On the Genesis of Perving: ad quod respondit Servetus — THREE

[Let’s have this image here again since I love it so much. Mmm, left side of the mouth. Mmmmm, slightly more muscular left side of his jaw. Mmmm, smile. Mmmmm, brown-haired Armitage. Mmm, apparent sparkle in his eyes. Serious objectification. Richard Armitage, I have no idea what you were thinking or feeling when this picture of you was taken, but looking at you in it makes me so happy.]

PART ONE IS HERE. On my attempt to disable the argument about the acceptability of ogling based on human evolution, some readers may find this book interesting — note that a few years earlier, the same author made a forceful case for disabling the argument from culture that I made in part one, so I am not presenting this as additional evidence for my case. Part one went on to make the case that vast majority of images of Richard Armitage that are available to fans objectify Armitage for the purpose of marketing. PART TWO IS HERE; its point was to use a historical example to make the case that art, no matter how beautiful, is not free from objectification, so that even if images of Armitage, a living person, can be equated with beautiful art, this comparison does not nullify the objectifications going on in either art or photos of Armitage.

In other words, I do think that what we do, the artistic metaphor notwithstanding, definitely qualities as objectification.

The arguments raised in Judi’s original argument that remain for me to address below:

• that images only objectify sexually when their purpose is solely or primarily to arouse lust; that images made to appreciate or celebrate beauty are not troubling as objectifications
• that Richard Armitage’s decision to appear nude or near nude in projects in which he has been involved means that he has exercised agency and is thus not a victim of objectification, even if it is occurring; had he not been willing to experience this outcome, he could / would / should have not disrobed; even if we are objectifying him, his acquiescence to the original depictions means that he acquiesces to objectifications of himself.

[OK, it turns out that although this was supposed to be the last post on this topic, I only got around to the second argument. But tomorrow’s going to be a busy day and I didn’t want to go today without posting. I guess there’ll be a fourth in this series after all. Bear with me.]

Finally, since I’ve gotten some explicit and implicit feedback on this issue that indicates that people understand me to be indicting them for their objectifications or potential objectifications of Richard Armitage, because I’m arguing against Judy, I feel compelled to repeat the following statement, which appeared at the beginning of part one:

I am myself a major objectifier (sexual and analytical) of Richard Armitage, so hopefully nothing I write in this post will make anyone think that I’m pointing fingers at anyone beyond myself. I’ve copped to my fears about objectifying Richard Armitage and the reasons for them, but everything about this blog has turned out to be a journey and my feelings on this topic certainly will go on that journey, as well. Also, I’m not criticizing you if you agree with Judi, or prefer a simpler discussion of these things. Nor do I think less of anyone who just looks at pictures of Richard Armitage and thinks, “beautiful!” “sexy!” “I want him!” or something salacious, and nothing beyond that. I think those things, too. Short of engaging in actual endangerment — and looking at a picture and admiring it, no matter what you think in response, does not directly harm Richard Armitage in any practical way — what you do and think as a fan is your affair.

If this is how you feel, that’s great! Nothing in what I say below seeks to make anyone feel guilty or move them to think or behave any differently than they are. I write here about things that move me to think about them, about problems that concern me — so what I say I am saying only about myself and my observations. It may or may not be of significance to you, but if it holds my attention, I’m going to write about it. I can’t control what you think about that, of course, but if you think that the simple (re-)opening or continuation of the discussion of sexual objectification in the case of Richard Armitage somehow constitutes an indictment, nothing I will ever say on this topic will make you happy. I will say honestly that I think that a clearer discussion of it would defuse some of the apparent anxiety and/or outrage around this issue much better than criticism of the attitudes of other fans. But above all, I say, as I’ve been trying to articulate for months: Let each woman question and follow her own conscience.

***

A potential objectification created for us by the cameraman, which I choose to capture for myself. Lucas North (Richard Armitage) searches a hotel room in Spooks 9.2. My cap, as the one I was aware of on Richard Armitage Central seems to have been removed.

Let’s take the second question first: does Mr. Armitage’s choice to appear in images that have the potential to titillate negate his meaningful capacity to either decry or consider himself harmed by the potential negative consequences of any objectification that occurs as a result?

I’m suspicious of the argument from agency, or rather, I suspect that in the form presented, it’s framed in terms too stark to fit the average person’s experience of work. If I wanted to go Marxist, I’d note that what Richard Armitage does when he works replicates the classic situation of labor’s alienation from the means of production, but I don’t need all the baggage. As one experienced in the practice of doing something similar, I can say it this way: You sign a contract in which you exchange your labor for pay; you get some things, you lose others. You hope that what you’re getting (an artistic project you want to participate in; a teaching job with research responsibilities) is worth more than what you give up (the right to go skiing at any time; the time you otherwise would have spent navel-gazing; complete artistic or professional control over your work and the use of it). You try to control what you can and hope you’ve negotiated for enough pay and that any associated job security won’t be too constricting. The exchange relationship is not mitigated, at least in my opinion, by the fact that some things we contract to do are professional or artistic as opposed to routine or repetitive, or that we like some things we might contract to do (acting; teaching) better than others (publicity; grading). In this sense, acting or professoring are no different from fast food sales — one thing of value is exchanged for another.

On this view, although Armitage is an actor, the assumption that if he takes a role, he acts (in both senses of the word) in accordance with his own will, but that seems slightly too simple to me, or rather, the question of what it is that Armitage wants would have to be examined more closely. No one works in a vacuum; any job done with other people requires a certain sacrifice of individual agency to be completed, but an actor has no choice but to work with others; his profession can’t be practiced alone. He can deliver a great performance and have it edited to shreds, for instance, but one assumes he doesn’t consent to the latter process. Time also plays a role, and so it seems specious to argue that every depiction an actor creates on screen is something that he would have consented to had he been asked in advance. Not only because of contracts, but also because of changing emotions, we might suspect that Mr. Armitage’s will to take the part of Lucas North as it was sold to him in 2007 might have had a different quality than his desire to have his posterior exposed in series 8, or to be forced to destroy that character construction as he was in series 9, before he was written out of the show. Additionally, the whole range of potential contracts is never available to someone who contracts for work, and so people make choices among only the options available to them, and not among an infinite array of possibilities. Richard Armitage might prefer starring in a contemporary play in the West End to Spooks, but he might also prefer Spooks to EastEnders. It seems to me that the only full agency against objectification that Armitage maintains in this context is to say “no” to a job completely. He can will not to take the risk of being objectified if he will accept the negative consequence (lack of exposure; lack of pay) of not taking a role. His statements about his conclusion that acting is the only appropriate career for him tend to balance his desire to act with his incapacity to do other things; so, presumably, he also makes a cost/benefit analysis when he takes a role. He could also refuse to have publicity photos taken, but refusing to promote productions in which he’s involved might also make it difficult to get contracts. This may be the closest he comes to having an agency with regard to his objectification in various roles, but it is a rather weak kind of agency. It says only, “Given certain structural necessities, I am willing to accept certain risks.” Admittedly, objectification is a common risk of becoming a famous actor, so he shouldn’t be surprised by it when it happens. But I don’t think that’s quite the same as saying that he consents to it because of his agency.

Finally, the argument from agency makes two problematic assumptions: the capacity to control a contract in the face of custom, and the ability to control every possible consequence of the contract. In creative careers, while contracts foresee a certain amount of what might happen, they don’t ultimately foresee everything. A contract could never conceivably prevent every possible form of objectification. Film contracts typically specify every form of nudity allowed (or when a double must be provided), but some things are presumably not negotiable. We live in the West where the male torso is a permitted and unremarkable locus of nudity, so it seems to strain credibility, for instance, that Armitage would have much luck — assuming he wanted to — in negotiating a contract in which he could not occasionally be required to remove his shirt. Secondly, we have the issue of controlling interpretation. Armitage may able to control which parts of his body appear nude on screen, but he has absolutely no control over how people interpret those appearances. In other words, objectification inheres not simply in the images that are made, but also in the interpretive act of the viewer. Taking agency to consent to any particular depiction of his body on screen cannot possibly be construed to be the equivalent of consenting to every possible interpretive act that a viewer could use that depiction for. The rear nudity in Spooks 8.4 has been put to very different use in fanvids than it was in the plot of the episode. In that second sense of objectification, Richard Armitage has little to no agency, except, again, in the sense of the nuclear option: he can will not to take a role.

OK, I’m stopping there for tonight because the next chunk — objectification and the beauty of image — is a lot longer and not done yet. Thanks for your patience. Don’t worry; it won’t be heavy all week. I continue to strive to provide variety here.

~ by Servetus on October 17, 2011.