Kienholz: the Hoerengracht
National Gallery, London
Amsterdam’s red light district – the Hoerengracht – may not seem to be the most appropriate subject for an exhibition in the stately rooms of the National Gallery, but the American artists Edward Kienholz and Nancy Reddin Kienholz have recreated the narrow, tawdry streets and claustrophobic atmosphere of this notorious area. Yet, as the gallery is keen to make clear, the artist’s concern with the sex trade is, in fact, part of a continuing interest by artists with prostitution and the rituals of the “oldest profession”.
This is made clear in a “taster” for the exhibition of three subtle and understated Dutch 17th century paintings. Typical is Pieter de Hooch’s politely named A Musical Party in the Courtyard, which appears to be an amicable social gathering. However, closer inspection reveals this to be a far from polite, innocent image, but one in which a deal is being struck between a woman in a red dress – a sure indicator of “wantonness” – and a man holding an oyster shell, a conventional symbol for sexual allure. She stirs her wine with a fork, in a further suggestive reference to intercourse.
The Hoerengracht, translated as “The Whore’s Canal”, has no such niceties, but is up front in depicting the grimy and littered streets of the area, reflecting as it does the open display of women willing to sell their bodies. It was produced by Ed and Nancy Kienholz, a husband and wife team in the 1980s, who talked to the women, persuading them to allow themselves to be photographed. Not surprisingly, the women were reluctant to do so until offered payment. These images were used as a basis for the crudely modelled, life-sized figures, which combine realism with a surreal-like intensity.
The sombre, oppressive installation, mostly lit by glowing red light, mixes naturalism and exaggeration to capture the grubby, sleazy streets and the pervading gloom in which women – now known as sex workers – sit or stand in doorways or behind open windows dressed in their underclothes and little else. Their bored, indifferent looks are neither inviting nor seductive.
Most alarming is that their faces are framed in a box fashioned from a cut down biscuit tin, the front of which is open indicating a separation of feelings from the body. The crude, mask-like device carries more than a hint of slavery and control, a convention the women seem to accept. In the Kienholz’ work, the harshly lit mannequins evoke a theatre of grim reality, an impression reinforced by the puppet-like quality of the figures.
With the theme of love or, more accurately, sex for sale, the startling installation turns visitors, like those wandering the red-lit streets, into voyeurs, ogling the “goods” as spectators rather than punters, able only to peer through windows and doors, but not allowed to enter.
In addressing the theme of heterosexual prostitution head on, the Hoerengracht has a sensational element while raising issues such as social crime, exploitation, human desire and morality. Made some 30 years ago, the rituals may have changed, but the business remains, despite the authorities’ attempts to change it.
Cleverly, the Hoerengracht raises questions such as the extent to which these are women in control or are the victims of a system that commodifies and exploits, leaving viewers to make up their own mind. While giving the term “window shopping” a new slant, the Hoerengracht is an intriguing blend of the real world and the art gallery space that is both thoughtful and disturbing.
Emmanuel Cooper
The Hoerengracht continues until February 21 2010, accompanied by a catalogue that gives useful context and background
