Berger and Bordo both believe that even if you and I were to choose our own identities—which would imply that our identities consist of more than our intrinsic nature—we are constantly breathing in and out “Culture” as if it were air. Culture is what surrounds us; it is our visible and invisible environment. There is no escape. It still exists even when we are holding our breaths and closing our eyes. In Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual Culture, the editors define culture as “the shared practices of a group, community, or society, through which meaning is made out of the visual, aural, and textual world of representations” (Sturken and Cartwright 3). Thus, according to the editors, whether we are aware of it or not we are constantly encoding and decoding information shared within culture. So, if culture is a shared practice, we are the ones producing culture and if so, what’s the big deal? Both Berger and Bordo would agree that we live in a capitalistic consumerist society in which cultural products go through the process of commodification, which produces the “shared practices” we call culture. In this commodity culture, the production of cultural representations of the kind of world we live in, which we depend on in order to make sense of our place in the world, is dependent upon who gains the power for what purpose or “what sells” and “what sells to whom.”
Furthermore, Berger and Bordo would argue that images play a significant role in spreading ideologies that generate or have the potential to generate maximum profit. These images interpellate the viewer in that they position us as the viewer they wish us to be, speaking to us as if we were that viewer, which helps shape us into an ideological subject. Using reproductions of images, corporations produce dominant ideologies, often offered as “common sense,” which are constantly in flux with other ideas and values. Berger’s idea on mystification seems relevant to the definition of “ideology” by Marx that “the masses are instilled with the dominant ideology of the ruling class and that constitutes a kind of false consciousness” while Bordo’s perspective seems to align with Antonio Gramsci’s definition of “hegemony” that describes how “dominant ideologies are always in flux and under contestation from other ideas and values” (Sturken and Cartwright 357).
In exemplifying the power of images and cultural implications of that power, in their essays, Berger demystifies visual representations of European history in classical art, while Bordo deconstructs visual representations of the male body in advertisements. Bordo’s work is a continuum of Berger’s work in which Berger initiates that the “language of images” is ubiquitous in our visual culture and “what matters now is who uses that language for what purpose” (118). Berger’s example of the painting Venus and Mars, serves as a preface to Bordo’s reading of the images in advertisements. Berger simply crops the face of Venus, taking it out of the original context, and “an allegorical figure becomes a portrait of a girl” (112). As Berger puts it, “In the age of pictorial reproduction the meaning of paintings…becomes transmittable” (111).
This “transmittable” quality of meaning is what allowed Calvin Klein and many other advertisers there after, to reproduce dominant ideologies of the female body and feminine qualities onto images of the male body. This “dynamic tension” (133) between masculinity and femininity creates a fantasy world where women are given the power to gaze upon a seductive male, and where men are positioned to desire the suitably fit body of the male model—consequently both women and men feel the need to buy the underwear of that brand and find the new type of male body attractive. Looking at the two Calvin Klein ads, one with the averted look of willing subordination (133) and the other recent “Escape” ad with a young man leaning against the wall with the copy reading “Take Me” (148), one might assume that this “male sexual ambiguity” mirrors or reflects our culture. However, this “attitude of male sexual supplication” (133) is a new trend in contemporary mainstream representations and is not readily accepted by many. As Bordo writes, “For many men…to be so passively dependent on the gaze of another person for one’s sense of self-worth is incompatible with being a real man” (134) and “Women aren’t used to seeing naked men frankly portrayed as ‘objects’ of a sexual gaze (and neither are heterosexual men)” (138). So as Bordo suggests, the new representation of the male body is a representation that has the “possibility and profitability of…a ‘dual marketing’ approach” creating a “variety of potential consumers, straight and gay, male and female” (141).
If advertisers invent a fantasy world to serve their purpose, Berger argues that a privileged minority invents a history to “retrospectively justify the role of the ruling classes” (100). In a study published on Frans Hals, an authoritative art critic writes of the Regentesses of the Old Med’s Alms House:
Subtle modulations of the deep, glowing blacks contribute to the harmonious fusion of the whole and form an unforgettable contrast with the powerful whites and vivid flesh tones where the detached strokes reach a peak of breadth and strength. [Berger’s italics] (101)
Berger asserts that this author writes as though the composition of the painting itself is the emotional charge of the painting, while using terms like harmonious fusion, unforgettable contrast, reaching a peak of breadth and strength, transferring the provoked emotion from “lived experience” to disinterested “art appreciation” (101). Not only does this art critic mystify the painting, he also mystifies the artist in referring to
Hal’s unwavering commitment to his personal vision, which enriches our consciousness of our fellow men and heightens our awe for the ever-increasing power of the mighty impulses that enabled him to give us a close view of life’s vital forces. (103)
The author of this authoritative work, Berger would argue, is creating a fantasy world in order to justify values that “can no longer make sense in modern terms” (100) as a “final empty claim for the continuing values of an oligarchic, undemocratic culture” (110). Hals, Berger writes, “was the first portraitist to paint the new characters and expressions created by capitalism” (103). The drama of Hals’ paintings, Berger suggests, comes from the confrontation of the Regents and the Regentesses and Hals “who has lost his reputation and who must try to surmount the way he sees as a pauper” (102).
Both Berger and Bordo would agree that for us to “see” the art of the past, and to “see” the advertisements of the present, we must “situate ourselves in history” (100). We need to place ourselves in the historical context, and understand the situation. For Berger this means we must examine the culture of the past, the values and ideologies of the past, and the power relationship between different classes, race, and gender without a bias for the “privileged minority.” For Bordo this means we have to understand how we came about to this phenomenon of young, naked, sexually ambiguous male bodies being displayed in advertisements. In her essay she guides the reader along the history of the representation of the male body from fashion to movies, from Greek culture to existential philosophy to contemporary representations. She also reminds us that the naked and near-naked female body has been an object of mainstream consumption and has been sexually objectified (131). She says, now, for the sake of profit, it’s the men’s turn to be on display. And what are the consequences?
Berger answers, “When we are prevented from seeing it [the art of the past], we are being deprived of a history which belongs to us” (100). A reality is created where unless you are the “privileged minority,” you have no authority or agency to know art. We believe we don’t have a say in what a classical painting means because we are not the ones who can publish what we think they mean. However, if classical art, which is essentially the products and producers of past culture, were open to everyone (this has happened through reproductions, yet museums still exist) and if we were to believe that anyone can learn the historical context (especially if art history were taught in such way), then we would have a better understanding of where we are coming from and how our culture came to be what it is now. In other words, we would have a better understanding of ourselves because we would have the understanding of our history and culture which more or less defines our identities, and we would be taking active agency in choosing and defining for ourselves what we value in our lives and why.
Likewise, female or male, gay or straight, when our values on sexuality, gender, beauty, masculinity, femininity, and attractiveness are essentially the same, we are deprived of our unique identities. If we were to pay attention to our own unique beauty—which I truly believe comes from the uniqueness of each of our minds, experiences and personalities—we would feel more comfortable in our own skins. The danger of buying into mainstream ideals can be detrimental to our identities, as Bordo writes, “Obsessively pursuing these ideals has deprived both men and women of the playful eros of beauty, turned it all into constant, hard work,” and unfortunately, “Consumer culture…can even grind playfulness into a commodity, a required item for this year’s wardrobe” (174).
Works Cited
Bartholomae, David, and Anthony Petrosky, eds. Ways of Reading: An Anthology for Writers. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2008.Berger, John. “Ways of Seeing.” Ways of Reading: An Anthology for Writers. Eds. David Bartholomae and Anthony Petrosky. 8th ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2008.
Bordo, Susan. “Beauty (Re)discovers the Male Body.” Ways of Reading: An Anthology for Writers. Eds. David Bartholomae and Anthony Petrosky. 8th ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2008.
Sturken, Marita, and Lisa Cartwright. Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual Culture. New York: Oxford UP, 2001.
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