away, embarrassed. These were women, naked, with their bodies on display. And they had these in public, in an art museum?! It seemed wrong, as if they were works meant for something else, to be viewed by one or a few people, and to be kept at home. But, with some of these works, it isn’t just the younger version of myself that questions their appearance in public. Charles Harrison, in “Degas' Bathers and Other People” questions, too, the role of Degas’ nude paintings--many of which were either of prostitutes, or likely modeled by prostitutes--and the implications of both viewing and enjoying them. Are they voyeuristic and anti-feminist, meant for the enjoyment of men and men alone, or are they art still, able to be appreciated by anyone? Harrison, to defend his own enjoyment of the art, chooses to support the second of the two, and explores ways in which enjoying these images can be more than a case of poor taste or disregard for the artist beyond the image.
The image that brought the issue to Harrison’s attention was a monotype by Degas, titled “Woman Reclining on Her Bed”. This was an image of a woman on a couch, her body exposed but her face unclear, either due to the angle, the lighting, or both. The part that really grabbed Harrison, however, was not just the work or the posing, but the fact that it was signed with a dedication instead of a signature. It was a work, indeed, never intended for galleries and public display, but a gift created for and given to a male friend--in this case, a writer and collector of modern art. As Harrison writes, “The almost inescapable suggestion is that images such as this circulated outside any public view precisely because their combination of artistry with indecency destined them for the secluded enjoyment of men of a certain sophistication. In other words, the intended function of the monotype was to supply an expensive taste for erotica.” This fact works against what Harrison hopes to argue, supporting the idea that Degas’ works are not meant to be viewed and enjoyed by all, regardless of gender.
The argument also derives from feminist ideas about the interpretation of the art, and the effects it creates on the viewer. According to the article, without thinking about the issue of gender, it is only differences in class or wealth or education that may effect a viewer’s ability to appreciate art, and these differences can be overcome. But, once the issue of gender is brought in, it can be seen that that is not so easily overcome, and that consensus or agreement in the past when it comes to the appreciation of art could easily be due to the fact women’s opinions were rarely heard. In fact, feminist Griselda Pollock described the viewing of Degas’ works, as a woman, by saying "I am forced to take up the proffered sadistic masculine position and symbolically enact the violence of Degas' representations, or identify masochistically with the bizarrely posed and cruelly drawn bodies." And so, the issue of whether or not the viewer must be male to enjoy Degas’ works is brought into question.
To confront this argument, Harrison delves into the details of a seemingly simple concern of male artists at the time: how women look. But, as Harrison reveals, it’s not as simple as it sounds. That same question can refer both to “what women look like,” as he writes, and ”what it is like for women to look.” And, the ambiguity of the term leads to what he calls a moment with “infinite social and psychological content,” when the woman being looked at looks back at the one looking at her. This brings into question the issue really at stake here: who is the imagined looker, in a painting in which the woman looks back?
In the case of Degas’ bathers, the looker was suggested by late 20th century contemporaries to be a voyeur. This was due to the fact that the women featured were assumed prostitutes, either because they were depicted as such in some works, or simply because other women would have been unlikely to allow themselves to be shown that way. And so the man, then, looking in on her, becomes the voyeur, taking his pleasure by watching her from afar, putting viewers in that uncomfortable position of looking in on her as well.
Harrison argues against this view by looking at the viewpoint and perspective used to create the paintings, looking particularly at Au CafĂ©. Instead of the conventional viewpoint, which would put the viewers outside of the picture plane, at a “socially and psychologically normative distance from its represented subject,” the position of a voyeur, he places the viewer within the picture plane. To do this, he uses a technique inspired by photography, blurring out objects nearby but leaving the woman herself sharply focused, along with having his nearest table intersect the picture plane instead of run parallel, as one might expect if the viewer was outside looking in. These techniques create the effect of being inside the painting--putting the viewers not in the position of the voyeur, but much closer to the position of the woman herself.
The paintings of Degas’ bathers use a similar kind of viewpoint. Instead of using situational cues to position the viewer--such as an open door, featured in Dancer in her Dressing Room, which puts the viewer outside the room watching the woman inside--the objects that might help orient the viewer actually “define and to qualify the sensuous self-absorption of the represented figure.” For example, in one picture a towel wraps around the body of the woman; in another, a woman bends to dry her feet, and the rim of the tub that she sits upon is positioned not to help place the viewer, but to help place the woman herself.
The final question left here is of what Degas’ intentions might be in creating those viewpoints. This comes back to the issue of looking and being looked at. While Degas and many other artists were concerned with depicting a woman being looked at, Harrison suggests that Degas was attempting to go even further with his bathers. He was, instead of depicting a woman watched, showing a woman unwatched, not looked at, “the unselfconscious possessor of her own space, her own body.” And, to do this in a painting, where the result would have to be something visual, something looked at, was a challenge. But the viewpoint, the placing of the viewer inside the work, and the depiction of a woman self-absorbed both accomplished this.
So, if we follow Harrison’s explanation, then the bathers and the works were not intended for the sole enjoyment of wealthy men. The viewers are not the voyeur, but the subject of the painting instead, occupying her space within the painting. And, because he defends it through technical properties, not just emotional reactions to the painting, it is much more convincing than the arguments of the contemporaries he is challenging. So, while my younger self might have shied away from Degas’ bathers, Degas has convinced me that there was no need to limit these works to only the private viewing of males; he has convinced me that they can, and were intended to be, viewed by anyone.
Harrison, Charles. "Degas' Bathers and Other People." Modernism/Modernity 6.3 (1999) 57-90. Web. 23 Nov. 2010.
Image: Modernism/Modernity: "Degas' Bathers"




