Throughout “Reading Racial Fetishism: The Photographs of Robert Mapplethorpe,” Kobena Mercer attempts to define what art is—for himself, and for culture as a whole—by deconstructing Robert Mapplethorpe's “Black Males (1983) and The Black Book (1986),” which “catalogue a series of perspectives, vantage points and ‘takes’ on the black male body.”¹ Mercer's criticism almost explains away what the experience of making is about for the artist. For me, it has to do with a chaotic, explorative process—largely out of your immediate control—through which you learn about yourself and the world you presently inhabit. Therefore, I find it puzzling that the author, claming to be an artist himself, repeatedly uses examples that presume artists premeditate each element of their work in order to achieve a specific effect in the world, which suggests that the artist possesses control over this. Besides the process being partly intangible, no human is clever enough to ultimately foresee the infinite number of readings possible in their end product and strategically plan for them along the way. However, Mercer's choice to closely focus on Mapplethorpe's photographs for analysis broadly suggests that artists have calculated intentions. Where this may appear to be the goal for some artists, it certainly does not apply to all. Works derived from the appropriation of existing material in order to make a statement about that specifically chosen material could be placed in this category, precisely because the artist makes an attempt to deliver a didactic, visual commentary on a specific issue in the form of artwork. The problem here may lie in the terminology used to uncover the myriad interpretations of aesthetic objects; those created by artists and read by an audience.

Although Mercer states, “I therefore want to talk about Mapplethorpe's Black Males not as the product of the personal intentions of the individual behind the lens, but as a cultural artifact,” he does just that when he highlights Mapplethorpe's “master vision,” and “his complete control of photo-technique.”² The author explains how the artist asserts this control by relating it to Mapplethorpe's careful implementation of codes.³ Here, Mercer lays down the groundwork for what he assumes to be the artist's strategic plan: “In Mapplethorpe, we may discern three discrete camera codes, …which aestheticizes the stereotype into a work of art,”⁴ which Mercer categorizes as the sculptural code, the portraiture code, and the lighting and cropping codes.⁵ Mercer argues that Mapplethorpe deliberately uses the portraiture code to “introduce an element of realism into the scene,”⁶ and through the utilization of lighting code, arranges it so the “harsh contrasts of shadow and light draw the eye to the focus and fix attention on the texture of the black man's skin.”⁷ Based on traditional codes of fine art, Mercer believes that it is Mapplethorpe's conscious intention to apply “specific visual codes…to frame his way of seeing black male bodies as abstract, beautiful ‘things.’”⁸ The author is convinced that the artist put forth these tactics in order to succeed in “‘feminizing’ the black male body into a passive, decorative objet d' art.”⁹

Being subjective elements, visual codes are the true variable of perception based on the combined paradigms of the artist, viewer, critic, culture, et cetera; no one has control over the translations. The readings of these codes are ever changing and, therefore, do not carry the same meanings at all points in time. In other words, visual codes can never translate equally to the way they were traditionally read. This becomes additionally complex because context also changes, and even has changed regarding this specific body of work. According to Mercer, a certain “chain of events has irrevocably altered the context in which we perceive, evaluate and argue about the aesthetic and political value of Mapplethorpe's photographs.”¹⁰ This example demonstrates how viewing Mapplethorpe's work in an historical context can be problematic; the work is time based, and therefore, temporary in its message and meaning. In my opinion, Mercer bases arguments on borrowed cultural theory and outdated models of thinking, as he deconstructs Mapplethorpe's work with added historical baggage, which Mapplethorpe does not necessarily carry.

When the author clearly lays out Mapplethorpe's artistic devices to support his claim, he also gives the reader insight into Mapplethorpe's persona and approach towards photography, which ironically show the artist having vague—if any—such intentions.¹¹ In fact, a BBC interview announces that his work was merely a recording of his personal experience of life, and that he felt obliged “to make images that nobody's seen before and to do it in a way that's aesthetic.”¹² Nevertheless, Mercer insists that “Mapplethorpe appropriates elements of commonplace racial stereotypes in order to regulate, organize, prop up and fixthe process of erotic/ aesthetic objectification…”¹³ How can the artist have the precognition to conceive of such a plan from his unique perspective? In assuming Mapplethorpe's intention is to establish his superiority over the other as object, Mercer makes a direct, personal judgment of the artist's persona, without adequate support to expose Mapplethorpe's intentions.¹⁴ Was he a racist? No; in fact, one of Mapplethorpe's models, Ken Moody, admits, “I don't honestly think of it as exploitation.”¹⁵

Following his deconstruction of art, the author takes a second look at his writings. I appreciate the author's re-reading of his initial argument because it tries to undo his previous notion that all responsibility lies in the hands of the artist. He reveals this attempt by telling us, “I am much more aware of how the ambivalence cuts both ways…”¹⁶ Admitting he gives equal importance to the process of coding and decoding—between the role of artist and viewer—Mercer claims his revision “arises out of a reconsideration of poststructuralist theories of authorship,”¹⁷ and comes to realize, “what is at issue is not primarily whether the question can be decided by appealing to authorial intentions, but the equally important role of the reader and how he or she attributes intentionality to the author.”¹⁸ He then contradicts this by adding, “it really does matter who is speaking,”returning (again) to the issue of authorship for analysis.¹⁹ Regardless that the author has recognized the unlikelihood that the artist holds all responsibility, such as was common with “Romanticist notions of authorial creativity,”²⁰ he continues to argue against himself—almost as if he is on the verge of discovery, but not quite convinced. For example, Mercer comes to understand how the viewer's perception ultimately determines an objects' meaning, but he seems to miss pointing out how discussing his perceived meaning, in this style of discourse, proves to be unproductive because the object, and therefore the meaning (subject under scrutiny), was not meant to be perceived exactly that way. In other words, the visual codes of the object were not uniquely planned for the specific viewer viewing them; they were not put in the specific place they happened to end up in for any strategically planned purpose. The readings have already been predefined, not only by the artist, but by the collective paradigm of human society.

Despite his acceptance that, “criticism cannot bring this process to an end,” Mercer reveals that his main goal for undergoing these analyses is further criticism.²¹ He explains that he wants to prevent the other from placing “their preferred meanings” on Mapplethorpe's work, and to accomplish this task, decides “to delay closure by deepening the work of critical reading.”²² Furthering the criticism only seems to further complicate the work—turning it into something other than it is. Unless it purports to be a definitive statement on something, art cannot endure annihilation to this point. Art is not always supposed to be a theoretical commentary to be absorbed and then dissected in the form of an analytical essay by academia or the other or whoever—only to realize nothing is truly accomplished because there are too many nonlinear dynamics involved.

The author's second critical analysis of Mapplethorpe's photographs only touches on the surface of his discovery. It may be interesting to see an even further re-reading—at an even later context in time. Mercer is aware of the complexity of his dilemma and proposes a solution so that we may be able to find a common element in all existing modes of thought that everyone can agree upon: “I think we need to explore theories that enable new forms of dialogue.”²³ This is where I feel he overlooked his conclusions. To heavily base criticism on, and derive all reactions from, pre-existing theory is not the solution because it places limits on what art can be. When we do, art is never allowed to evolve into anything other than what we write or analyze it as. We do need new dialogues, but that can only be achieved when we create new theories and utopian histories, as well as new terms to relate objects to, because after all, even the term art has an infinite amount of baggage it carries around.