Creative Eros: The generative power of sexuality in art

Denver’s Coutrney Throndson has spent her creative life trying to find the ultimate beauty and arousal through nude figure paintings, while mostly steering clear of the controversy of Mapplethorpe and other sexual artists. “There’s a line between the artistic and the pornographic – but it’s a fuzzy line,” Throndson says. “I think the difference with my work is an aesthetic experience, whereas pornography is just a tool. It alienates my audience if I’m too direct with sex, because it forces them to think and fantasize the way that I want them too. I just want to prompt them.”

Coming from a family of painters, Throndson’s original intent was to break the mold, studying metalsmithing in college – though she quickly found a hidden muse that was prepared to sneak out no matter what materials she worked with. “Even my metal work had a very sensual feel about it,” Throndson recalled. “It was very curvalicious; lots of vaginal imagery.”

It was the process of creativity that not only brought out Throndson’s artistic gifts, but also taught her a thing or two about herself. “I feel like my art helped me discover my sexuality,” she said. “When I was younger I was a practicing heterosexual, and as I got more mature as an artist I noticed that my work gravitated toward female forms. It was very unconscious. It caused me to rethink my sexuality – and I followed through with that. It outed me to myself.”

Throndson explained that what art did for her, she wants to do for others – not necessarily turn them into lesbians, but to arouse them in a manner that brings out buried fantasies.

“Sexuality is primitive and carnal,” Throndson said, “and yet it’s our common thread. It’s too animalistic for society, and that’s why it’s taboo. But that’s also why it’s attractive.”

While the creative process has helped people like Throndson discover the organic, uplifting side of life, it can also be a tool for coping with life’s darker moments. When Anthony Norris was informed he had been infected with HIV, it was sandwiched between a pair of events that should have been the highlight of his year: his birthday, and not only meeting his creative idol, surreal photography artist Sandy Skoglund, but hustling her into seeing his work and giving him feedback.

“And then Saturday I was told I was HIV positive,” he says, his enthusiasm waning once the story turns its corner.

Like when Norris expressed his sexuality to himself and others through art at Syracuse – a process he describes as “four years of therapy” – he dealt with the news of his illness using same tools that have always been there for him. His work.

While he cannot pinpoint the exact moment and partner that infected him, Norris is certain it occurred during his time as a regular patron of online dating. “I’ve had my share – as many people have.” He speaks on the issue not with any shame or self-loathing, but with a neutrality that allows him to confront and comment on it through his art, both as healing for himself and a warning to others. The currently untitled photography piece, will present an entire room wallpapered with the rear design of poker cards, contrasting an isolated man sitting before a computer. “It’s about the risk, the gamble of online dating. It’s probably the most direct piece I’ve ever done.”

Norris both found life and confronted its challenges through art, just as Throndson discovered her own engine of sexual energy through her paintings – as well the knowledge of where to place that energy. Whether it’s Da Vinci and Michelangelo expressing homoeroticism through religious paintings, or Robert Mapplethorpe forcing the public to define their fears, art has always been the canal of human expression for all things wonderful and horrible, with sex being the river that flows through it.

Many artists have sought to live outside mainstream society to discover their inner selves, moving to cities or culturally evolved communities to be able to live day-to-day in a world of uncensored expression. In her book, Just Kids, Patti Smith describes the years she spent as companion to gay photographer Robert Mapplethorpe in 1970s New York. The best seller depicts a romantically troubled life of poverty, heartbreak and inspiration, Smith and Mapplethorpe casually drifting around the now iconic pre-punk scene of Manhattan.

Smith recalls one night when she and Mapplethorpe were allowed rare access to the art vaults of the Met, touching private nude photos that Alfred Stieglitz had taken of Georgia O’Keeffe. “As Robert concentrated on the technical aspects, I focused on Georgia O’Keeffe as she related to Stieglitz, without artifice,” Smith writes. “Robert was concerned with how to make the photograph, and I with how to be the photograph.”