“We should be creating lots of awesome, great alternatives to pornography,” said Emma Watson to Gloria Steinem last week while discussing the differences between pornography and erotica.
As she uttered the words, 10 years of the Feminist Porn Awards, 39 years of Good Vibrations, and the entire back catalogue of On Our Backs sighed in unison. While Watson’s favourite new erotic app, OMGYES.com, is pretty interesting and cute, it definitely has an educational slant rather than an artistic one, in part by being explicitly interactive rather than encouraging more passive enjoyment.
But what about the difference between porn and erotic art, which is not so easily defined, yet so often cited as the bright line between what is beautiful and what is filth?
Pornography is often seen as the least valid form of art (if art at all); it's got a reputation as compulsorily obscene, campy, known for its terrible actors and cheesy music. Media that is arguably pornographic often fights the designation, in an effort to be called “art” instead, to retain some sense of legitimacy and availability of access.
Art tries to be subversive in some way; arguments against pornography ignore that art, too, is often interrogated for being obscene. Why is porn so often seen as a homogenic thing, while art is allowed to be varied in its expression (even, and almost especially, when that expression is problematic)?
This frustration came to a head for me when I read a piece a while back in Esquire about amazing indie porn company Four Chambers, and Vex Ashley, “the 25 year old trying to change the porn industry”. She made the point of saying that while her work is beautiful and perhaps not as explicit as other adult media, “tasteful porn” isn’t the genre she’s aiming for per se.
“The idea that the porn I make is tasteful and, therefore acceptable, means that there is also an unacceptable and 'wrong' [version of porn] and that is not a helpful argument to make.”
What boggles my mind is this idea that there’s a distinction, a line that’s widely believed to be clear, between porn and art, or even obscenity or filth and art. There have always been artists who push the limits of what can and will be labeled as such, and still are; just last year, when Japanese artist Rokude Nashiko was under threat of a 2 year jail sentence for her art project, a kayak designed from a 3D print of her vulva.
In the United Kingdom, 30 pornographers met up over the weekend to discuss ongoing battles with censorship and its impact on their industry. One of the topics of conversation was brainstorming how to sidestep increasingly absurd guidelines on what was “art” and what was “obscene”.
“When Hollywood is able to show bondage, gags, torture, rape, and sexual violence at every turn, the distinction between 'pornographic' and 'non-pornographic' works begins to feel entirely arbitrary,” says director Pandora Blake in her blog covering the event–and she’s not wrong.
Tabatha Leggett, in a piece for the New Statesman, states, “Only when we stop confusing artistic merit with ethical deformity can we start having interesting conversations about what constitutes 'artistic' pornography and whether there’s a market for it.”
This led me to ask–what about directors who have also been called into question for their morality? Are we so uncomfortable with pornography that as studios develop their own shooting styles and visions we have to grasp at straws to find the divide between porn and art?
I decided to compare various indie porn studios with famous directors I consider them similar to, to confront and challenge what I see as a false dichotomy.
Urban Chick Supremacy Cell - Lizzie Borden
When I first started thinking about porn and art, the Urban Chick Supremacy Cell, directed by Ms. Tytania, immediately came to mind. The only UK fetish site to have fought the Authority for Television on Demand for the right to remain and uncensored online as performance art - and won! - the UC-SC is radical, darkly humourous, and feminist to its core.
“For me, there is no difference between high art and low art, between porn, cinema or performance,” she said to me during an interview.
“Porn is a cinematic language and genre in itself, and one that has given me the ideal tools and grammar to explore the subjects that were already present in my drawings, writing and performances while at art college… the difference between obscenity and art have always been subjective and time sensitive, its goalposts constantly being moved by the morality of each age.”
I couldn't of a better director to pair her with than Lizzie Borden, a feminist filmmaker whose work investigated and interrogated race, class, power, capitalism, and gender. Gritty, mockumentary in style, and deeply charged, made with a modest budget but a lot of passion, Borden’s work has been considered among the most important among independent films. Ms. Tytania’s pornography, which confronts many of the same issues just as starkly and unapologetically, is a kindred declaration of feminist rebellion.
Four Chambers - Sofia Coppolla
Ethereal and dreamy, Four Chambers, run by Vex Ashley, speaks a similar language to Sofia Coppolla. Each scene by Four Chambers is a beautiful character study of the performers involved, even when they don’t say a word. Music, lighting, and camera angles entwine to create work that is as haunting as it is gorgeous to watch. There is an intimacy in Ashley’s work the comes through in each piece.
“I think there’s a lot of interesting discussion to be had by appropriating roles and themes from history and culture in a modern, sexual setting, Ashley said in an interview with Erika Lust.
“I think the way these stories are retold from history (although heavy in sexual undertones) often leave their female characters passive. I reimagine them with power and sexual agency, confronting the camera. I think there are elements of these stories and characters we reference that are universal to a modern experience of sex and power and we enjoy playing with that relationship.”
Soft Serve - Sadie Benning
Porn performer and performance artist Cinnamon Maxxine is in the process of nursing this up-and-coming baby softcore porno company they call “porno for prudes”. With a passion for campiness mixed with sexual imagery, and a artist statement around creating space and work for POC porn performers, Maxxine’s work is conceptual, thoughtful, critical and compelling.
Similarly, Sadie Benning’s filmmaking style both uses and parodies pop culture in an attempt to address issues of alienation and representation. Both work in multiple mediums to achieve their artistic and political goals.
“I’ve been told time and time again from people in the queer community, the feminist porn community, and other “'nclusive' communities, 'thanks, but no thanks'. Or I’ve just never heard back. And much of the time I know why… it’s because of the way I look,” said Maxxine in a blog entry about inclusivity in porn.
“It’s a combination of my size, the way my fat is on my body, my color, and features. If I had more subtly 'black' features, I may (may) have a better chance. The inclusive queer and feminist adult industries that many of us belong to are still perpetuating racism, fat phobia, and ridiculous mainstream beauty standards. And if you don’t fit those standards, then you get less attention, less opportunities, and less work. You’re part of the problem when you don’t try to change the issues.”
Soft Serve was, in part, developed to address these issues while also providing an alternative to the explicitness of the queer porn out there.
Heartless Productions - John Waters
Every Heartless Productions piece I’ve seen delights me and makes me recoil in some way. I delight in that feeling of uncertainty between finding it erotic and finding it a little too much; in my eyes, this studio is like a new coming of the Prince of Pervs, John Waters. The campiness of Heartless Productions films is absolutely part of the charm, whether it’s channeling b-movie horror in “The Plague Doctor” or 50s bad girl films in “Girl Gang”.
Jacqueline Mary, director/creatrix for Heartless Productions, agreed wholeheartedly with my comparison.
“That makes sense. He’s the king of filth and I’ve been filthy my whole life. i loved the queerness in all his films–all his films are so queer, and it was so explicit, it wasn't even an issue. And all his films have fucking and sex in them–they aren’t porn, but they’re vulgar and deviant. I like to try to find that balance in my own work.”
Pink and White - Alfred Hitchcock
I have to admit some laziness here. With Pink and White wrapping up their fifth feature length movie, SNAPSHOT, an erotic mystery thriller where the murder is never seen on screen, Hitchcock was picking the low hanging fruit. However, it’s not just director Shine Louise Houston’s love for filming in San Francisco that caused me to draw a comparison.
Her films have a tendency to create tension and then relieve it with some humour before catching the viewer back up in wondering what’s going to happen next, something Hitchcock was a master of. Having every single aspect of each shot be conscious and meaningful also seems to be very central to Houston’s filming style. Even when shooting pornographic content, Houston has a keen eye for detail and nuance that gives layers of rewatch value to her work.
Potential porn stars for the Crash Pad Series may be glad to hear, however, that Houston does not send her performers through the emotional wringer that Hitchcock was known for.
Becoming a producer myself has forced me to confront my belief that I am not an artist myself, but rather a logistical and practical planner. As I delve deeper and deeper into filmmaking, I’m discovering my own style–whether I’m seeking it to be so or not, pornography is an art form, and I get to decide if I want to be on the beautiful, mythical side of XXX expression, or the dirty, smutty side, or swirl them together.
The director that inspires my porn work the most? Probably David Lynch–incredibly confusing, dark, what the fuck is going on, why is there corn, is this even sexual anymore?
And if that’s not art, I don’t know what is.