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Sarah's avatar

So there is something stuck in my craw about this Sabrina Carpenter thing. I thankfully keep my distance from most poptimism discourse these days, and I know the album art HAS attracted negative responses, but I’ve actually seen much more defenses than handwringing. What’s bothering me about the latter is that I haven’t seen a single one of these defenses make a solid argument for why the art is good. Those on the “this cover art is bad” side are making some very strong points: that it IS regressive and objectifying and makes uncomfortable visual references to a time when women were treated like property and didn’t have much agency. I've actually not seen any of the photo's defenders say why it's good, or even that it IS good— the defense, from what I’ve seen, has mostly been “grow up and let the pop star be horny.” But you’re the first defender I’ve seen point to how she looks visibly uncomfortable in the photo, and to wonder if Carpenter is actually a very skilled satirist. This is the beginning of an interesting argument, and I would’ve liked to hear more. But the pivot from almost talking about the art in question to, first, lambasting negative responses to it (that are, in many cases, rooted in negative experiences that can and often do come with existing in a gendered body that is different from yours) and then having the audacity to compare opinions about a pop star's aesthetic choices to bad takes about a massive threat to collective civil rights (in a country you don’t live in) is wild ad hominem at best and genuinely offensive at worst.

It's fair to say some of the responses to Carpenter are slut-shamy, reductive, and unfair, and sometimes they lack nuance. Sure! But pop culture and its representatives don’t exist in a vacuum, and Carpenter is, on paper, doing pretty much exactly what has been expected of conventionally attractive (thin, white) women in the public eye for many decades. It is fair to say it isn’t as simple as just a pop star being horny because she’s very visible and presented as aspirational, and we do take cues from each other on what messages these images are communicating.

For example, you mention “Ozempic and body hacking,” a phenomenon that is popular because people are watching each other do it, and eating disorders are social diseases triggered by repeated exposure to and normalization of unnaturally thin bodies and the increasing pressure to obtain one at any cost. While this pressure is becoming less gendered, it has, for a long time, been a predominantly feminine pressure, and millennial women’s strong reaction to the return of low-rise hemlines comes from how many of them developed eating disorders to fit into the insane standards of the fashion that was sold to them as teenagers. And these bodies may be sold as a sexual ideal, but many women who have recovered from eating disorders describe the embodied experience of that self-denial as completely antithetical to the desire for sex. On a similar note, heterosexual dating is a famously horrible experience for women that can be dehumanizing on a number of levels, from essentially having to commoditize ourselves on apps or—if participation in that marketplace goes where you’re suggesting it’d be healthy for it to go—really porny, uncomfortable, and often at least semi-violent sex. And it doesn’t feel good to participate in, but there’s a pressure to do it anyway because dominant messages from pop culture repeatedly argue that things like being conventionally attractive, sexually available, and appealing to men are what make women valuable.

So what makes the responses to Carpenter’s album art conservative, as opposed to the art itself being conservative? Is there not a palpable trad wifeyness to Carpenter’s Vargas girl image? Because a hellish alternative to the threat of “dying alone as an old maid” could be to buy into the regressive idea of what a woman is “supposed” to be in order to attract a husband, only to end up as a prisoner in the golden cage of a toxic marriage. And to your point, if I think about this and remember the look on Carpenter’s face in that photo, the one you call attention to for a second, NOW I’m interested. Is she doing this on purpose? No one seems to want to investigate this.

I, for one, don’t really care about Carpenter being horny on main, and I think her cover art is a shitty picture that looks like an outtake from a shoot for a liquor ad. But the discourse reducing reactions to this art to moral panic handwringing instead of talking about it on the basis of its creative merits concerns me a lot more than the art itself. When did criticism just become discourse? I read your stuff every week, appreciate your opinions, and often wonder what you’re going to say about whatever topics have come up in the past week. But I find it interesting to notice that while you argue for informed cultural criticism, the need for media literacy and pushing against anti-intellectualism on some topics, others are loudly “not that deep,” and there doesn’t necessarily seem to be a ton of consistency on what subject garners which response. Why is one thing worth further discussion and analysis, but wanting to think about the deeper context of an image that understandably pisses some people off signals “a respectability sickness”? You’ve mentioned concerns about the memory-holing of the pandemic, and keeping tabs on your worries about similar threats to our collective welfare, and yet there’s no consideration for why significant numbers of people might be “having less fun and taking less risks” after we all watched over 25 million people around the world die completely unnecessary deaths for literally just sharing air. It's just not as simple as “lighten up and live a little,” because the choices we make affect each other, and they're often informed by the very purposeful agendas of people in power who are involved in creating the images we absorb, especially when we absorb them without thought. “It’s not that deep” is a very slippery slope that’s absolutely played a role in the rise of a lot of conservative phenomena like Ozempic and tradwives and redpilling. You seem to know and be interested in this!

But to go back to my main point, if this Sabrina Carpenter album cover is worth defending, is it because it’s actually good art, or are its defenders more interested in clarifying their stance on “the right side” of an ongoing moral panic discourse than actually engaging with the art? And why are the art’s detractors not worth hearing out? Is saying it’s bad to think a piece of art is bad without saying why the art is good not its own form of baseless reactionary thinking? And if the defenses are coming from a place of seeing Carpenter as an artist with an interesting point of view, would the take of “just let her be horny” not do something of a disservice to her creative vision? And in what world is a negative response to her output even remotely comparable to bad faith takes on a terrifying, building civil rights crisis? As a regular reader who respects your work, this essay was a real bummer.

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Ben Dietz's avatar

"Like all of us, Anna and Tom are endlessly empty tummies constantly craving tummy time." worries the hell out of me. FWIW 'tummy time' is *actually* about getting an infant to exert strength and discover agency.

The implication in the sentence is that we're all hoping to wallow as our main activity. That's concerning. It's opposite of why we seek 'tummy time' for kids, actually, IMO - but acquiescing to its cutest impulse means we're prone to wallow first, ask for catechisms later.

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