Skip to main content

Ban this filth!

Saw this story on Reuters this morning, and found it both depressing and amusing. It concerns the banning of the famous Cranach painting of Venus from a poster promoting an upcoming Royal Academy exhibition. It has been determined that the image is too risqué for the sensitivities of London's commuters.

Aesthetically, I've never been a particular fan of Cranach's nudes (they all look like they are short of a good feed, to be honest with you), but what nonsense! How many school kids would visit the top art galleries of the world? Should we censor every Ruebens and Tintoretto because it might damage one of the sensitive dears? Or are they catering to the gender or religious sensibilities of whomever? Surely the 500 year old work of a master is no more offensive than some of the pseudo-paedophilic titillations of the ilk of Calvin Klein or some other underpants/perfume/home loan ad?

It appears that the Royal Academy had the choice of placing black strips over Venus's naughty bits, but is more likely to use a cropped version.


I have chosen to display the offending painting below, so if you are weak of stomach or high of principle, please look away.



Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.
3 comments
Read more

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
5 comments
Read more

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut
10 comments
Read more