(Note: this post contains an image that I find offensive. Read at your own risk.)
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Thérèse Dreaming,
1938, Balthus, courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art
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A petition started by New Yorker Mia Merrill to have it
removed has gathered almost 11,000 signatures. “Given the current climate
around sexual assault and allegations that become more public each day, in
showcasing this work for the masses without providing any type of
clarification, The Met is, perhaps unintentionally, supporting voyeurism and
the objectification of children,” states the petition.
The Met has a long-standing policy against censorship. “Moments
such as this provide an opportunity for conversation, and visual art is one of
the most significant means we have for reflecting on both the past and the
present, and encouraging the continuing evolution of existing culture through
informed discussion and respect for creative expression,” they responded.
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The White Skirt by
Balthus, 1937, is a painting of Balthus’ wife in her mid-30s. He makes sure
that we understand her aristocratic background by the drape, at right.
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Balthus was a terrific liar about his own history, changing
the details to suit his audience. Genetics refute his tale of being descended
from the Polish and Russian nobility: his son died at age two from Tay-Sachs
disease, indicating that one of Balthus’ parents was an Ashkenazi Jew. He
and his brother both adopted the Rola
coat of arms, although any connection to the Polish petit nobility was
spurious.
But there was something about the family that attracted
celebrity. The German poet Rainer Maria Rilke was Balthus’ mother’s lover. Balthus married twice, once to a Swiss
aristocrat and once to a Japanese beauty 34 years his junior. His son was a famous
London playboy in the 1960s. Balthus’ funeral in 2001 was attended by international
celebrities. Bono sang.
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Girl in Green and Red,
1944, is also a portrait of Balthus’ wife, who by then was approaching middle
age.
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“A bad man is the sort of man who admires innocence,” said
Oscar Wilde. Balthus may have paid homage to innocence, but he probably slept with it,
too. His models Laurence
Bataille and Fré´dé´rique Tison both said they had affairs with the artist
while in their teens.
There is nothing one can say in defense of The Guitar Lesson. If this wasn’t high
art, the owner (a private individual) would be doing time for possessing child
pornography. Balthus painted several studies of this, including one with a male
teacher.
Equally unnerving was his habit of painting adult women as
little girls. His wife was in her early thirties when she posed for The White Skirt, and even older when she
posed for Girl in Green and Red. In both cases, he gives her the face and body of an adolescent.
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The Guitar Lesson,
1934, Balthus
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By the end of his life, Balthus was pretty well sexed-out. In
the 1990s, he took a series of 2,000 Polaroids of the youngest daughter of his
doctor. Every Wednesday afternoon, from the age of eight until the age of 16, Anna
Wahli posed for him, usually semi-naked. "It took such a long time
to change what seemed to be a minute detail and, from my point of view, all the
photographs looked alike,” she wrote.
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One of 2000 Polaroids taken by Balthus in the last years of
his life. If you want, you can buy them in coffee-table book form for about
$350. (Courtesy Gagosian Gallery)
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When he was 14, Balthus told a friend that he
wanted to remain a child forever. That’s hardly exculpatory; I imagine a
lot of pedophiles do. Nor is the fact that Balthus is so compelling as a
painter. That just makes him a better pornographer than most.
Formally, Balthus’ paintings are brilliant. He took the painting
style of the Italian Renaissance, and jazzed it up with vivid color and compositional
innovation. But instead of the Virgin Mary, we have his own fantasies about
little girls. As social mores change, what do we do with him?
It’s a difficult question. I didn’t appreciate my own
work being censored, and I don’t approve of censoring
history. I’m equally opposed to sexualizing children, however, and I don’t
think high art should get a special pass. However, Balthus’ paintings are now worth
millions. They’re not going away any time soon.
Mia Merrill is not asking for the painting to be permanently
shelved. “I would consider this petition a success if the Met included a
message as brief as, ‘Some viewers find this piece offensive or disturbing,
given Balthus’ artistic infatuation with young girls,’” she wrote.
I signed.
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