Flicking through my all time favourite non-fiction book, Mirage by Boris Vallejo, and considering how I might write a review of it, started me thinking, pondering the meaning of art.
To me, art is anything that stirs the senses and fires the emotions. It can be so many different things to different people. We see art in a Caravaggio oil, a Monet landscape or a Degas ballet girl, in an Andy Warhol poster or in the line of a building, the tactile beauty of a sculpture, even a pile of bricks or a toilet can be art to some people.
Boris Vallejo began his career as a book illustrator for works by authors such as Edgar Rice Burroughs, Alice Chetwynd Lee and Frederick Pohl. He came to erotic fantasy art in the late 70s and early 80s. He is still working today, in collaboration with a young woman artist called Julie Bell (their website www.borisjulie.com has a wide range of paintings and sculptures for sale).
Whilst most people might not consider Vallejo to be fine art, his erotic fantasy paintings fill all my criteria in spades. For his work creates an elemental emotional response in almost everyone who sees it. I call it the “Marmite effect” – you either love it or hate it. Few people are left unmoved.
When I first saw the book Mirage, the power and beauty of the pictures blew me away. Some are like a punch in the gut. Some can almost make you cry with their gentle beauty. Some can make your spirits soar with their emotional vibrancy. And some just make you horny. The common denominator is that they all make you “feel” something - love, desire, envy, jealousy, pleasure, possession, joy, peace, hunger – all the myriad flavours of humanity, the things that make us human.
So what is Mirage? It was originally intended to be a book of nude studies done in pencil – and there are a dozen beautiful black and white sketches at the beginning of the book, accompanying Boris’ own foreword – but it evolved, with the addition of 28 full colour plates of stunning works in oils, and accompanying poetry written by Boris’ wife, Doris Vallejo (I know, Boris and Doris, but it’s true I swear), into an exploration of eroticism in all its forms.
A slim A4 hardback volume, Mirage is more than just a coffee table book or a talking point. It’s a book I go back to time and time again. When I’m happy it reinforces my mood, and when I’m sad it lifts my spirits. When I’m weary with everyday cares, it transports me to another place, a stranger and more vibrant world than the one we live in maybe. This might seem like a tall order just for a book, but like the best of novels, art can take us out of ourselves if we let it.
So, enough of the rhetoric, what are the pictures like? This is quite an old book – first published in 1982 – but for me these works of art don’t date. The fantasy element here is timeless, and as studies of human sexuality and eroticism, they have as much impact as they did 20 years ago, even to our jaded “noughties” palates.
The pencil sketches have a delicacy of touch that is hard to explain. As a collection of drawings of male and female nudes they are impressive, even if you only consider the anatomy. Factor in the wonderful use of light and shade, Vallejo’s unerring knack of conveying the caress of light on skin with a few strokes of a pencil, and you can see these pictures are something special. Then add the wonderful emotional response the pictures bring forth, and the fascinating twist of the fantasy element (a woman with beautiful feathered wings, a proud Amazon-like warrior woman leading a tethered mythical beast, the stunningly beautiful nude woman with hair of writhing snakes, the handsome centaur whose muscular torso melts into equine form.)
One of my favourite of the black and white studies is “Arm”, a sketch of a man’s heavily muscled, vest-clad torso and arm, the hand clenching a strange creature that is a hybrid of snake and dragon. The muscle groups and straining veins are so skilfully rendered that you can almost feel their heat and texture. And the obvious sexual symbolism is stirring in itself.
I also love the Satyr and the Nymph. The entwined bodies of a beautiful girl and handsome half man-half cloven hoofed beast are beautifully drawn, but even more beautiful is the look of serene joy on their faces, cheeks touching, eyes closed, and the loving possession in the way his hands hold her close. It’s completely beautiful.
Even more beautiful is the drawing I call “Slave Girl”. It’s a pencil study of a girl in profile, naked to the waist, one hand holding her long hair atop her head. She is so stunningly beautiful it takes your breath away. The way the light falls on her hair and on the metal slave bangle and collar she wears, and on the pearly luminescence of her skin, is quite remarkable.
The amazing qualities of light are further explored in the colour pictures later in the book. Vallejo revels in the magical properties of light on skin, leather, water, snow, scales and hair. Light becomes almost a living, breathing thing.
Here the fantasy element becomes much more pronounced, with incredible creatures and amazing otherworldly landscapes. Human and inhuman are blended but the overall theme is powerfully erotic.
And echoing each painting are Doris Vallejo’s words in free verse, never quite explaining the picture (because understanding is in the eye of the beholder), but always adding to it.
The colour section opens with one of Vallejo’s most famous paintings, Vampire’s Kiss. A green-skinned, snake bodied creature entwines a naked human woman in arms and enormous leathery wings. A taloned, webbed- fingered hand clasps one of her buttocks, drawing one startlingly bright red drop of blood. One might consider this a study of power, of possession. But seeing the way her arms also enfold him, and the look of complete peace on the creature’s face, the question I suppose is, who possesses whom?
Some of the pictures are more challenging, like “Self Punishment” with its obvious religious overtones and slightly less obvious homoerotic undertones. Here, the nude man appears to be tethered, almost in the style of a crucifixion, to a tree. When one looks closer, one wonders if it is indeed a tree, or some fantasy creature, as branches become arms, roots become legs and bark takes on the appearance of corded muscle. Add a deep red background reminiscent of the fires of hell and one wonders, why “self punishment” and is the look on the captive’s face agony or ecstasy?
Tattoo is one of those pictures I just find incredibly sexy. It’s the figure of a man, facing away from the viewer, the corded muscles of his back and arms sheened with sweat, covered only with the tattered remnants of a chamois vest. His hands are shackled with leather manacles and heavy steel chains. And on one strong arm, a dragon tattoo, one half of which has come to life, gained solid form and attacked, drawing blood with tiny fangs. Here again, the use of light to create texture is mesmerising.
The very best and most intimate picture of the whole collection for me, though, is The Triton and the Mermaid. Here, the mer-couple are suspended in calm blue water, joined in complete bliss, straining toward (or maybe descending from) orgasm, the light from the world above penetrating the water to glint off skin and scales. For me, this painting symbolises complete and utter love. The faces radiate peace and joy. This painting always makes me think of my wonderful husband.
And the words that accompany the picture are perfect too:
“Sunken waves play against our faces and unfurl opalescent fins where splintered sunlight glitters and moss cloaked treasures sleep”.
I can’t really recommend this book highly enough. It is bold and provocative, beautiful and arousing, even twenty years after it’s first publication. I suppose it is a testament to it’s quality and timeless appeal that it is still available in paperback form from new on www.amazon.co.uk for just £9.79, and the original 1985 hardback version is also available second hand from several Amazon marketplace sellers.
There are many other Vallejo books available; including “Dreams”, “Superheroes” and “Ladies”, and a calendar of the best pictures is produced every year.
This isn’t a book for everyone, and all those “perfect” female bodies can be a little wearing sometimes if I’m feeling a bit self-critical, but that is the only downside. I love this book, but then I know nothing about art….I just know what I like.
