Brian McAvera sees Colin Davidson wrestle with sexual politics in his new series of Nudes on view this autumn at Oliver Sears Gallery, Dublin.
Irish art, historically speaking, is not noted for its depiction of sexuality. The genre of The Nude, one of the mainstays of the classical European tradition, is rarely practised. As a genre, the nude nowadays is problematical. When Kenneth Clark, in 1956, made his distinction between the naked (no clothes on) and the nude (an art form, a way of seeing) he was of the opinion that the word ‘nude’ carried no negative connotations. Presumably he hadn’t heard of the Whitehall ‘nudie’ shows. Nowadays the word, in a world incorporating Page Three nudes and internet porn, carries distinctly negative overtones. Perhaps John Berger was rather more precise when, in 1972, he remarked that to be naked is to be oneself whereas to be nude is to be seen naked by others and yet not recognized as oneself. One is a voyeur, and the woman, or man, has become an object. Once upon a time The Nude was both an academic exercise as well as being a demonstration of one’s mastery of varying techniques. The question now, I suppose, in this highly sexualized world that we live in, is: of what relevance is The Nude today?
Can the pragmatic 21st-century East range at Trinity College Dublin match the 18th-century splendour of the West Front? James Howley appraises recent developments on the campus
Behind the bustle and colour of the 2016 graduate shows Gerry Walker finds a wealth of well-researched, accomplished projects.
William Turner de Lond captured two significant political events during his sojourn in Ireland, examined here by Mary Jane Boland.