Writing the Bloody Truth

Inspiration through the artwork of Jenny Saville

(source)

In an interview with The Guardian, British artist Jenny Saville states, “I think I’ve accepted that making things that are beautiful is interesting, whereas before I was not interested in beauty at all. I was anti-beauty, I would say. I like that something reveals itself slowly, it doesn’t have to shout it. That’s shocked me.” 

Saville gained fame in the art world young—by her early twenties, her subversions of the ideal female body, signature due to huge canvases containing bloated, overweight, fleshy bodies—were displayed in galleries across the United Kingdom and the United States. 

Fulcrum

(source)

Even in Saville’s portraiture, it is easy to believe she used to be anti-beauty, looking for other means besides contemporary visually appealing standards to create.

Entry

(source)

Bleach

(source)

Stare

(source)

Similar to visual art, I believe poetry also has this underlying expectation of beauty—observations of nature, the elements, placing people on pedestals, sealing lovers in metaphors. And of course, the macabre in poetry has always existed, same with visual art. Maybe I’m alone in this opinion, I’m no art collector—but I wouldn’t describe Saville’s work as macabre, or even really grotesque, either. Most of her pieces don’t have to with death, but life. Blood, motherhood, nudity, sex, womanhood, facial expressions (last time I checked corpses are somewhat limited in that function). There is an in-between idealized beauty and abject horror/death, and this is where life happens. Often mundane. Occasionally charming, crushing. How do we define ourselves in this in-between? How do we recognize the nuances and grey-areas surrounding us in our art? How do we represent them as truthfully as we can? There are target audiences; there is the ever aesthetically pleasing inclination to represent what could be rather than what is.  

While there is nothing wrong setting out to contort reality, often this is a form of escapism and avoidance. Once again, this isn’t wrong, or counterproductive. But today, I challenge you to write your reality. Saville’s artistry may shock—but there are cultural reasons of what is acceptable and unacceptable provoking this reaction. I invite you to think of this as you write. Don’t set out to write beauty, to write death. You could set out to shock—but I would argue life itself, in all of its bloody truth, is unexpected enough. 

Read more of Alyssa's work on Floodmark.