IN THE SUMMER of 2005, I was contacted by the Tom of Finland Foundation about the possibility of my writing a brief Foreword for a collection of the gay artist Tom of Finland’s drawings, an expensive, large-format book to be published this year by a prestigious German publisher, Taschen. I was baffled as to why I would be solicited since I have never publicly expressed admiration for, or even an opinion about, Finland’s work, and I have written about the need to explore—not judge—certain gay charades of violence like those celebrated in his drawings. My “outlaw” status, I was told, would complement the book. I suspected, too, that it was felt that I might add a certain “literary respectability” and seriousness to the book, perhaps allowing the collection to be viewed as a chic, if exotic, coffee-table book rather than one relegated to a specialized group of core admirers.
I met with the editor, a charming woman. It was agreed that I would write the Foreword on one condition: that I would be free to express my views. When I went through copies of the drawings that were provided and that would be included in the collection, I became uneasy very soon. When I came upon one where a swastika predominated in the context of gay subjugation, I felt I could not write the kind of introduction that I assumed the publishers expected. I did not want to contribute a Foreword that would harm their endeavor. Both the editor of the collection and the head of the Foundation were informed of my intent to withdraw. I was encouraged to proceed with the Foreword, even if controversial, and I did so with the clear understanding that they might choose not to publish it.
The editor admired the resulting essay and wanted to use it. The head of the foundation, a long time devotee of Finland, did not, nor did board members.
The main focus of disagreement was my discussion of Nazi influences, some explicit, others suggested, in some of the drawings. The head of the foundation wrote me an instructive, courteous—and moving—defense of the views of his one-time mentor. My attitude remained unchanged. I had felt my Foreword would add interest, perhaps arouse discussion that would benefit the book. Without bad feelings toward the people who had treated me respectfully, I withdrew the Foreword from consideration, and I am on good terms with those involved in the venture.
I continue to believe that my Foreword addresses matters not generally explored, and, for that reason, is worthy of being read. That Foreword appears here as written. Following that is a recent postscript expanding on my views.
Foreword to Tom of Finland Collection
IN VIEW of current attitudes engendered by advances in gay liberation, how do Tom of Finland’s wondrously popular figures emerge? In some areas, as way ahead of their time.
There is a laudable sexual democracy established within these drawings. A man “tops” in one and “bottoms” in another, mirror images with no prejudicial demarcation. Not here do we find the reactionary growing fascination in gay circles with “straight men”: Finland’s men are all unquestionably gay; not here any “I’m-straight-dude” posturing, no “gay-for-pay” nonsense implied, no fake attraction to women, who are very few in this population. All the men involved are masculine and commitedly gay, and they kiss hotly; and those are among Mr. Finland’s best figures, the ones that suggest romance, the possibility that after the tumbles of rough sex, the men may pair off and share an exhausted sleep, holding each other.
Gay sex is celebrated, proudly performed, never hidden in these drawings; these are all proud outlaws. A street, even a grocery store, becomes the site of an orgy as energetic as one occurring in a bar or in an enclosed forest. There is never a trace of shame in their activities among the protagonists of Finland’s drawings. In their perfect handsome features, the faces of the men suggest a sensitivity beyond the exaggerated masculinity and the occasional sneers that at times seem about to turn into smiles—and, yes, these men do smile, staring longingly at each other. Not here the distorted faces of too-often-pursued “rough trade.”
The cumulative effect of these drawings is of rampant fantasy, of gay theater, performance. The assertive uniforms are so powerful, so revered among Finland’s legion of fans and leathermen, that they are capable of transforming—magically—even the most ordinary gay men into their fantasy image, the perfect heroes of Finland’s drawings. They are thus empowered in their gay identity.
What, then, so disturbs about these drawings? Bluntly put, it is the prevalence of Nazi imagery. At times it is overt and more often strongly implied. The men depicted are all Aryan, quintessential “supermen,” even those in the role of slaves. African-Americans are depicted in the later years, but they are really darkened Aryans.
The swastika is prominent in at least one drawing, bold, assertive, dominating the foreground of two men in a master-slave relationship, which recurs in the drawings. Shiny black boots are licked hungrily, whipping is courted and accepted ecstatically, hands beg for handcuffs. This is all voluntary, of course. There is never a suggestion of actual force. Instead, ecstatic faces celebrate their performance, a miming of violence, however suggestive it may be of actual violence, rape, punishment.
Although the bodies depicted are outrageously muscled, they are seldom entirely naked—here and there a twisting body is glimpsed. Feet are always covered with boots. No trace of pubic hair peeks through the bursting pouches. For full display, the beautiful bodies here require camouflage, as if the naked body is not sensual enough, as if the participants need the uniform to sustain their fantasized performance.
The point is often made that symbols lose their primary meaning, become merely decoration. True. But some symbols not only do not lose their symbolic power but gain strength as time puts into glaring perspective the events that they evoke, and so they become stronger. The Christian cross is one of those symbols, for good or bad; so is the hammer-and-sickle. The Nazi swastika cannot be extricated from evoking one of the most monstrous events of the 20th century, and earlier, the systematic incarceration, torture, and annihilation of millions of Jews, gypsies, the handicapped—and homosexuals.
How then to separate Mr. Finland’s fantasy figures from the harsh—if perhaps deeply buried—suggestion of gay self-loathing, the celebration of a master race? How to separate the miming of the actual punishments gay people have been exposed to in a heterosexual world, such as humiliation, incarceration, assault?
Many gay men, especially the “leathermen” spawned by Mr. Finland, are able to disengage all symbolic resonance from antecedent cruelty, pointing out that the leather faction, among all gay factions, is perhaps the most tolerant and generous to minority causes of all homosexual groups. That is true. Certainly that faction is the least ageist, although no one in Mr. Finland’s drawings appears to be over thirty.
And so, here now in this exceptional collection are all the extraordinary drawings for the first time. They will unquestionably delight thousands of fans throughout the world who will argue against any negative insinuation, including mine. Others will be able now, with this collection, to scrutinize the drawings as to the reasons for their undeniable significance, positive or negative, within the gay world. June 15, 2005
Postscript
Chains, whips, punishing belts, tongue-polished boots, handcuffs, iron collars, harnesses—how to reconcile those props of enslavement with gay liberation? All are used in rituals of mimed punishment and humiliation in the turf of gay S&M; and all are celebrated in detail in the best-known drawings by that faction’s hero-artist, Tom of Finland. A serious discussion of the symbolic implications of those props and rituals is taboo in certain quarters. Merely to attempt to explore such aspects is to invite a barrage of outraged criticism.
It is important to emphasize that I once frequented gay leather settings and experienced the excitement of its rituals. I do not speak as an outsider but as a former avid participant. I still retain the views expressed in the Foreword about aspects that are admirable in Finland’s drawings—the democracy of sexual positions, the lack of shame among the protagonists in their overtly gay identification, the “outlaw” nature of their disregard for locations of sexual performance (i.e., everywhere).
The leather faction is deadly serious and passionately defensive about its attitudes and rites. “Perfect trust” between “master” and “slave” is proclaimed as its underlying credo for ceremonies of mimed punishment—which, however, often spill into untrustworthy excess. Dozens of advertisements for leather bars in a gay San Francisco newspaper include one that vaunts a “Pig Trough” and shouts this exhortation: “Fuck my mouth, swine!” (A touch of welcome gay wit is provided by another advertisement on the following page, which laments: “It is not difficult to find a good harness, but very hard to find a good cologne.”)
Some of the symbolic implications of the props of punishment and humiliation drawn lovingly by Finland and cherished by gay leathermen seem to me to be inescapable. Consider the costume itself. Undeniably visually striking—spatters of glisteny studs upon velvety black leather, enhanced by intricate configurations of crisscrossed, sequined belts—it is also camouflage; a hood or mask often is added as further disguise. The transformative power of the costume is so strong that the mild-mannered antique dealer of gay lore (physically not unlike Tom of Finland the artist) may appear, once decked out, as a messenger of dark power. That transformation is dramatic. In my incursions into the world of leathermen, I found that some of the most menacing and dedicated performers in the theater of gay S&M were, out of their role-playing uniform, among the sweetest and kindest men of my acquaintance.
In leather bars, the costume may become the main bait for cruising, rendering what is under it, the body, less seductive. I have seen men completely covered in leather—pants, boots, jackets, gloves, masks—cruised hotly. No sliver of flesh is uncovered. (There might be an implicit puritanical aversion to the naked body in assigning it such a lesser role.) In its essence, the antecedent to this costume is that of the medieval executioner, complete with boots, leather chaps, a hood. More contemporary antecedents, all revered in Finland’s drawings, are cops, military men, and storm troopers. All are representative of legendarily heterosexual homophobic forces: cops arrest us, the military labels and shuns us, storm troopers herded us into camps.
In Tom of Finland’s drawings, just as in rituals of S&M, the leering sadist may become the pleading masochist. In his exploration of masochism and sadism in The Trial of Gilles de Rais, French philosopher Georges Bataille advanced the notion that the language of S&M is the language of the victim. That is consistent with the telling irony that the designation “S&M” refers as easily to “sadist and masochist” as to “slave and master.” Thus the revealing and leveling equation: “sadist-slave,” “masochist-master,” both alternating as victims.
Finland’s fans do not hesitate to laud him as a worthy artist; gallery exhibitions of his work draw myriad admirers. How does he compare with other gay artists of the time? Kris of Chicago produced spindly drawings, ghosts of muscular figures; they amount to no more than bad sketches. There was Quaintance and his lithe men, cowboys and Indians often posed in a Western bar, sinewy muscles kissed by silvery moonlight. The best of Quaintance’s drawings have a romantic three-dimensional quality. Much more seriously, Aubrey Beardsley’s drawings are notably satirical and witty. The giant phalluses (celebrated religiously by Finland) become comical Maypoles to be garlanded and danced around with feathery dusters. In Cocteau’s erotic drawings, an economy of white lines against a black background and black lines against a white background appear strikingly fluorescent.
Paul Cadmus’s paintings are gorgeous, a feast of bold colors; several are also unblinking representations of some aspects of the gay world. In Bar Italia, the faces of the desired are beautiful and grotesque, a combination of the two extremities of Dorian Gray, of what he is now and what he will become. Grotesqueness is exaggerated into depravity in the surrounding faces bloated by lust. Those intimations of sexual anarchy are contained within an architectonic symmetry. Highly erotic paintings often comment on social issues, such as strikebreakers in the Herrin Massacre. In Sailors and Floosies, a discarded newspaper announces the death of thousands killed in war as, in the foreground, sailors and whores revel drunkenly on a lawn like casualties.
Finland’s drawings are devoid of satire, lacking in reflective commentary, largely wanting in wit. (There are exceptions, such as a good one in which a dowager is poking with an umbrella the bubble butt of a muscular hero flirting with another.) Finland’s drawings are one-dimensional cartoons. Paradoxically, his supermen may become feminine in their exaggerated musculature. Round pectorals without natural striations look like breasts atop wasp waists. Finland’s primary effect is to arouse sexually, and there’s nothing wrong with that, a noble goal indeed. The allure he has for legions of gay men testifies to his enormous success in this respect. None of this is to imply that representations of violence are prevalent only in Finland’s drawings. The proliferation of sado-masochism in gay pornography, especially in movies, attests to a much wider popularity.
For me, the relevant question is this: what is the real reason these figures, these masturbatory images, fascinate gay men so powerfully? And the fascination extends to gay men far beyond the demarcations of leather quarters, including even some who disdain more conventional pornography. What so fascinates us in Finland’s well-known drawings of enacted violence, like a typical one of a man enchained by a tight iron collar and ankle holds, nipples clamped, genitals squeezed into bursting engorgement as two uniformed men, a pseudo-executioner and a pseudo-SS man, prepare to punish him further? Is the sexually arousing element the muscular bodies and the monumentally aroused cocks of the three protagonists? Or is it the powerful suggestion of punishment for gay desire? January 1, 2006
John Rechy’s essays are assembled in a 2004 book, Beneath the Skin: Collected Essays (Carroll & Graf).
