Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
Drawing on Arabian Nights, the title of Dr Emily Christensen and Dr Ambra D’Antone’s exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery’s Project Space. We spoke to Emily and Ambra to discuss what the exhibition tells us about 19th century - as well as contemporary Western - views of the Middle East and North Africa…
There is an interesting contradiction in 19th century Europeans viewing Muslim countries as lascivious and immoral… To what extent were artists projecting their own repressed desires?
On the one hand, the visual tropes of Orientalism allowed artists to depict social and sexual behaviours that would not be acceptable on canvas if attributed to Western figures or societies. The Oriental setting enabled a process of ‘othering’, by means of which the supposed corruption seen on canvas could be projected onto the Orient and enjoyed visually by Europeans without moral recrimination. On the other hand, it is also not uncommon for Orientalist art to represent men as irrationally submissive to religion and lacking in the kind of rational, critical intellect attributed to the West.
There was obviously a power dynamic in the European artists belonging to an imperial power; was this power dynamic abused?
Orientalism was both a product and a stimulus for a wave of tourism towards North Africa and the Middle East in the 19th and early 20th century, made possible and prompted by Imperialist domination of the region. One particularly disturbing consequence of the exploitation of these lands, and of their promotion as a tourist destination, was the increased trend of sexual tourism. A well-known documentation of this can be found in the travelogue of French novelist Gustave Flaubert, who travelled to Egypt and the Middle East in 1849. Flaubert documents very explicitly his encounters with underage prostitutes in a manner that reveals his contempt for them as less-than-human. Prostitution, a consequence of the widespread poverty which affected the locals, was understood by individuals like Flaubert as an important part of “the experience” a man ought to have while travelling in the Orient.
Was painting the Odalisque (sex slave) a way to bypass condemnation back in Europe, by directing the social distaste toward the Orient rather than the artist?
Yes…. taking the figure of the Odalisque: despite first impressions, these often life-like scenes are totally imagined fantasy constructions produced by French artists, mostly in studios in Paris, featuring French models. The idea seems to have emerged because in Islamic societies, the women’s quarters were closed to western travellers and consequently became thoroughly misunderstood subjects for sexual fantasies. These paintings have been described by art historian Linda Nochlin as: “a project of the imagination, a fantasy space or screen onto which strong desires – erotic, sadistic or both – could be projected with impunity.” These paintings tell us almost nothing about social and cultural customs and behaviours in North Africa or the Middle East; perhaps surprisingly, however, they tell us quite a lot about customs and behaviours in 19th century France.
Paintings of naked women were only allowed into the official Salon exhibitions in Paris if the woman was presented as a mythological or allegorical figure; a contemporary naked woman was not considered a morally acceptable subject for art unless she was portrayed in a foreign, exotic, Oriental setting. The implication of this is that depicting – and looking at – a contemporary naked European woman would be prurient, and it would somehow imbue both the artist and viewer with impure thoughts, but depicting her in an Oriental setting shifted that moral judgement onto the Other – the supposedly morally corrupt Oriental.
Do we have any examples of women artists in the 19th century using the orient in the same way?
We have extensive evidence that women artists were as involved in Orientalist art as their male colleagues, with accounts that point to the fact that the attitudes of women artists towards the stereotypes of Orientalism were also varied and not necessarily less biased because of their gender. For instance, in the 1860s Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann was invited to visit the harem of the Ottoman Mustafa Fazil Pasha with the intention to ask permission to paint the young princess Nazli Hanim. And although what she encountered inside the harems presented a profound challenge to the exotic stereotype that she had been expecting, and although the women she met contradicted her expectations, some of the paintings of the princess that Jerichau-Baumann produced comply with familiar Western fantasies of the harem in which the odalisque is alluring object of desire. The painter acknowledged that she took pleasure in these fantasies.
On the other hand, in the work of Henriette Browne we see a very different approach. In The Visit, Browne wishes to show instead a more mundane and less titillating side of the harems as spaces of everyday activities, gossip, leisure and childcare for the community of women around the house – images that have little to do with the boudoirs conjured by other painters.
To what extent do you think the imperial gaze is ingrained in how Europeans see these works?
These works are the product of imperial visual culture and speak to the facts of Empire. Whether an imperial gaze is ingrained may depend on the extent to which European viewers are familiar with postcolonial studies - more generally, it is important to note that these are works that can generate different meanings depending on who is looking at them. This is particularly the case if we consider that some of the most prolific collectors of Orientalist art in recent decades are in the Gulf. In these cases, research shows a preference for certain themes over others, which, when viewed as coherent collections, suggests that these are works with complex and continuously shifting meanings.
Drawing on Arabian Nights is showing at The Courtauld until 3rd June.
Make sure to collect your Yamos on the gowithYamo app when you visit!
