Join Holly as she searches east Auckland for love and connection.
In which Holly encourages you to draw your own porn (well, kind of).
Not long after he painted the beautiful Athenais in 1908, John William Godward’s star began to fade.
Godward was an anachronism. Though skilled, he arrived in the art world a little too late to become a legend.
The blinding light of modernism was rushing over the horizon, and Godward’s neo-classical style was falling from favour.
His paintings of semi-nude women were sometimes reduced to gentlemen’s parlour art – the Edwardian equivalent of a cheap topless calendar in a modern-day man cave.
In Athenais, a young woman stands in a sheer, ruby-coloured robe, one arm resting on a marble wall.
The other arm hangs by her hip, a black feather fan in her hand.
She gazes slightly off to the side (or, perhaps, into the future – she is a prophetess, after all), but her toes and one pert nipple point directly at the viewer, returning our attention.
Godward’s sexualisation of the subject is blatant, but she’s painted in gorgeous detail.
Fast forward to the early 1990s, when the boys in the row in front of me at school spent their days drawing pictures of boobies.
Smartphones weren’t around then, so unless they were brave enough to steal their dad’s naughty magazines, DIY erotica was their only choice.
They may not have had Godward’s talent (the sketches I saw looked more like baked goods than breasts) but unlike him, they created their art at just the right time.
They, and I, were members of the last generation whose natural curiosity around nudity remained intact, at least for a while.
We now know what a privilege it was to be able to sit with that curiosity.
Not having access to an internet’s worth of illicit content was a blessing. The effects of porn on young brains are well-studied and deeply concerning.
Should they have been paying attention in class, instead of drawing naked women? Of course.
However, I’d argue that the pictures were a victimless act of creation.
Nowadays, nude images are easy to come by, but rarely victimless. Deepfakes are everywhere, making anyone who’s ever had their photo taken a potential victim.
At the tap of a key, AI avatars will flirt aggressively or disrobe and dance seductively.
While this might seem victimless, what effect does it have on our brains… and our humanity?
Reader, I’m not anti-tech, but child exploitation, privacy infringements, warped body image and lowered intimacy skills are all potential dangers of under-regulated AI.
The tech industry’s own regulations are insufficient, and, in some cases, disgraceful.
Meta recently faced a backlash for a leaked policy document that permitted chatbots to “engage a child in conversations that are romantic or sensual”.
As much as the tech-bros try to convince us that they’re all about responsibility, their ability to self-govern cannot be trusted.
Their reputation for going fast and breaking things precedes them.
Sensible, well-evidenced policy is crucial, of course, but we, the public, also have the power to fight AI encroachment in our lives.
I suggest we all start by drawing boobies.
Creativity is great for our grey matter. Unlike AI, it unquestionably fosters, rather than threatens, our humanity… and what better inspiration than our bodies?
They are, after all, the containers of our human experience and excellence.
That’s why, Reader, all bodies are beautiful and worthy of celebration.
They’re the masterpieces that we live, work, love and play in.
Let yourself be inspired! Instead of messing about on ChatGPT, Reader, why not try life drawing?
Or sculpture, or poetry, or painting… whatever form of art tickles your fancy.
You don’t have to be the next Godward – just have a go.
Trust me, your brain will thank you for it.
Email holly@times.co.nz.
Yours in love,
Holly
