I did not mind seeing a naked woman, with metal strapped to her thighs, climb up a rope into a bell and hang upside-down inside it and be its clapper. I liked the way that a body became its plumed weight. But it did not make me cry, as it did my wife and daughter. I’m talking about an exhibit at the Venice Biennale by the way.
Whatever his intention, Yassin has restored the dignity of these girls
The show confirmed my sense that contemporary art is an enjoyable hunt for needles in haystacks. The trick is not to mind the ninety-five per cent of hay, which mostly resembles an A-level show at a very rich international school.
Anyway, I found a needle. I almost walked past because photography seldom grabs me. This seemed just some images of glamour models, blown up from a magazine from the seventies. Some text: Playmate of the Month. So they were from Playboy. But that’s odd, they were clothed: surely Playboy didn’t bother with clothed beauties? Then I noticed that the clothes were painted on. The artist had reclothed them. I smiled at the witty little stunt. Then I paused, and looked more closely, especially at one with a pair of sweet smiling twins, standing by a bed.
I was suddenly stimulated and moved. The deepest themes of innocence and shame and beauty came to life in my mind, like when I first got the point of Paradise Lost. Maybe I even joined my lachrymose family and shed a tear.
I have no idea whether the artist, Raed Yassin, intends such a response. The idea came from his father’s practice as a clothes designer in Lebanon in the 1980s. Unable to use living models, he used unclothed images from magazines. It planted a seed in his son’s mind. Whatever his intention, Yassin has restored the dignity of these girls, and to me this feels profound and counter-cultural, a sign of hope. Even amid the desecrations of our culture, there is artistry, and wit, and purity. Keep looking.
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