“Should I just beat the shit out of her?” “OK, so what are we going to do?” a man standing off-camera asks in a voice that sounds as if it has been digitally altered. She wears a cropped black top with a plunging v-neck, a baby pink plaid miniskirt (not unlike the one worn by Britney Spears in the schoolgirl-themed music video for “… Baby One More Time”), and white high heels-otherwise known as “stripper shoes.” She has long, dark hair with short bangs and bright blue eyes rimmed with heavy black eyeliner. Her look is that of a 21st century Bettie Page. As the camera closes in on her, she smiles tentatively and crosses her arms protectively. In all likelihood, this is one more cheap hotel room located somewhere in the greater Los Angeles territory that has come to be known, colloquially, as Porn Valley.Īt the center of the screen, a young woman is perched on the edge of the couch, alone.
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The movie set into which we are peering is your garden variety, run-of-the-mill porno fare: tan sofa, white walls, hideous curtains. In the living room, the man and I are sitting on a dingy beige sectional sofa, watching an adult movie playing on a laptop. Outside, a woman whose hair has been dyed the color of cherry Kool-Aid is smoking a cigarette on a narrow balcony overlooking a half-empty parking lot. More info: Website, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter (h/t: Beinart Gallery).At a certain point during the week that I spend in Los Angeles, interviewing adult performers, visiting adult movie sets, and talking to those who live in the San Fernando Valley and work in the adult movie industry about the recession and how the current state of the economy is affecting their livelihood, I find myself in a nondescript apartment on the outskirts of the Valley, the residence of a man who requested I not reveal his identity. When the artist, with good reason, hints at an awkward state of affairs, an imbalance between nature and corporeality, between man and his environment, this is the artistic impulse, which would be unnecessary if circumstances were in balance. This is also the discursive crux, for that which is natural and obvious speaks for itself and needs no artistic involvement. ‘Bathing’ men, women and children, as in the works ‘The River’ or ‘C-section’, for example, should be something so natural, something so normal, almost banal even, yet still ‘beautiful’ as well, so that it would in principle be pointless to have to take as a central theme this bathing as a natural, an obvious leisure time activity. In an artistic way she concretizes a discourse which elucidates man’s dilemma by consistently concealing this. She shows no utopian wishful thinking, but rather creative possibilities. Realistic and at the same time peaceful – just ‘natural’ – is how Susannah Martin’s works of art could be described, for in spite of a harmonious idyll, the artist in no way hints at that paradise worth striving for. In this case, the Greek and Egyptian civilizations.
Its main references come from time immemorial, from the time of cavemen and from ancient civilizations in which nudity was something natural and widely present in the arts, sports, and religion, without taboos or the constant and latent connotation of eroticism. They serve as a symbol that represents man in his purest and most original form in harmony with his eternal home: nature - a return to it, to be more precise. New York-born, Berlin-based artist Susannah Martin reconnects humanity to nature through paintings that explore nudity and primordial innocence in paradisiacal landscapes filled with domestic animals and gentle wildlings.
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