Inaugurating Deitch’s return to SoHo, Head proved to be little more than sexual provocation.
It would be disingenuous of me not to admit that I was initially attracted to Eddie Peake's work because I was attracted to men, and men—naked, muscled, and sometimes aroused—feature prominently in everything Peake does, whether it's painting, performance, or the landing image on his homepage (which currently is a close-up of his big old boner bathed in red light). The fact that he's straight has irked many, some of whom have confronted him and other artists, namely Jordan Wolfson, for exploiting the complexities of lived, queer experience, reducing it to an easy stereotype for personal artistic gain, as if trying to hedge against their own heteronormativity by window dressing it with something "alternative" and "sexy." Moreover, these artists also turn themselves into sex objects (Peake in his photographs, Wolfson in films like Raspberry Poser), directly soliciting the gay male gaze in a weird twist on old-school, painterly machismo. For a lot of queer people, there's all sorts of wrong happening here.[ Read More ]