Papers by Louise Boyd
When viewed through its art, the Edo period (1600-1868) appeared to the West and post-Edo Japan a... more When viewed through its art, the Edo period (1600-1868) appeared to the West and post-Edo Japan as if it were a pornotopia. Although art can be considered to be like a mirror that reflects reality, it is also widely acknowledged that art can provide an escape from reality by depicting illusions. With the popularity of pictures of beautiful people (bijinga), who were often prostitutes or actors, and the wide circulation of prints, paintings and books containing explicit depictions of sex (shunga), it is not surprising that notions of illusion, fantasy, and misconception frequently re-occur in relation to Edo-period society and sex.
There are different illusions about shunga that scholars want to expose and, correspondingly, different aspects of reality that they want to call to the attention of their readers. Because shunga is a collective term used to refer to a wide-range of work relating to sex, produced by many artists throughout the Edo period, and not a particular school or movement there is enough variety within shunga that evidence can be found to support multiple illusions and realities, even when seemingly contradictory.
Any text on shunga, including the interpretations in this paper, reveals as much about the author and their culture as it does about shunga and Edo society. Katsushika Hokusai’s famous depiction of an octopus performing oral sex on a woman is a classic example of this, which Tom and Mary Evans also remarked on: “Despite the considerable amount that has been written about this work, all attempts to interpret and elucidate it end up by revealing more about the writer than about the original work.” The experiential background and knowledge that viewers bring with them when they engage with an artwork affects how they interpret it and its possible allusions and illusions.
Therefore, I am not claiming that I can uncover ‘the reality’ of sex in Edo Japan; in fact, I would argue that due to there being multifarious viewpoints and experiences dependent on gender, age, class, and sexuality which, when combined with people’s reluctance to talk openly and honestly about sex, demonstrate that there is not a single, verifiable ‘reality’. Nevertheless, by being aware of and attempting to look beyond some of the illusions in, and misconceptions about, shunga, some important aspects of Edo society can be revealed. Furthermore, the most convincing illusions, even if wildly exaggerated, have a basis in reality. Insights into the realities of Edo society and its attitudes to sex and sexuality may be gained by questioning why artists chose to present those particular illusions and what viewers felt they were lacking in reality that caused them to look to shunga to satisfy their needs. The answers to these questions might also suggest why shunga continues to fascinate modern-day viewers.
If shunga are taken at face value Edo Japan does appear to fit the idea of a pornotopia, but I will examine in more detail how and why this illusion has been formed. Firstly, I will discuss the illusion of sexual freedom in comparison to Western norms of moral judgement and censorship. Secondly, I will look at the illusion that there was always a willing partner, ready to have sex at any time and in any place. I will then briefly discuss misconceptions relating to the uses and functions of shunga. Finally, I will question illusions relating to choice, gender equality, sexuality, and courtesans.
With the recent exceptions of Hayakawa Monta and Akiko Yano, scholars have avoided discussing the... more With the recent exceptions of Hayakawa Monta and Akiko Yano, scholars have avoided discussing the depiction of children in shunga, sexually-explicit art created in Edo Japan (1603-1868). The presence of children in shunga may cause offence and therefore such images may be omitted from books and exhibitions. I will argue that this is unnecessary as children in shunga are presented as innocent and the adults are often their parents. Furthermore, I will show how their innocence is used as a humorous counterpoint to their parents’ adult activities and how their unwanted presence brings a touch of realism to a genre that depicts fantasies.
I will contrast the innocence of children in shunga with the sexualisation of children in Utamaro’s mother and child prints. Utamaro subverts the conventions of mother and child art by eroticising the relationship, particularly in his prints of the folklore figures Yamauba and Kintaro. I will suggest that he used images of breastfeeding to bridge the two different types of depiction of children – as innocent and as sexualised.
Conference Presentations by Louise Boyd
Although shunga, sexually explicit art created in the Edo period (1603-1868), does not represent ... more Although shunga, sexually explicit art created in the Edo period (1603-1868), does not represent Japanese visual culture, which is a wide and varied field, it is one aspect of it which seems to be uniquely Japanese as it had no comparable equivalent in most other countries during that time. However, despite that and its taboo status in modern Japan, it could be argued that due to its subject matter and art’s ability to transcend cultural barriers shunga can be understood and appreciated on a universal level.
On the other hand, cultural, historical and artistic differences may counteract this universality. I will discuss how shunga has been presented recently with particular reference to the current British Museum shunga exhibition, drawing on staff interviews and visitor feedback. This will be compared to shunga exhibitions in Hawaii (2012, 2013), Milan (2009) and Helsinki (2002) and shunga included in exhibitions in London (2007, 2013) and Cambridge (2013). In order to address whether shunga is universal, I will examine how these exhibitions interpreted and contextualised shunga to make it accessible for viewers in contrast to the, arguably inherent, universality of sex, emotions and art.
I would like to compare these with exhibitions in Japan, but apart from a small number of works displayed at Ritsumeikan University (2009) and Mori Art Museum (2003), shunga has not been exhibited in Japan. Therefore, I will question why it is acceptable to exhibit shunga across the world but not within Japan and ask if this is likely change in the near future.
"During the Edo period in Japan (c.1603–1868) the production and dissemination of shunga, sexuall... more "During the Edo period in Japan (c.1603–1868) the production and dissemination of shunga, sexually-explicit prints, paintings and illustrated books, was acceptable in a way in which it was not in Europe. Despite being officially banned in 1722, shunga was an open secret that was widely produced, circulated and tolerated until, due to the influence of the West, it was suppressed in the late 19th century.
Although access to sexual material has become more commonplace, cultural institutions remain cautious about what they collect and exhibit. Shunga is a contentious subject: it has often been omitted from art history, collections of shunga offered to institutions have been refused, and exhibitions and publications featuring shunga have been censored.
It could be argued that the lack of clarity surrounding the legality and censorship of so-called obscene or pornographic artworks has put the onus on institutions to self-censor for fear of falling foul of the law or public outcry, which often only become apparent after the fact. I will look at the development of what might be termed social and institutional censorship as seen in the British Museum, from its Secretum, a secret, locked cupboard of sex-related artefacts created in 1865, to its current Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art exhibition. It was intended that a similar exhibition be shown in Japan, but a willing venue has not yet been found. I will question why this institutional censorship of shunga in Japan continues.
"
"Shunga are sexually explicit woodblock prints, paintings and illustrated books created in Edo-pe... more "Shunga are sexually explicit woodblock prints, paintings and illustrated books created in Edo-period Japan (1603-1868). Visitors to the British Museum’s Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art exhibition have frequently commented on the apparent gender equality and focus on mutual pleasure as a particular characteristic of shunga, and noted how this differs from the depiction of women as passive, objects of the male gaze in European art of the same period. This raises questions about whether women in shunga were objectified or equal. After exploring these issues using feminist theory, I will suggest that although shunga does at times objectify women, in does so to a lesser extent or a less harmful extent than European art and pornography tends to.
I will begin by briefly clarifying why I am using feminism to discuss shunga. In particular, I will focus on shunga’s distinguishing features and use Martha Nussbaum‘s seven ways of objectifying to examine the depiction of women to ascertain to what extent they were objectified. Starting with how partial nudity, the exaggeration of genitals and the use of text can create both objectification and subjectivity.
Art can act like a mirror which reflects the society that creates it, but art can also offer illusions and a diversion from that which is lacking in its viewers’ lives. Therefore, I will question the emphasis on mutual pleasure and equality between men and women in shunga, and to what extent it reflects relationships in Edo society. I will discuss how this apparent equality may obfuscate notions of objectification. Attitudes to sexuality as depicted in shunga will be offered as an example of gender inequality.
Finally, I will consider women’s agency and the notion of consent. Scenes of coercion are infrequent in shunga, but are notable for the moral judgement implied in the negative way men are depicted and for the way women are not portrayed as passive victims. However, I will suggest that for Edo women the notion of choice and consent in relation to sex is problematised by women’s status in a patriarchal and highly structured society.
"
"“That’s not art, it’s porn!”
Sexually explicit art is a polemical subject and even finding th... more "“That’s not art, it’s porn!”
Sexually explicit art is a polemical subject and even finding the right terms to discuss it is difficult. As the ‘quote’ in the title suggests, many people dismiss the idea that a sexually explicit work can be art. Because art and pornography are commonly held to be mutually exclusive categories, if it is not art then it must be something else, and usually this ‘other’ is named pornography. However, ‘pornography’, ‘erotic’ and ‘art’ are not fixed or neutral terms and, because categorisation can have a legal and practical impact on museums and viewers, they require clarification.
I will discuss definitions of the terms ‘erotic’, ‘obscene’, ‘pornography’ and ‘art’, including exploring the relationship between form and class, value judgements, private versus public space, and explain how these relate to the art/porn/erotic debate.
Definitions are not static but culturally dependent and time-specific. To foreground the importance of cultural context in relation to sex, I will contrast definitions and UK attitudes to sex in art with those of Edo Japan (1603-1868).
"
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Papers by Louise Boyd
There are different illusions about shunga that scholars want to expose and, correspondingly, different aspects of reality that they want to call to the attention of their readers. Because shunga is a collective term used to refer to a wide-range of work relating to sex, produced by many artists throughout the Edo period, and not a particular school or movement there is enough variety within shunga that evidence can be found to support multiple illusions and realities, even when seemingly contradictory.
Any text on shunga, including the interpretations in this paper, reveals as much about the author and their culture as it does about shunga and Edo society. Katsushika Hokusai’s famous depiction of an octopus performing oral sex on a woman is a classic example of this, which Tom and Mary Evans also remarked on: “Despite the considerable amount that has been written about this work, all attempts to interpret and elucidate it end up by revealing more about the writer than about the original work.” The experiential background and knowledge that viewers bring with them when they engage with an artwork affects how they interpret it and its possible allusions and illusions.
Therefore, I am not claiming that I can uncover ‘the reality’ of sex in Edo Japan; in fact, I would argue that due to there being multifarious viewpoints and experiences dependent on gender, age, class, and sexuality which, when combined with people’s reluctance to talk openly and honestly about sex, demonstrate that there is not a single, verifiable ‘reality’. Nevertheless, by being aware of and attempting to look beyond some of the illusions in, and misconceptions about, shunga, some important aspects of Edo society can be revealed. Furthermore, the most convincing illusions, even if wildly exaggerated, have a basis in reality. Insights into the realities of Edo society and its attitudes to sex and sexuality may be gained by questioning why artists chose to present those particular illusions and what viewers felt they were lacking in reality that caused them to look to shunga to satisfy their needs. The answers to these questions might also suggest why shunga continues to fascinate modern-day viewers.
If shunga are taken at face value Edo Japan does appear to fit the idea of a pornotopia, but I will examine in more detail how and why this illusion has been formed. Firstly, I will discuss the illusion of sexual freedom in comparison to Western norms of moral judgement and censorship. Secondly, I will look at the illusion that there was always a willing partner, ready to have sex at any time and in any place. I will then briefly discuss misconceptions relating to the uses and functions of shunga. Finally, I will question illusions relating to choice, gender equality, sexuality, and courtesans.
I will contrast the innocence of children in shunga with the sexualisation of children in Utamaro’s mother and child prints. Utamaro subverts the conventions of mother and child art by eroticising the relationship, particularly in his prints of the folklore figures Yamauba and Kintaro. I will suggest that he used images of breastfeeding to bridge the two different types of depiction of children – as innocent and as sexualised.
Conference Presentations by Louise Boyd
On the other hand, cultural, historical and artistic differences may counteract this universality. I will discuss how shunga has been presented recently with particular reference to the current British Museum shunga exhibition, drawing on staff interviews and visitor feedback. This will be compared to shunga exhibitions in Hawaii (2012, 2013), Milan (2009) and Helsinki (2002) and shunga included in exhibitions in London (2007, 2013) and Cambridge (2013). In order to address whether shunga is universal, I will examine how these exhibitions interpreted and contextualised shunga to make it accessible for viewers in contrast to the, arguably inherent, universality of sex, emotions and art.
I would like to compare these with exhibitions in Japan, but apart from a small number of works displayed at Ritsumeikan University (2009) and Mori Art Museum (2003), shunga has not been exhibited in Japan. Therefore, I will question why it is acceptable to exhibit shunga across the world but not within Japan and ask if this is likely change in the near future.
Although access to sexual material has become more commonplace, cultural institutions remain cautious about what they collect and exhibit. Shunga is a contentious subject: it has often been omitted from art history, collections of shunga offered to institutions have been refused, and exhibitions and publications featuring shunga have been censored.
It could be argued that the lack of clarity surrounding the legality and censorship of so-called obscene or pornographic artworks has put the onus on institutions to self-censor for fear of falling foul of the law or public outcry, which often only become apparent after the fact. I will look at the development of what might be termed social and institutional censorship as seen in the British Museum, from its Secretum, a secret, locked cupboard of sex-related artefacts created in 1865, to its current Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art exhibition. It was intended that a similar exhibition be shown in Japan, but a willing venue has not yet been found. I will question why this institutional censorship of shunga in Japan continues.
"
I will begin by briefly clarifying why I am using feminism to discuss shunga. In particular, I will focus on shunga’s distinguishing features and use Martha Nussbaum‘s seven ways of objectifying to examine the depiction of women to ascertain to what extent they were objectified. Starting with how partial nudity, the exaggeration of genitals and the use of text can create both objectification and subjectivity.
Art can act like a mirror which reflects the society that creates it, but art can also offer illusions and a diversion from that which is lacking in its viewers’ lives. Therefore, I will question the emphasis on mutual pleasure and equality between men and women in shunga, and to what extent it reflects relationships in Edo society. I will discuss how this apparent equality may obfuscate notions of objectification. Attitudes to sexuality as depicted in shunga will be offered as an example of gender inequality.
Finally, I will consider women’s agency and the notion of consent. Scenes of coercion are infrequent in shunga, but are notable for the moral judgement implied in the negative way men are depicted and for the way women are not portrayed as passive victims. However, I will suggest that for Edo women the notion of choice and consent in relation to sex is problematised by women’s status in a patriarchal and highly structured society.
"
Sexually explicit art is a polemical subject and even finding the right terms to discuss it is difficult. As the ‘quote’ in the title suggests, many people dismiss the idea that a sexually explicit work can be art. Because art and pornography are commonly held to be mutually exclusive categories, if it is not art then it must be something else, and usually this ‘other’ is named pornography. However, ‘pornography’, ‘erotic’ and ‘art’ are not fixed or neutral terms and, because categorisation can have a legal and practical impact on museums and viewers, they require clarification.
I will discuss definitions of the terms ‘erotic’, ‘obscene’, ‘pornography’ and ‘art’, including exploring the relationship between form and class, value judgements, private versus public space, and explain how these relate to the art/porn/erotic debate.
Definitions are not static but culturally dependent and time-specific. To foreground the importance of cultural context in relation to sex, I will contrast definitions and UK attitudes to sex in art with those of Edo Japan (1603-1868).
"
There are different illusions about shunga that scholars want to expose and, correspondingly, different aspects of reality that they want to call to the attention of their readers. Because shunga is a collective term used to refer to a wide-range of work relating to sex, produced by many artists throughout the Edo period, and not a particular school or movement there is enough variety within shunga that evidence can be found to support multiple illusions and realities, even when seemingly contradictory.
Any text on shunga, including the interpretations in this paper, reveals as much about the author and their culture as it does about shunga and Edo society. Katsushika Hokusai’s famous depiction of an octopus performing oral sex on a woman is a classic example of this, which Tom and Mary Evans also remarked on: “Despite the considerable amount that has been written about this work, all attempts to interpret and elucidate it end up by revealing more about the writer than about the original work.” The experiential background and knowledge that viewers bring with them when they engage with an artwork affects how they interpret it and its possible allusions and illusions.
Therefore, I am not claiming that I can uncover ‘the reality’ of sex in Edo Japan; in fact, I would argue that due to there being multifarious viewpoints and experiences dependent on gender, age, class, and sexuality which, when combined with people’s reluctance to talk openly and honestly about sex, demonstrate that there is not a single, verifiable ‘reality’. Nevertheless, by being aware of and attempting to look beyond some of the illusions in, and misconceptions about, shunga, some important aspects of Edo society can be revealed. Furthermore, the most convincing illusions, even if wildly exaggerated, have a basis in reality. Insights into the realities of Edo society and its attitudes to sex and sexuality may be gained by questioning why artists chose to present those particular illusions and what viewers felt they were lacking in reality that caused them to look to shunga to satisfy their needs. The answers to these questions might also suggest why shunga continues to fascinate modern-day viewers.
If shunga are taken at face value Edo Japan does appear to fit the idea of a pornotopia, but I will examine in more detail how and why this illusion has been formed. Firstly, I will discuss the illusion of sexual freedom in comparison to Western norms of moral judgement and censorship. Secondly, I will look at the illusion that there was always a willing partner, ready to have sex at any time and in any place. I will then briefly discuss misconceptions relating to the uses and functions of shunga. Finally, I will question illusions relating to choice, gender equality, sexuality, and courtesans.
I will contrast the innocence of children in shunga with the sexualisation of children in Utamaro’s mother and child prints. Utamaro subverts the conventions of mother and child art by eroticising the relationship, particularly in his prints of the folklore figures Yamauba and Kintaro. I will suggest that he used images of breastfeeding to bridge the two different types of depiction of children – as innocent and as sexualised.
On the other hand, cultural, historical and artistic differences may counteract this universality. I will discuss how shunga has been presented recently with particular reference to the current British Museum shunga exhibition, drawing on staff interviews and visitor feedback. This will be compared to shunga exhibitions in Hawaii (2012, 2013), Milan (2009) and Helsinki (2002) and shunga included in exhibitions in London (2007, 2013) and Cambridge (2013). In order to address whether shunga is universal, I will examine how these exhibitions interpreted and contextualised shunga to make it accessible for viewers in contrast to the, arguably inherent, universality of sex, emotions and art.
I would like to compare these with exhibitions in Japan, but apart from a small number of works displayed at Ritsumeikan University (2009) and Mori Art Museum (2003), shunga has not been exhibited in Japan. Therefore, I will question why it is acceptable to exhibit shunga across the world but not within Japan and ask if this is likely change in the near future.
Although access to sexual material has become more commonplace, cultural institutions remain cautious about what they collect and exhibit. Shunga is a contentious subject: it has often been omitted from art history, collections of shunga offered to institutions have been refused, and exhibitions and publications featuring shunga have been censored.
It could be argued that the lack of clarity surrounding the legality and censorship of so-called obscene or pornographic artworks has put the onus on institutions to self-censor for fear of falling foul of the law or public outcry, which often only become apparent after the fact. I will look at the development of what might be termed social and institutional censorship as seen in the British Museum, from its Secretum, a secret, locked cupboard of sex-related artefacts created in 1865, to its current Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art exhibition. It was intended that a similar exhibition be shown in Japan, but a willing venue has not yet been found. I will question why this institutional censorship of shunga in Japan continues.
"
I will begin by briefly clarifying why I am using feminism to discuss shunga. In particular, I will focus on shunga’s distinguishing features and use Martha Nussbaum‘s seven ways of objectifying to examine the depiction of women to ascertain to what extent they were objectified. Starting with how partial nudity, the exaggeration of genitals and the use of text can create both objectification and subjectivity.
Art can act like a mirror which reflects the society that creates it, but art can also offer illusions and a diversion from that which is lacking in its viewers’ lives. Therefore, I will question the emphasis on mutual pleasure and equality between men and women in shunga, and to what extent it reflects relationships in Edo society. I will discuss how this apparent equality may obfuscate notions of objectification. Attitudes to sexuality as depicted in shunga will be offered as an example of gender inequality.
Finally, I will consider women’s agency and the notion of consent. Scenes of coercion are infrequent in shunga, but are notable for the moral judgement implied in the negative way men are depicted and for the way women are not portrayed as passive victims. However, I will suggest that for Edo women the notion of choice and consent in relation to sex is problematised by women’s status in a patriarchal and highly structured society.
"
Sexually explicit art is a polemical subject and even finding the right terms to discuss it is difficult. As the ‘quote’ in the title suggests, many people dismiss the idea that a sexually explicit work can be art. Because art and pornography are commonly held to be mutually exclusive categories, if it is not art then it must be something else, and usually this ‘other’ is named pornography. However, ‘pornography’, ‘erotic’ and ‘art’ are not fixed or neutral terms and, because categorisation can have a legal and practical impact on museums and viewers, they require clarification.
I will discuss definitions of the terms ‘erotic’, ‘obscene’, ‘pornography’ and ‘art’, including exploring the relationship between form and class, value judgements, private versus public space, and explain how these relate to the art/porn/erotic debate.
Definitions are not static but culturally dependent and time-specific. To foreground the importance of cultural context in relation to sex, I will contrast definitions and UK attitudes to sex in art with those of Edo Japan (1603-1868).
"