Nakedness
Vs Nudity
Photographed by Kaitlyn Krueger & Taylor Priola
Written by Kaitlyn Krueger
Designed by Gwenyth Bechtel
A conversation about body-image, perception, and society. If these topics are triggering for you, please continue with caution. Here’s a reminder to be kind to yourself and try to be open minded when listening to others experiences.
How often do you think about what it means to see? To see others, to be seen? Some of us can’t stop thinking about it, to the point of compulsion. We examine ourselves in every reflection; we watch others’ gazes, where it grazes over us and where it sticks. If you were socialized as a woman, this compulsion to monitor how you’re seen only increases.
If you’ve ever taken an art history class, you might be familiar with the book Ways of Seeing by John Berger. Written as a series of essays in 1972, Berger argues that throughout history, the way we see art is manipulated by those with power and privilege to maintain their social dominance. 50 years later, these essays remain as pertinent as ever for the tools Berger and his co-writers impart upon the reader are still useful for interpreting art in the modern day.
The third essay is perhaps the most famous of those in Ways of Seeing. In this essay, Berger argues that there is a distinct difference between nakedness and nudity, as defined on page 54, “To be naked is to be oneself. To be nude is to be seen naked by others and yet not recognized for oneself. A naked body must be seen as an object to become a nude. (The sight of it as an object stimulates the use of it as an object.) Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display.” In his definition of nakedness and nudity, Berger argues that women are often condemned never to be naked and always nude, both in art and in society at large.
In these conditions, women are always in a state of objectification, even internally. As he states on page 47, “Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. This determines not only most relations between men and women but also the relation of women to themselves.”
Some people have had the opportunity to experience both sides of that dichotomy, though to some, like Viviane O’Donnell, “I wasn’t socialized male so much as I was forced into a life that only served to make me despise myself. However, there are some leftover thought processes from that time. Like, my chest is just my chest.” Viviane is a self-portrait photographer whose primary body of work, “Flowers for My New Ass,” follows her transition and the complicated but joyful experience that is for her.
Viviane describes her relationship with being perceived as naked or nude, as fraught. For her, nakedness is a natural state, “when I am naked, I simply am.” Whereas to her, nudity feels to be welcoming others’ perceptions and gaze, whether or not she really wanted that gaze. She details the difficulty of presenting self-portraiture that is often involving nudity as naked, stating “Ultimately, my own efforts for nakedness are somewhat meaningless the moment I send the work out into the world.”
When trying to communicate nakedness or nudity with photography, Viviane and I agree that the line is really quite blurred, especially when your body is always being sexualized. To try and communicate nakedness, she posed in a way that you might not think is posed, just a woman sitting on her couch in her living room. She is naked, like we sometimes are when we exist in our own spaces. To try and communicate nudity, she focused on accentuating angles, drawing attention to the curves of her body. Communicating nudity is a skill Viviane is still working on becoming more comfortable with, the act of portraying her own body as sexual intentionally, as it is so often declared sexual without her intent.
The death of intent in art is no less apparent than in the world of the algorithm. “Unseen” is a constantly evolving online exhibit by British photographer Rankin. This gallery collects submissions from photographers who have had their work censored and removed on various platforms, displaying it in its fullest capacity while also describing the conditions of its censorship. To the shock of no one, the vast majority of that art centers around the female body.
The algorithm has now decided that this censorship applies to Viviane as well. “Since last March, I’ve been running into issues with posting my work, especially when I am shirtless. … Recently my online store was taken down for selling nudity, and it just blows me away that this is something that absolutely wouldn’t have happened a year ago.”
Sadly, this isn’t really a surprise. “I think the fetishization of trans people and trans bodies is so common that it is almost inevitable it (her work) will end up being viewed as nudity,” she explained. “There’s been so many times that a guy will send me a horny dm right after liking all my nude work. It feels inescapable … for many, the trans body is an explicitly sexual one.”
This objectification is rampant across all femme-presenting populations. Taylor Priola, photographer on this article, described years of objectification and sexual harassment. “I got yelled at repeatedly on the Blue Line by a man saying, “I want to rape you” over and over despite the fact that it was a little over 20 degrees and my entire body was fully covered; My body just didn’t feel like mine, I was always on display for somebody else,” she explained.
As a photographer, Taylor views bodies as simply that, bodies. It took time, but through photographing others, herself, she began to feel more thankful for her body, stating she realized “How thankful I am to be living inside my own homemade vessel that I get to tattoo, dye, and hold every night as I fall asleep. I am lucky to have something so sacred and precious that I get to call my own and that follows me everywhere. … My body is my home and I love feeling at home in it.”
The constant surveillance of our bodies from others, and ourselves, will wear you down. It is important that everyone, no matter your gender, begin to try and heal from the expectations placed on our bodies. There isn’t any one way to do that, no easy answer I can offer. For Maika Shibata, healing meant creating art with herself and finding a community of people oriented around supporting body positivity.
Maika’s relationship with her body has been tumultuous, in part she explained, because of her hypothyroidism. She described being self-conscious for years, “I felt I looked boyish, I was very scrawny, as well. And so I mean, people often mistook me as my younger sister.” At age 17 she started to go through puberty and develop more fat and muscle, but it still took years of healing to love her body.
Finding a community of people online that were actively participating in body positivity culture was a big part of that healing. Through these communities, Maika described learning the way she now tries to approach being kinder to herself. “Anytime I look at myself, I would just think - look at myself as if I were a stranger. Like I’m seeing myself for the first time. And like what an honor that would be! What a pleasure,” she said. “And it, I don’t know, it not only changes the way you look at your body, but the way you feel and look at your personality as well.”
Protecting her body from the perception of others is also a part of that healing. Maika described nakedness feeling like, “embarrassment, fear, humiliation, but … it’s like a fact of being human,” whereas to her, in nudity, she felt like she had more power. “I think it’s not sexualized, but it can be. I think it’s a lot more artistic, and less natural.” Taylor and Maika’s choices in posing reflect this perspective. In both cases, she’s lounging, but in her nakedness she is vulnerable, and in her nudity, she is on display.
Still, there is power to be found in nudity, isn’t there? Nudity in both the literal and metaphorical sense, as opposed to nakedness. Choosing to be on display, to walk through the world and turn your own vulnerability into an asset - there is power to that. Now, to be clear, in Berger’s reading of the world at large, women are assigned nudity without any say over the matter. A patriarchal system assigns objectification to women or femme presenting people whether or not they like it. That being said, you may very well find power in your presentation and embrace being on display.
Finding power in pushing boundaries and being on display is Wil Whitehurst’s forte. Although he has always felt comfortable presenting in a feminine way, he’s only begun to publicly present this way in the past year or so. “Once I got to Chicago, I started challenging myself in little but meaningful ways. Whether it was going out in a skirt & fishnets or being coated in glitter, I’d go on the train surrounded by strangers and keep my head held high,” he explained. “It liberated me. Honestly no one really cared and it made me happy. The occasional off-handed comments or looks are nothing compared to the joy it gives me to be myself. I turned my vulnerability into my confidence.”
Taylor described the process of shooting with Wil to be very guided by his own ideas and poses. “I wanted him to feel comfortable and showcase himself how he wanted to be viewed, especially for the nudity photos. But for nakedness, I showcased him somewhat “off guard” in efforts to encapsulate that rawness.” She explains, “The main contrast between the images being nude and naked, is that in the nude photos, I had my model showcase his body and put himself on display but in the naked photo, you notice something that looks more natural and not staged.”
This aligns with Wil’s confidence in his own body and desire to make the choice to present himself however he chooses. He stated, “I’d say nudity is more of a choice; more intentional, more deliberate, and a vehicle for expressing yourself. Nakedness, to me, is more like being bare, exposed or feeling like there’s something to hide.”
Wil has not always been so confident with his body or the way he presents himself, but he finds that it’s important to love those younger iterations of himself that didn’t feel the way he does now. “My relationship with my body has fluctuated my entire life. I look back at different stages of my life and feel a type of way, but try to be gentle and show myself love and compassion.”
Showing our younger selves some sense of grace is important, especially when we regard our bodies, our gender presentation, our sexualities - both as they were and how they are now. We’re always changing. Wil has always been comfortable with feminine presentation, activities, and felt more at peace with women - but he was also pressured to be more masculine from a young age. “Being at an all boys school eventually stripped me of my femininity. I joined football and ditched that side of myself and tried my best to blend in with the crowd. I was living a lie and didn’t know who I had become.” It is easy to look back at our younger selves with anger and pity, to wonder why we let ourselves become the people we were, especially if you have any kind of marginalized identity.
We should all hold some grace for ourselves, in every iteration. May we all find people who support and protect us from a world often casually cruel. People who affirm your personhood, and your choices. People who love us, provide space for us to heal, and allow us to be seen as naked. Which is to say, simply ourselves.
