The Problem with Orientalist Art

Zirrar on the problem with Orientalist art

Snake charmers, carpet vendors, devoted worshippers and veiled women; what is it about Orientalist art that is so appealing to the eye?

The Orientalist framing of North Africa and the Middle East by the British and French, in both literature and art, has fascinated not only the curious Westerner but also audiences of the East. Do such Orientalist fantasies created by the Western artist help us better understand and celebrate the rich past of the East by filling a void in Eastern art history? Or are they more malignant in their intentions?

Storytelling in the East

Art and literature by Eastern authors and artists has never been in short supply. In the literary world, storytelling (pure fiction), poetry and even drama, date back thousands of years. The oldest known fictional piece of work is the ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, a mythic poem that appeared as early as the third millennium in what is now Iraq. Four thousand years on, and many rich and diverse civilisations later, the Persians delivered the ‘Shahnameh’, an epic masterpiece that is amongst the greatest literary pieces ever written. In the Middle East, storytelling dates further back to a great oral tradition, where poetry has been a medium to recall and revive tales of the past; from the birth of the richest style of poetry, the ghazal, to fantastical fictional tales, including the ‘Alf Laylal wa-Laylah’ (One Thousand and One Nights). Similar traditions are found in the Indian Subcontinent and across the rest of the Eastern world.

The arrival of the French and the British in Egypt and North Africa (c.1799) gave birth to the organised ‘sciences’ and formal study of the Orient. Writers, thinkers and artists adopted the title of ‘Orientalist’, often unaware that their work performed part of their duty and service to the imperialist and colonialist European powers. This led to a body of work that would not only shape a global image of the Orient for the West, but also the East. From mapping city landscapes, to documenting and illustrating architecture and the peoples of these lands, European Orientalists were recruited to serve two specific purposes: document what had once been -covering the classical history period of the Middle East and North Africa- and capture the current life of the Orient. Both were open to free interpretation and Orientalists were encouraged and even enabled to travel across the French and British occupied lands to achieve this mission.

At one time, literature and art created by Western Orientalists, was purely for Western audiences. It was a way to understand and imagine the far, distant and mysterious East. How does the native really live? How does he socialise, interact and live day to day? And thus, Orientalism in art, literature and even music was born. In the literary world, Kipling and Austen could give us a view of not only India but of the West Indies; Conrad could take us, hand in hand, to the ‘heart of darkness’ in Africa; and if words were lacking, then French and British artists, such as Jean-Léon Gérôme, could lift the veil masking the Orient in the Ottoman and Middle Eastern lands without effort. And instantly, in rich and vibrant colours, the Orient was exposed. To be feasted on and absorbed.

So why is Orientalist art so popular?

Despite an extensive history and presence of art, the majority of the Islamic world preferred to stay away from work that depicted the human form. Known as ‘aniconism’, the purpose and intention of art was vastly different to that of Europe. Art in the Muslim world, or ‘Islamic Art’, was- from its beginning- a form of worship for the faithful believer. Arabic calligraphy and illuminated art in Quranic manuscripts, vaulted ceilings and muqaranas in mosques, arabesque and geometrical pattens on tiles, were just some of the mediums through which the artist, the observer and the owner of the art could acknowledge and remember the infinitude and beauty of God around him.

Iznik tiles, second half of the 16th century.

Aniconism was a catalyst for ingenuity, as it cultivated a curiosity for what was not depicted. For a thousand years, the Muslim world created art that still inspires and awes the onlooker today. The majestic beauty of Islamic architecture and calligraphy later spilled over into European architecture and art also. The creative genius and spirit of the East is unquestionable. With some exceptions, notably the Persians, art remained mostly symbolic, metaphysical and purely natural.

In Persia, including the lands of the Mughals in India and some parts of the Middle East, art evolved into beautiful storytelling. Miniature art accompanied poetry and storytelling and became the preferred way to capture the powerful and beautiful legacy of the rulers and societies in which it was created.

Mughal painting. *Babur Receives a Courtier* by Farrukh Beg c. 1580–85, from Rawżat aṣ-ṣafāʾ.

Today, a single original leaf of a miniature dating back a few centuries can fetch millions in Western auction houses. In Safavid and Qajar ruled Iran, the rules and traditions of aniconism were less domineering. One must only visit Safavid palaces in Isfahan today to see walls decked with large portraits. Often these depict large royal banquets, scenes of successful military campaigns or mythical tales of favourite folktales.

Beyond banquets and war, miniature art was also used to tell religious stories. Many Prophetic tales were told in exquisite detail.

Yusuf and Zulaikha (Yusuf pursued by Potiphar’s wife), miniature by Behzād, 1488.

Curious minds wanting to gaze upon paintings of the Near and Middle East and Persia today, will then find two options: to look at miniature art from these regions (that is limited in what it depicts and suffers from its own biases), or look at European Orientalist art, which often fictionalised realities. Where miniature art evolved organically within the East, Orientalist art was an outside phenomenon, born from the mind and imagination of a people who knew little about the East, and in some cases created by artists who had never even visited. If miniature art wanted to show the wealth, power and luxury of a ruler, or to depict famous tales and legends, Orientalist art wanted to capture the European artist’s own rose-tinted imaginings of the East, often intermingled with imperial ambitions and politics of the empire to which the artist belonged.

So what is Orientalist art and who are these Orientalist artists?

Art historians today identify two broad types of Orientalist artist: the realists who carefully painted what they observed, and those who imagined Orientalist scenes without ever leaving their studios. French painters such as Eugène Delacroix (d. 1863) and Jean-Léon Gérôme (d. 1904) are widely regarded as the leading luminaries of the Orientalist movement.

Jean-Léon Gérôme travelled to the Near East – specifically Egypt and Asia Minor in 1868 for a mere 12 weeks, and while he most likely didn’t paint while traveling, he most certainly saw things and met people that inspired him to create art from his studio back in France.

‘The Snake Charmer’

Let’s go through some of Gérôme’s most famous works. The Snake Charmer’, which gained a level of notoriety matched by a few other Orientalist paintings, was completely made up. No such place or scene existed. The painting shows a young boy, completely nude, with a serpent wrapped around his waist playing a flute to a group of older men.

The Problem with Orientalist art — ‘The Snake Charmer’ by Jean-Léon Gérôme

The wall is decked with Iznik tiles; the calligraphy is difficult to read, and most likely made up to resemble Arabic, whereas the top panel of large calligraphy is the famous Quranic verse 256 from sura al-Bakara (‘The Cow’), and reads:

“There is no compulsion in religion—the right way is indeed clearly distinct from error. So whoever disbelieves in the devil and believes in Allah, he indeed lays hold on the firmest handle which shall never break. And Allah is Hearing, Knowing…”

In an essay by Linda Nochlin, entitled ‘The Imaginary Orient’, Nochlin points out “that the seemingly photorealistic quality of the painting allows Gérôme to present an unrealistic scene as if it were a true representation of the east.” Nochlin calls The Snake Charmer “a visual document of nineteenth-century colonialist ideology” in which:

“the watchers huddled against the ferociously detailed tiled wall in the background of Gérôme’s painting are resolutely alienated from us, as is the act they watch with such childish, trancelike concentration. Our gaze is meant to include both the spectacle and its spectators as objects of picturesque delectation.…Clearly, these black and brown folk are mystified—but then again, so are we. Indeed, the defining mood of the painting is mystery, and it is created by a specific pictorial device. We are permitted only a beguiling rear view of the boy holding the snake. A full frontal view, which would reveal unambiguously both his sex and the fullness of his dangerous performance, is denied us. And the insistent, sexually charged mystery at the center of this painting signifies a more general one: the mystery of the East itself, a standard topos of the Orientalist ideology.”¹

‘The Slave Market’

Painted in 1866 again by Jean-Léon Gérôme, it depicts an unspecific Middle Eastern or North African setting (most likely Cairo) where multiple men inspect the body and teeth of a nude, female slave. As was the case with most Orientalist art pieces, women are depicted as sexually passive and easily available, while the men are shown as domineering, disrespectful and even barbaric.

Gérôme had a particular fascination (or obsession) with slave markets. Here are a few more examples:

‘The Bath’ is an excellent example of the eroticism that was often seen in Orientalist works. With a voyeuristic approach, the viewers see a nude, raven-haired women with porcelain white skin who is being washed by her African odalisques, dressed in teal, yellow and orange fabric that is slowly slipping down her chest, revealing her breasts.

Let’s look at some other Orientalist artists.

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, a French artist, was one of those that never actually travelled to the East, instead using only his imagination when creating his Orientalist works such La Grande Odalisque of 1814 and The Turkish Bath in 1863.

Found at the Louvre, his famous work The Turkish Bath is extremely erotic and voyeuristic, due to its circular format and the nude harem enjoying their time at the bath.

Eugène Delacroix, is another French Orientalist who painted with little travel. He is credited with beginning the trend that mixed sex, violence, lassitude and exoticism, which runs through much of French Orientalist painting. Like many later Orientalist painters, he was also frustrated by the lack of opportunity in sketching women in the Muslim world. However, he was apparently able to get into the women’s quarters of a house one time, to sketch what became his famous Women of Algiers.

So who or what is the Orient?

The Orient was often portrayed as exotic, colourful and sensual. The work of Orientalist painters typically concentrated on Arabs, Jewish and other Semites found in North Africa or the Middle East, where the French and British expanded their colonial rule. Let’s look closely at some of the themes:

The lazy, exotic and mysterious Oriental

The ’Oriental’ man, who lives in distant and unrecognisable lands is found in deserts and sand dunes, prostrating under tall arches, praying on rooftops or found slouching in a state of idleness. His favourite hobbies are sipping tea, to be hypnotised in fervent worship or carrying out mysterious religious rituals of his desert religion. The Oriental man is often found propped as an object, in a crowded backdrop packed with imagined orientalist objects, disguised and framed among colourful tiles, elaborate carpets and intricate woodwork and adorned in ethnic garbs. He is always ready to fascinate the onlooker with his other-worldly existence. But remember, he is mysterious and intense, and must always be treated with natural suspicion.

Concubines, Harems and the Odalisques

Exhibited in Life and Death: Western Imperialism and the Exhibition of Colonised Bodies

The Oriental woman is particularly fascinating. Characterised as entirely passive, she is an object of sexual desires (of the painter and the male subjects in paintings). She is framed in harems, slave markets or bathhouses, always sexually available for men. She is either entirely nude or cloaked – for the Oriental (male or female) only exists in extreme realities.

*L’Odalisque et l’esclave* by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

The Orientalist painter couldn’t, however, depict the European woman the way he could the Oriental. Whilst nudity is very common in European art (it’s a very popular theme in Italian renaissance art and artwork showing the Classical period), it was considered ill-fitting for a contemporary English or French woman in the 18th and 19th centuries to be shown nude. The Oriental women though, was an exception. It was argued by Orientalists that in the Orient, women did not possess the same position of respect and status, and to paint them was part of the artists commitment to realism.

Although French artists like Delacroix, Gérôme and others painted many works depicting Islamic culture, their favourite themes were always harems and lounging odalisques (chambermaids often accompanying a nude mistress). This iconography of the odalisque, that focuses on the Oriental sex slave whose image is offered up to the viewer as freely as she is available to her master, is entirely French in origin, though other European painters later adopted this fictionalised imagery.²

The art reflects what the Orientalist wanted to see. Barbarians, mystics, naked harems (to show what the natives didn’t want to show). Art allowed them to achieve what they couldn’t in real life.

Was another way possible?

John Frederick Lewis, another Orientalist painter, actually lived in the Middle East (Cairo) for several years and painted highly detailed works with a focus on actual realistic scenes of Middle Eastern life, including the private quarters of upper-class Egyptian houses. He did this without utilising Orientalist tropes made popular by other European painters.

Lewis preferred to pay attention to actual detail, carefully showing what Islamic architecture, furnishings and actual clothing look liked. When he would paint people, he painted actual scenes he came across in his time in Cairo. His paintings exhibit a realism that is not found in the work of other Orientalist painters. Lewis also never painted nudes and rather than create imagined local woman, he often had his wife model for harem scenes. The sexually charged atmosphere of other painters is missing in his work, where the clothing of the women compliment their natural beauty.

‘*And the prayer of the faithful shall save the sick’*’ by John Frederick Lewis

Later in his career, Lewis’s work would influence others to follow his lead. Other artists such as Richard Dadd, Edward Lear and David Roberts, preferred more natural landscape paintings, and produced high quality architecture and scenic views without having to fictionalise characters and details.

Concluding remarks

It is easy to view and interpret Orientalist paintings as nothing more than art – aesthetically pleasing pictures of a time gone by. Art, which, though slightly romanticised, one might ask, poses no real risk.
However, art- especially fictionalised realism- can quickly mimic and masquerade as a non-existent reality that reinforces positive and negative stereotypes.

In the case of Orientalist art, one might choose to only see the visual richness of the East, its beautifully decked palaces, its incredibly adorned people, and feel a sense of melancholy and nostalgia for a time they wish they knew. Other’s however take this rose-tinted reality a little further and adopt or strengthen existing biases. For these people, the East, once a setting for the 1001 Arabian Nights, is drenched in exotic sensuality and barbarity, a fascination that must be indulged further. Truth, no matter how urgent, if too familiar to our own identity, must be discarded and glossed over to make room for mystery and fantastical imaginings.

Whilst some people can distinguish between art and reality, many have no reference but Orientalist literature and art to imagine the East. This very well might explain why even today old tropes of the East, including the Far East, have become dominant in our minds when we think of the Arab or the Chinese. The Arab man, hooked-nose, camel jockey, once a barbarian dwelling in deserts is today a violent maniac who continues to oppress women, practise a mad religion and is unable to adopt ‘proper’ civilised European values. This Oriental, therefore, is unworthy of respect, and self-rule and sovereignty are rights that cannot be squandered on him (is that why we keep overthrowing Middle Eastern states?). We keep asking, generation after generation, why he ‘hates us’, assuming his existence is incompatible with ours, why his world is so bizarre to us, but never ask why we cannot look beyond a veil that we ourselves have implanted in front of our eyes.

Showing the Oriental or native in a way that suited the white European imagination served multiple purposes. Firstly, during the time of imperial adventure, it allowed a narrative to be written that demonstrated control and power of the master over the slave. Even after many Muslim lands were colonised by Europeans, certain cultural and religious spaces could not be dominated. Painting became a way to ‘remove the veil’, to show that the native was not beyond the reach of the European imagination, thus demonstrating absolute power (over mind and body), while also to demonstrating to European audiences back home just how exotic and strange the land of the Orient was. Often the awe and fascination that comes with the bizarre ‘other’ lends itself to the acceptance that the other is less human, less-worthy of self-rule, and what would be considered oppression and criminal, is not only excusable but in some cases absolutely necessary to tame the Oriental (the French called it the Civilisation Mission).

In the early days of colonial adventurism, the works of Orientalist creatives (authors and painters) beckoned other Europeans to seek fortune in these distant Eastern lands. Explorers, bounty hunters and art collectors, often backed or encouraged by European governments plundered the East. Orientalist paintings had created propositions too beautiful to ignore. Did the native really live in such a rich and treasure filled world? Grand palaces of the sultans, carpet sellers and bazaars of Egypt, priceless artefacts in the form of pottery and weaponry just lying about? Over the next 150 years, ancient artefacts from mosques, palaces, private homes and public spaces would be looted and end up in the hands of European dealers and private collectors. To ‘celebrate’ the richness and beauty of the East, the Westerner had to own the beauty and to profit from it. Orientalist painters in their own life would only paint to sell art and would often make a handsome amount. Today Orientalist art continues to attract and inspire the enthusiast, and many pieces have sold for millions of dollars, with crazed interest, from Arabs in the Gulf countries. So why does it fascinate us so much?

Orientalist painters then, carefully responded to the demand of European audiences while also reflecting the political and moral narrative that the powerful empire wanted to paint. In some cases, even the Oriental painted himself in the same style (see Osman Hamdi Bey), but in the end the legacy of Orientalist art is clear for all to see: a fictional world, marred with inaccuracies, false imaginings, all posing as a rare glimpse into a far, exotic land that never existed in any place but the mind of the European painter.

Footnotes

¹ ^{Nochlin, Linda. “The Imaginary Orient”, Art in America, (May 1983), pp. 118–131, pp. 187–191. Reprinted in The Politics Of Vision: Essays On Nineteenth-century Art And Society by Linda Nochlin, Avalon Publishing, 1989. Reprinted in The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, edited by Schwartz and Przyblyski, Routledge, 2004, p. 289-298.}

^{2 DelPlato, Joan (2002). Multiple Wives, Multiple Pleasures: Representing the Harem, 1800–1875. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press. p. 9.}