Depraved
The Story of Dangerous Art
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- £15.99
Publisher Description
'From classical painting to video games, this survey of the taboo and the twisted won't let you look away . . . A timely and punchy new book' Guardian
'Skips with panache across periods and genres, connecting disparate ideas and artworks . . . Even at its most provocative, Dixon's book remains lucid and engaging' Alastair Sooke, Daily Telegraph
'Compelling . . . Dixon, in this deeply impressive book, argues that art can help change the world. Let's hope she's right' New Statesman
What makes an artwork immoral? Why do these troubling creations have such a hold on us? And how should we deal with them?
We live in a moment when the dangers of art seem more prevalent than ever: artists are 'cancelled' for their misdeeds, public statues are toppled, images of violence and obscenity await us at the touch of a button. But as this provocative new history demonstrates, we humans have always used art to make sense of the less innocent aspects of ourselves and the world around us.
In Depraved, philosopher of art Daisy Dixon takes the reader on a journey through some of the most volatile and contentious works ever produced - from prehistoric sculpture to extreme metal music, Renaissance paintings to video games. She reveals how beautiful art can sometimes be the most insidious, and why the greatest threat might lie in our own judgements about the art we censor or condemn.
Above all, Dixon builds a powerful case for returning the terrible gaze of our disturbing creations, showing how we can confront them head-on and tame their toxic effects.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Art that depicts rape, slaughter, and problematic historical figures should be criticized but not necessarily censored, according to this probing debut treatise. Cardiff University philosophy professor Dixon surveys controversial art from Stone Age fertility figurines to the Marquis de Sade's tales of sexual torture, and ponders the problems it raises. Crusades against obscenity, she notes, can hinge on arbitrary notions of sexual morality, and claims that artistic depictions of violence inspire crime are hard to prove. More pernicious is art that puts a beautiful gloss on hate speech or toxic narratives, as with scenes of sexual violence like Titian's The Rape of Europa, which Dixom argues glamorizes male aggression. Viewers also shouldn't disregard artists' morality when judging their works: Hitler produced seemingly anodyne landscapes, yet Dixon discerns "a monster prowling within pastoral scenes," an insidious nostalgia for an imagined Aryan past. Dixon asserts that art should be challenged when it encourages sexism, racism, or cultural appropriation, but her preferred remedy, articulated in a section on the toppling of memorials to Confederate general Robert E. Lee, is to create more art that contests these themes. Dixon insists that concerns about morality and justice are important without losing sight of art's aesthetic imperatives, and she writes incisively about the interplay between the two. The result is an insightful, timely analysis that gives full weight to both art and conscience.
