Viewing the Private in Public: a Critical Analysis of Sex Work in Art

Title: Viewing the Private in Public: a Critical Analysis of Sex Work inArt

Author: Esme Scott

Publication Year/Date: May 2024

Document Version: Fine Art Hons dissertation

License: CC-BY-NC-ND

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/bync-nd/4.0/

DOI: https://doi.org/10.20933/100001303

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ABSTRACT

This dissertation aims to make clear the profound impact of sex workers in contemporary art by critically analysing works by artists Betty Tompkins, Lindsay Dye, and Gloria Heilman-C. This will be achieved by exploring how representations challenge the conventional boundaries between pornography and erotic art, prompting a re-evaluation of their distinctions. Another goal is to unveil how the use of sex workers highlights issues of fetishization, commodification, and objectification in contemporary art.

The initial chapter lays the theoretical groundwork, drawing on various academic perspectives to differentiate pornography from erotic art. The subsequent chapters delve into individual artworks: first, Tompkins’ Fuck Painting 4 (1972) is examined for its subversive take on pornographic imagery and its critique of male-dominated visual narratives; then, Dye’s Public Sittings (n.d.) is analysed in terms of how the conflation of the private and public spheres is put into question when the sex worker becomes artist and art subject; and lastly, Heilman-C’s Sex Acts (1996) is discussed for its provocative challenging of already established artistic roles and norms. This dissertation concludes by reflecting on all the above information provided, offering a nuanced stance on this complex debate.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION

Art and sex are two of the oldest professions in the world (Wickman, 2012), so it is no surprise that throughout history, sex workers have had a vital role in art and can be seen in a plethora of work (Tobutt, 2020). Conceived by Scarlot Harlot (1951-2022) in 1987, the title “sex worker” refers to a person who exchanges sexual services for money or goods, such as pornography or prostitution (Philbrick, 2020), however, this has now developed into an umbrella term that also encompasses more modern practices of sex work such as, stripping, web-camming, and escorting too. For the purpose of this dissertation, when using the term sex worker, I will be referring to the female sex worker and thereby the binaries that society holds against women who confidently express their sexuality. Regarding the subject of pornography and sex work, no one feminist agrees with another feminist and so for the purposes of this dissertation, the definition of feminism will relate to all feminisms. Feminism, by definition, meaning the general “political stance and commitment to change the political position of women and promote gender equality, based on the thesis that women are subjugated because of their gendered body, i.e. sex”, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. For the benefit of those reading this dissertation, a glossary can be found to the rear of this text, which should be consulted for words that one might not be so familiar with in the context of sex work.

This dissertation investigates the image of sex workers within contemporary art practice through the critical theory of works by Betty Tompkins (b. 1945), Lindsay Dye (b. 1989) and Gloria Heilman-C (b. 1961) The objective of this research is to examine how these selected female artists use the sex worker’s body to comment on larger societal and cultural issues within art and the wider world. The inquiry will draw on writings of theorists, historians, philosophers, and art critics with interests in this area, including Laura Mulvey (1941), Amelia Jones (b.1961), Dr Susan Block (b.1955), Lynda Nead (b.1957) and Hans Maes (b.1975) as well as first-hand accounts from figures like Sophia Giovannitti (b.1992) and Lindsay Dye This investigation is particularly pertinent, given the scarcity of first-hand narratives and the persistent stigma surrounding sex work which leads to the continuing disinterest to represent those that know the real-life actualities of sex work. This subject area is also relevant to my own creative practice as I am currently creating work about my own experience as both artist and sex worker.

Structured into four chapters, the dissertation begins with “Pornography versus Erotic Art”, which details the distinctions previous academics have fostered to enable the separation of obscene pornography from venerated art. The second chapter, “Model” will discuss Betty Tompkins use of the sex worker as model in her series Fuck Paintings (19691974) and how she was pivotal in redefining what was considered ‘decent’ content for female artists to use as subject matter in a male venerated and controlled art environment. The third chapter, “Artist”, goes on to discuss Lindsay Dye’s on going work, Public Sittings (n.d.), highlighting the duality of the female form present in the illicit world of pornography and the revered realm of art when the sex worker is both creator and subject. Finally, chapter four, “Muse”, analyses Gloria Heilman-C’s work Sex Acts (1996) and its impact on audience engagement and the blurring of roles within performance art. I will conclude with a summary under conclusion, in which reflections will be made in relation to the analysis discussed within the previous paragraphs.

In these works, artists incorporate sex workers’ bodies into art, prompting a critique of how society and capitalism commodify the female form. By introducing explicit content, they challenge viewers to consider their complicity in the objectification of women and call

into question the commercialisation of desire and the fetishization of the female nude, prompting a re-evaluation of their place within capitalist systems.

Ultimately, this dissertation will argue that despite initial perceptions, the artistic merit of works that might be labelled as pornography within gallery spaces can be defended by applying the scholarly frameworks that have been provided by philosophers and art critics to separate such works As one of the most universal, natural and emotionally powerful experiences humans have, it is curious that we still try to contain it in the private spaces of our existence. By moving experiences traditionally confined to private spaces into the public eye, these artists provoke thought on the boundaries of art and the potent, universal experiences of sexuality, offering valuable lessons from those who have transcended these limits.

CHAPTER ONE: PORNOGRAPHY VERSUS EROTIC ART

To properly explore the relationship between female sex workers in contemporary art and societal perceptions of women, one must first understand the supposed distinctions between pornography and erotic art. Commonly, ‘pornography’ is perceived negatively, while ‘erotic’ carries more neutral or positive connotations (Cooke, 2012). This distinction, pivotal in many debates, hinges on various factors, but as a precise definition of ‘art’ remains elusive and debated among scholars, one can assume that the distinction is still somewhat of a grey area (Maes, 2012). It is this grey area that I believe ‘pornographic’ artwork actually resides in, not the black and white factors that have been offered to us thus far.

The first factor is representational content. Pornography, often explicit and focusing on anatomy, tends to lack the ability to connect meaningfully with viewers, leading to detachment. (Maes, 2012) Art, in contrast, implies more than it shows, capturing the essence and subjectivity of individuals, fostering a connection (Ellis, 2006). Pornography is characterised by its aggressive and emotionless portrayal of sex, whereas erotic art embodies love, passion, and mutual respect, supported by the etymology of ‘erotic’ from ‘eros’, the Greek word for love, and ‘pornography’ from ‘porne’, meaning prostitute (Steinem, 1995)

The second factor is moral status. It is not enough to label pornography as simply immoral; its differentiation from erotic art lies in content that is often seen as crude but not inherently morally flawed. The argument that pornography is morally objectionable usually centres on notions of exploitation and objectification, as discussed by authors like Andrea Dworkin (b. 1946). However, evidence for such claims is not universally accepted, and an ethical debate continues (McCormack, 2021)

The third factor is artistic quality. Critics often cite the one-dimensional nature of pornography, its mass production, and its non-aesthetic focus as reasons for its lack of artistic merit (Mahon, 2005). In contrast, art is seen as complex, unique, and concerned with beauty (Graham, 2008). It is also imaginative, offering insights into reality, whereas pornography presents a fantasy world tailored to consumer desires (Scruton, 2005).

The success of these attempts to delineate erotic art from pornography is debatable. Many works blur the lines, and additional factors not yet considered could further complicate this distinction. The following chapters aim to explore these nuances and the grey areas in the intersection of art, pornography, and representation.

the voyeur in an intimate relationship with images usually kept within the private sphere of one’s home, thereby pulling the private into the public (Nead, 1992). Furthermore, by reconstructing the pornographic viewing position of the art spectator into her own context, Tompkins obscures the place of the voyeur regarding the fine art institution and thereby remarks on the dual fetishization that occurs in modernism between the female body and fine art object.

As ‘representational content’ and ‘artist quality’ describe, the category of pornography does not showcase a realistic world; it is rather a highly curated genre that offers its audience an engineered depiction of sexual enjoyment that diverges from the actual experience which dominates real life (Scruton, 2005). But Tompkins states that the paintings were intended to act as bare essentials, free from any additional meaning or pretence, reducing the images into simple points of basic interaction between body parts, liberated from any pre-existing narrative,

“I had been studying these tiny photos for a while and thought, ‘you know, if I take out the heads and hands and the feet, all of the signifiers, what’s left is a beautiful abstract group of forms.’ This was an exciting discovery for me… plus Don’s collection of forbidden photos led me very naturally to do the Fuck Paintings.” (Tompkins, 2015)

It seems by this statement that her intentions were harmless, however, Tompkins’ afterthought of the pornographic nature of the work suggests the adopted privileged subject position of men and the male gaze that she assumed, both as recipient of the proceeding pornographic images and as creator of her own version of them (Mahon, 2005). Due to her assumed misogynistic viewpoint, thematic questions began to brew within feminist movements – known for championing their own positive depictions of the female body – and so did art historical reservations at the perceived bastardisation of Abstract Expressionism’s legacy, due to the series’ visceral pornographic content (Liclair, 2022). Minimalism, which Tompkins was taking part in, took the abstract modernist notions a step further, emphasizing that art should focus on its physical qualities rather than trying to represent something external. Emerging at the same time as the conceptual art wave of the 1970s, it aimed to upend traditional ways of making, distributing, and experiencing art in their viewing systems, taking a stand against the overvaluation of art as an elite commodity (Strickland, 2000). This approach was marked by the use of modular components that could be combined to form geometric shapes, emphasising unity, symmetry, and faithfulness to their basic form. Tompkins has said that her use of hardcore subject matter was meant as a direct response to the oversaturation of nondescript abstract painting being produced at the time within this movement (Liclair, 2022). In an effort to create something entirely different, Tompkins chose to depict the erotic and raw with a cool and unemotional technique, using spray paint to remove any chance of sensual mark making on the paintings surface. Her use of the airbrush made for a soft and more indistinguishable image when standing close to these colossal, monochromatic paintings, so to see the details of the sex acts one had to instead be standing far back from them. The Fuck Paintings are thereby only perceptible as having any pornographic exactitude with a certain distance to them, and it’s this elastic quality that interested her. Tess Thackara (n.d.), interviewed Tompkins on this,

“If you walk up close,” she tells me, beckoning me to the painting’s surface, “this is the distance where painters normally paint. It’s an arm’s length away plus a couple of inches, but there’s nothing there. The image dissipates, you have no idea what you’re

first glance as if they have the same objective, to draw attention to female pleasure and away from male dominance. Furthermore, by focusing solely on the genitalia, Tompkins diminishes the presumed power imbalance among the depicted individuals, giving no evidence of who is in charge, both forms equal in their connection to one another. But Tompkins (2015) says that it was especially Semmel herself who strongly disapproved of the Fuck Paintings (1969-1974), an evaluation she made not necessarily on formal grounds but because she renounced pornography as an industry in its current, maleoriented form. Although she is not arguing from an anti-porn perspective that categorically opposes sexually explicit images of women, Semmel still considered Tompkins’ source material to be emblematic for the porn industry’s “sexploitation” of women for mens’ sexual needs and did not think that appropriating such images was compatible with feminist politics (Liclair, 2022). It is these artistic decisions that draw a comparison between the art observer and the voyeur of pornography, challenging the sexist perspectives embedded in modernist art that traditionally presented the female form for male enjoyment (Mulvey, 1975). The way sex workers are portrayed in the series Fuck Paintings (1969-1974) critiques how desire and pleasure have been commercialised through the female body, intertwining the depiction of the female nude with the fetishization of the art piece itself, from reactions such as those documented above.

In our current era, at time of writing, where pornography is readily accessible with just a few clicks, these artworks do not provoke the reaction they once might have. Boundaries between esteemed art and indecency are constantly being redefined, and Tompkins was pivotal in reshaping these limits by infusing pornographic dialogue into the sphere of high culture. She effectively highlighted the constructed and often suppressed depiction of feminine sexuality in the archives of art history, and critically examined the patriarchal structures entrenched within the aesthetics of modernism. In doing so, Tompkins not only questioned but also disrupted the longstanding male perspectives in art, pushing the viewer to reconsider the portrayal of female sexuality and cultural values assigned to images based on their content and context. Thus, her art stands as a testament to the evolving dialogue around the representation of the female form, straddling the realms of art, sexuality, and cultural norms, and compelling society to reflect on its own perceptions and biases, exaggerated of course by the presence of sex workers.

CHAPTER THREE: ARTIST

In a society where beliefs and methodologies significantly influence the control and restriction of women’s sexual expression, and consequently affect sex workers’ autonomy in leveraging their profession for empowerment, the way women are depicted and the hierarchical relationships these depictions endorse, can have profound effects on actual lives and experiences (Philbrick, 2020). Each piece of art that includes a sex worker, presents to the audience a representation of the experience of being a sex worker and thereby a claim to the truth of it, and surely this truth cannot accurately be spoken by any others better than those who have experience in the industry. Jordan Quinn (b.1991), a sex worker and the curator of ‘Sex Workers of Aotearoa’ (2019) argues, “if you’re attempting to portray it from the outside, without being part of it, your work is going to have bias in it, or this preconceived idea of how the finished work should look.” The showing of sex workers’ art thereby has the power to create room for diversity and personal expression while simultaneously encouraging the public to view their profession as more than just a last-ditch way to earn money. There is no doubt that sex workers present their bodies for the voyeur’s consumption, that is its main purpose, but they often also use their platform to educate their viewers and reduce stigma associated about their profession, all while retaining control and independence over their bodies. Ultimately, their performances within art often aim to challenge common stereotypes that can marginalise their community (Giovannitti, 2023). By doing so, they force the audience to reconsider the way they perceive these sex workers, drawing parallels between the desire their bodies provoke and the way art objects are viewed, bought, and owned – same as their pornographic content (Jones, 1998).

Lindsay Dye, an artist and cam girl – someone who performs in sexually-driven online chatrooms – has been purposefully merging the two practices together since 2013. With a background in photography and sculpture, it is no surprise that she found herself drawn to cam work and cake-sitting – a fetish where people derive sexual pleasure from destroying cakes by sitting on them, or watching others sit on cakes, related to wet and messy fetishism (WAM), also known as sploshing, a form of sexual fetishism where someone becomes aroused by copious amounts of a substance being applied to the body. When interviewed about this work – which she calls Public Sittings (n.d.) - Dye spends as much time talking about her work as she does her art due to how intertwined the two are. they are coexistent on one another, neither can exist without the other (Uszerowicz, 2017) When working, Dye gathers material for what will come later, the art Although they are coexistent on one another and neither can exist without the other, she doesn’t view her webcam work as performance art, but rather as research, a resource from which she can draw content and inspiration from, like cake-sitting and its world (Uszerowicz, 2017) Interestingly however, the baking of her cakes, or mouldings of her sculptures if you will, are only documented in her live sex work, not her Public Sittings (n.d.). One might suppose this is because it takes Dye hours to fully construct her multiple layered, bright and highly decorated cakes – not unlike any other traditional sculpture. Like a sculptor, Lindsay prepares in depth drafts of her cake designs to guarantee they come to life as envisioned. She captures each step of the baking process and shares it on her Instagram, giving her 15,000 followers a personal glimpse into her artistry (Radin, 2019).

The explicit nature of her work has led to stringent restrictions and censorship, posing challenges for its distribution and her pursuit of a more secure and safer form of online sex work (Mandel, 2019) In an interview with ‘Vice Magazine’ (2019), Dye (2019) points the reader towards a YouTube link so that they can watch two of her favourite and “most effective” sittings, but after clicking each link you are presented with the same message, video unavailable.

This was obviously not Dye’s intention but effectively highlights one of the issues that artists constantly run into when showing work of this nature. Compare this to how we cheer on social media influencers and celebrities who plaster their social media with riskfree videos of them utilising the tools of sex workers: climbing a pole, putting on pleaser heels and adopting a ‘stripper aesthetic’. If a sex worker posted the same content, social media companies would almost definitely remove it, or worse, temporarily ban the account or delete it completely, effectively endangering their livelihood (Lobberson, 2022). This only lends to exemplify the problem that artists and sex workers face when creating work about the subject of female pleasure, the public and online community consider it to be pornography and sensor genuine art (figure 3.2). Unsurprisingly, Dye has experienced this first hand on multiple occasions with documentation of work that she has uploaded online – YouTube went as far as to send her letters saying how they “do NOT allow fetish content” on their site (Dye, 2019). Nevertheless, Dye has found that online it is more a case of phrasing than the content itself, noting that after responding to YouTube that it was not fetish content but documentation of an art performance, they put it back up, maybe something she learned from the fact that camgirl websites advertise and claim to only be ‘performance work’ sites (Dye, 2019). Although pornography and camming are intended to provide pleasure, they continue to be seen as taboo and illicit aspects of society, but to counter this perception, the industry has sought to adopt the language and aesthetics of the artistic community, seeking to disguise and enhance their material (Philbrick, 2020). If we compare the image of a woman’s body within an adult site versus an art gallery, both places provide an ‘appropriate’ environment for the consumption of the objects/subjects they house but also both instantly insinuate that just by them being there they are only acceptable in the context of their proximity to such an institution. Dye however completely subverts this by smudging the line of where one starts and the other ends, bringing the same works into both spaces and, it is with this pornographic material within art that it begins to move more into the public, shifting the boundary between the domains of art and sex, public and private (Nead, 2001),

Figure 3.2: Screenshot taken from link to Lindsay Dye’s work on YouTube, (2023).

“I thought bringing a fetish from a niche, dark part of the internet into public space where an audience has to deal with it would really subvert the idea of fetish, [the idea] that it’s supposed to be private,” (Dye, 2018).

Being a female artist is not unlike being a female sex worker, in both industries you are expected to contort, appeal, and exploit yourself (Giovannitti, 2023). Both are rife with wildly varied pricing structures, targeted scams, ambiguous legal boundaries, and exploitation; however, most crucially, both can provoke a particular feeling in another person (Giovannitti, 2023). In the realm of sex work, body art acts as a potent critique of both the modernist fixation with the artwork itself and the market-driven commodification of women’s bodies. This practice challenges the established ways in which art is observed by transforming the art object into a living subject, thereby altering the viewer’s traditional passive role. Through this, artists directly confront and question the objectifying practices that have turned their bodies into commodities, especially within the art sphere (Schneider, 1997). Some artists leverage this metaphorical representation in their work to enlighten audiences about the realities of sex work, while others use the imagery associated with prostitution to challenge the deep-seated consumerist mentality that is fundamental to formalist art appreciation (Davies, 2012). Dye’s work is particularly focused on the interaction with the audience, inviting engagement to prevent a detached and voyeuristic experience. Such works interrogate and upend conventional norms regarding gender roles in art, questioning the usual portrayal of the artist as male and the subject as female, and instead merging these roles to create new interpretations and significance for the female body in art (Bell, 1994) In her performances and the accompanying images, she deliberately maintains having her back to the audience, rarely showing her face during the acts and never in recorded still images, maintaining a dynamic reminiscent of an anonymous chat room where she is visible to the audience, but cannot see them (Dye, 2019).

CHAPTER FOUR: MUSE

Sophia Giovannitti, a sex worker, and artist has said, “sex and art, we are told, are sacred, two spheres that ought to be kept separate from the ravages of the marketplace. Yet, both props up lucrative industries built on the commodification of creativity and desire, authenticity and intimacy” (2023). The act of commercially selling art has often been compared to the notion of selling oneself, with both domains expecting you to contort yourself for other’s needs. Furthermore, the term “job” in both fields is frequently diminished by societal expectations, with sex work often not recognised as legitimate employment, leading to its omission from resumes, while artists are questioned on how they supplement their income – sometimes with sex work, que the gasp!

Hinting at brothels in art can mean one thing, but it’s a completely different scenario when a sex worker, or any woman for that matter, tries to take the place of an artist in a museum – especially if she’s not shy about expressing her sexuality, a trait often praised as a sign of strength and virility in men. Such a move puts the usual divide between art and pornography into stark contrast. When a figure like the sex worker rejects the need for male approval and steps out to define herself in the art space, she’s not just blurring the lines between mainstream and marginal art but also exposing how gender plays into the divide. This act confronts the traditional view that sees bold female sexuality as something negative. Despite society’s tendency to downplay female sexuality, such actions contradict the notion of male ‘strength’ often associated with artists (Schneider, 1997). When the sex workers body is used as the central theme of art it highlights their sexuality as a creative power.

A work that uses this sexuality as creative power whilst venturing even more unmistakably into the sphere of sex work within the confines of a gallery setting is Gloria Heilman-C’s Sex Acts (1996). In this work, live pornographic sex acts were performed on a bed occupied by porn stars whilst thousands of attendees passed by and watched at the Jack Tilton gallery in New York.

Among the myriad of performances that have graced gallery spaces, why is it that sexual expressions are the last to remain so controversial, particularly given that sexuality is a universal aspect of human experience. Sex is one of the most profound, natural, powerful, emotional and intense experiences we have as humans, so it’s odd that we discourage and gatekeep it from art – considering that art as another form of expression that produces same these feelings. With a more open mind, one would understand that art is the perfect place to express the experience of sexuality we have as humans, including all the variant forms of emotions and distinctions it comes with. Although body art holds the power to disrupt conventional perspectives, it also risks being ensnared by the very themes of prostitution or pornography it critiques (Davies, 2012) Nevertheless, by leveraging audience engagement, drawing parallels between the economics regarding art and sex work, considerating the depiction of sex workers, and confronting prevailing narratives, artists can dissect the commodification of women’s bodies in both the realms of art and the adult entertainment industry

While Sex Acts (1996) boldly celebrates sexual openness, it arguably overlooks chances to offer a nuanced critique or delve deeper into art historical traditions. In regard to ‘representational content’ and ‘artistic quality’ it is clear that signals for erotic art over pornography are within Sex Acts (1996). In using adult performers to enact sex acts for money, Heilman-C adopts a rather straightforward interpretation of Charles Baudelaire’s (1821-67) metaphor, “What is art? Prostitution” (1887) only set in a new context of a contemporary backdrop. The work draws a parallel between the literal act of prostitution and the commodification of art objects as a commentary on the art market’s perceived moral elevation. Much like Dye’s work, this performance sparked significant debates on pornography within the art gallery by bringing an act typically reserved for private spaces into the public eye, however Heilman-C’s encouragement of spectators to not only watch but engage clearly collapses the line between the two spheres all the more. Compellingly, the event attracted an extraordinarily large audience, suggesting a public intrigue with the intersection of art and eroticism. Dr Susan Block’s, editorial stated about the debut,

“…to think that on the other side of town, New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani was closing down peep shows, and here we were performing sex acts you couldn’t even see in the most explicit joints in Times Square! Maybe if the stripper called themselves “artists,” they wouldn’t be shut down.” (Block, 1996).

This observation emphasises the importance of context in determining what is deemed acceptable in culture. Block wasn’t to know that she was also onto something by suggesting sex workers refer to themselves as artists; as mentioned in chapter two, with the development of restrictions for sex work online, workers started to do exactly that.

By presenting the commodified form of the sex worker, Heilman-C critiques the consumerist gaze inherent in art institutions, disrupting lofty modernist concepts of purity and transcendence (Bryan-Wilson, 2012). Both artists and sex workers navigate capitalism by tapping into and commodifying desire. In doing so, they question the dichotomy of societal respect for different forms of prostitution, where one is esteemed and the other disparaged. Yet, the exhibition might have limited itself by not exploring beyond these initial provocations, potentially missing an opportunity to address broader conversations or the deeper complexities surrounding the identity of sex workers, thereby risking a retreat into the cliché. Nevertheless, by presenting the intentional fetishization and commercialisation of their bodies within the context of art, the performers disrupted the traditional boundaries that still separate esteemed and commonplace spaces and they

revealed how the art world itself contributes to an elitist narrative that validates cultural values through the objectification of women (McCormack, 2021). These actions exposed that art is not above the commercial tendencies of our society but is part of them, reinforcing a culture of commodified consumption. Therefore, such art pieces confront the ways in which bodies are visualised and traded, spotlighting the shared economic challenges faced equally by artists and sex workers, an fact in which both are directly embodied through the physical form, inscribed with personal identity.

Unfortunately, bringing up prostitution in art is often seen either as a naïve grab for attention or as skirting the edges of acceptability (Giovannitti, 2023), leading to criticism from the art establishment that hesitates to engage with such profound topics as, sex, sexuality, capital and the commodification within the art market. However, Heilman-C’s conscious choice to unveil and challenge long-standing patriarchal narratives that policed not only female sexuality, but all sex workers sexuality still stands as an important work in the movement to change longstanding stigmas towards pornographic material within the art world.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, this dissertation takes a close look at how sex workers are portrayed in contemporary art, spotlighting the complex issues that bridge both the realms of the art and sex industries. By placing sex workers within the artistic context, artists can highlight the duality that exists between the individual and the objective form, bringing forth a unique, important, and dynamic subject matter. As seen, their engagement in art often results in the immediate categorisation of pornography before any consideration in its legitimacy as art. However, I believe this remains a complex debate. Nonetheless, their recent engagement as artists, not just figures in artwork, has allowed them to become the storytellers in possession of their own powerful narratives.

Artists who dare to engage with the theme of sex work in their art confront and challenge the established roles of subject, object, and voyeur, while navigating the complex perceived binaries of gender and sexuality. These provocative works, which some may deem obscene, not only spark critical debates about the state and integrity of contemporary art but also cast a revealing light on the very issues within it. The creation of these works by female artists has historically invited negative responses not only from broader society but from the art world too, influenced by the subconsciously internalised view that there is still “things women may not do” that men can within the art world (Schneider, 1997). Rebecca Schneider (b.1959) clearly expressed this sentiment “nudity was not the problem. Sexual display was not the problem. The agency of the body displayed, the author(ity) of the agent – that was the problem with women’s work” (1997).

Despite the potential criticism, such works effectively talk on art’s history and challenge the audience, offering a vital, more humanised perspective of the sex worker as an individual. These artists reveal that even in the art world, sex is ascribed market value, and through their work they delve into themes of regulation, censorship, and systemic inequalities. Alongside this, they also affirm the agency and empowerment of sex workers themselves by treating them as ordinary persons. This is valuable as art, essentially having the profound capacity to challenge societal norms and address stigmatised subjects, including the perceptions of sex work. It can foster empathy and a more inclusive dialogue about the rights and social standing of sex workers, drawing parallels between the eroticism often explored in fine art and the nature of sex work, thereby dispelling misconceptions, and confronting existing stigmas.

The representation of sex workers in art challenges the consumer-focused views that dominate the art world, calling into question established modernist values that prioritise purity and transcendence above materialism. This is due to the usual condemnation pornographic imagery receives on the basis that its content represents women’s bodies as sexual objects for men. Ongoing debates about pornographic content, highlight the changing nature of social norms and the evolving definitions of what even constitutes pornography – nobody gasps at ankles anymore. These conversations underscore the importance of context and consumption in classifying images as pornographic, signalling a broader call for nuanced understanding of the intersection between art, sexuality and societal standards.

All images, to some degree, objectify; therefore, to oppose pornography solely on these grounds is misguided. A more effective approach is to examine how pornographic representations contribute to reinforcing distinctions between socially acceptable and illicit forms of sexuality. The above artists encourage the transcendence of moral

condemnation by instead exploring representations of female sexuality that they desire in our visual culture.

In conclusion, while this dissertation has addressed several facets of the sex workers’ image within contemporary art, I acknowledge that there is still a vast scope of factors yet to be explored, including the negative portrayals of sex workers and the historical breadth of their presence within art. These remain fertile grounds for future inquiry due to the opportunities such content provides in understanding and reshaping the narrative of sex work, in and out of art. Although it’s a bumpy road, we should carry on striving for a representation of humankind that encapsulates the full spectrum of human experience.

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GLOSSARY

This glossary contains dictionary definitions, together with personal thoughts relating to the terms. Etymology is constantly developing particularly in relation to this subject, and with the lack of academic discussions in the area, such terms will continue to evolve and develop over the coming years.

Escorting: A type of sex work that typically involves a sex worker offering companionship by offering their time and company to a client, most often for a social or recreational event, and sometimes including sexual services. In the realm of art, representations of escorting can explore themes of intimacy, social dynamics, and the complexities of personal and transactional relationships.

Female Gaze: A concept in art and media that represents women from a female perspective, emphasising their autonomy and experiences. It counters the traditional “male gaze” by portraying women as active subjects rather than passive objects, challenging stereotypes and offering more authentic depictions of women’s lives and sexuality.

Fetish: In a broad sense, a fetish refers to an intense fascination or desire for a specific object, body part, or activity, often of a sexual nature. In art and cultural studies, the concept of fetishism can be explored for its psychological and sociological implications, particularly in how it relates to human sexuality, desire, and the complex nature of eroticism.

Male Gaze: A term originating in film theory and feminist criticism, describing how visual arts and literature depict the world and women from a masculine point of view, presenting women as objects of male pleasure. The concept highlights the imbalance of power in gender representation and often sexualized portrayal of women in media and art.

Porn star: An individual who performs in pornographic films or shows, often characterised by explicit sexual content. In the context of art and cultural studies, the role of the porn star can be explored in terms of representation, the gaze, the politics of the body and the commodification of sexual imagery. Their portrayal in various media can raise questions about consent, agency, societal attitudes towards sex work, and the impact of pornography on culture and individual perception.

Prostitution: The practice of engaging in sexual activity with someone in exchange for payment. It is one of the oldest professions and varies widely in its legal status and social acceptance across different cultures and legal systems. In the context of art, depictions of prostitution can serve to examine themes of power, societal marginalisation, gender dynamics, and economic necessity. Artistic representations often provoke discussions about morality, exploitation and the human condition.

Sex Work: The provision of sexual services in exchange for money or goods. This term encompasses a wide range of activities including, pornography, prostitution, stripping, webcamming and escorting.

Stripping/lap dancing: These activities involve a performer engaging in erotic dance and undressing, often in a club or private setting. In the context of sex work, stripping and lap dancing are forms of erotic labour where the performer’s body and sexual appeal are central to the service provided. These practices raise common questions in regard to sex work but also question boundaries between performer and audience due to the no touching rules.

Web-camming: A form of digital sex work where individuals or groups perform erotic acts or engage in sexual communication over a webcam for clients live online, in exchange for money or gifts. This practice allows for a level of anonymity and can be done from private spaces. In art, representations of webcamming can explore themes of technology, intimacy, and the changing

landscape of sex work in the digital age. It also raises questions of voyeurism, consent, and the digital persona in contemporary society.

Wet and Messy (WAM): A form of sexual fetishism where individuals derive erotic pleasure from the sensation of physical substances, often wet or messy, against their skin or somebody else’s.