September 2007

WORLD EROTIC
ART MUSEUM
A Fresh Perspective
On Sex And Art
By Zain Deane

Notebook in hand, I stare at a massive gold penis dominating the end of a small room, and I think: “subtle”. From here, we move on to the sculpture gallery, which houses a series of artists’ renderings—some overt, others abstract—of the phallus, the female body, and various forms of fornication.

It’s all part of an afternoon’s visit to the World Erotic Art Museum in (where else?) South Beach. Owner Naomi Wilzig has spent 15 years amassing this astounding collection of erotic art, which spans the globe and the centuries. You might think that Miss Naomi (her nom de guerre) has only trodden on the line between pornography and art, but that would be an unfair assumption. There’s beauty here, and history; there’s a coquettish spirit to some of these works, as well as a social and cultural heritage. And there’s a whole lot of tits and ass.

Sex is the muse and the theme, but so is art: authentic art with modern and ancient works that convey a meaning beyond arousal. Sure, some of these pieces are guaranteed to stimulate something inside you; Miss Naomi doesn’t discriminate and doesn’t judge, and her art covers just about every sexual act you can think of.

Some of the historical pieces here go back thousands of years and are quite provocative. Japanese porcelain figures reveal a hidden underside showing nudity and sexual acts. Other seemingly household curios conceal explicit sexual motifs that are a delight when revealed. One of my favorite pieces was a replica of Catherine the Great’s love-chair, which had erotic carvings of naked women, a couple having sex, and all the genitalia a comfortable seat—with accompanying footstool—needs.

All kidding aside, I realized something very interesting as I toured the galleries at the WEAM: as the centuries have progressed, we’ve become the biggest prudes in civilization. I’m not sure how or exactly when we took an evolutionary U-turn when it came to the most basic and natural act that two human beings can engage in, but the truth is that today, sex is more private and shameful than it’s ever been.

Sure, there are those among us who are into all kinds of fetishes and kinky fantasies. It’s not like we’re afraid to explore our own sexuality, and a weekend in South Beach will show you just how sexual we can be when we want to. It’s more the social attitude about sex that I’m referring to: like the absolute ban on public nudity, whether in our advertising or on our regular TV programs. Or the fact that the concept of sex still carries negative connotations rather than positive ones. Maybe the terror of AIDs and the real need for condoms played a role in making sex a virtual social pariah. But that’s not the only reason.

It’s our skewed, ultra-conservative concept of morality that has led to us shunning—in public—sex, and what sex represents. And the WEAM shows us, quite vividly, how we used to be. Centuries-old African wood carvings show exaggerated phalluses that celebrate fertility. Sexual depictions on something as visible as an old door frame prove how open we once were, and how accepting of sex in our lives. Erotic art from around the world echoes a single theme: we were once more understanding of what sex was; we were once more accepting of erotic pleasure; and we were once able to celebrate a good fuck. When I mean “we” I’m restricting myself to us Americans. People aren’t as repressive in Europe as they are in the U.S. The WEAM, on the other hand, is the only museum of erotic art in the country, and it’s one of South Beach’s newer attractions.

But it’s not all a history lesson. Contemporary artists have carried the long and hard torch, and many of their works are on display. The art you’ll find here ranges from the whimsical, to the absurd, to the beautiful, to the functional (check out the old-school female pleasure-giving machine). There are also a few iconic pieces of erotic art, such as the “Rocking Machine,” from Stanley Kubrik’s A Clockwork Orange and portraits of Marilyn Monroe.

Look, I won’t lie to you: you’d have to be dead not to feel something stirring inside you when you’re overloaded with the erotic imagery in this place. You might even find yourself grinning in a slightly embarrassed way at a particular piece. But you also get the feeling that you’re seeing a fresh perspective on sex, and that maybe we can all learn something here. Isn’t that what a good museum is supposed to do?