Journal of Aesthetics & Culture
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Veils and sunglasses
Thorsten Botz-Bornstein
To cite this article: Thorsten Botz-Bornstein (2013) Veils and sunglasses, Journal of Aesthetics &
Culture, 5:1, 19659, DOI: 10.3402/jac.v5i0.19659
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© 2013 T. Botz-Bornstein
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Journal of AESTHETICS
Vol. 5, 2013
& CULTURE
Veils and sunglasses
Thorsten Botz-Bornstein*
Department of Philosophy, College of Arts and Sciences, Gulf University for Science and Technology, Hawally,
Kuwait
Abstract
Both the veil and sunglasses aim to disrupt gazes. Marshal
McLuhan has analysed sunglasses and their relationship
with his system of hot and cool media. The attractive eyes
of the veiled woman invite the gaze to further scrutiny.
A general but relatively profound attraction is effectuated
first, which will then create the desire to discover the
rest of the face. The perceptual mechanics of dark glasses
works the other way. Here the official part of the face is
freely exposed, but it loses a part of its attractiveness
because the deeper or ‘‘real’’ meaning of the features
cannot be fully construed and, in many cases, is not
supposed to be construed at all. By hiding in an apparently
‘‘cool’’ way one’s official facial expressions, the resulting
play with desire and attraction makes the veil rather
hot in the McLuhanian sense. Further, the article examines if the veiling of women prevents or fosters fetishisation and compares the veil to the technique of
cropping.
Thorsten Botz-Bornstein was
born in Germany, did his undergraduate studies in Paris, and received a Ph.D. in philosophy from
Oxford University in 1993. As a
postdoctoral researcher based in
Finland he undertook research for
four years on Russian formalism
in Russia and the Baltic countries.
He received a ‘‘habilitation’’ from
the EHESS in Paris in 2000. He has also been researching
for three years in Japan on the Kyoto School, and worked
for the Center of Cognition of Hangzhou University
(China) as well as a at Tuskegee University in Alabama.
He is now Associate Professor of philosophy at the Gulf
University for Science and Technology in Kuwait.
Keywords: veils; aesthetics of sunglasses; Islamic culture; coolness; fashion; women; feminism; McLuhan
Both the veil1 and sunglasses aim to disrupt gazes.
This is especially true in the case of the eye-covering
veil where the effect is similar to that of sunglasses. Here the subject cannot be gazed at but
adopts the role of a mere spectator. The veil has
been compared to the mashrabiyya, the wooden
latticework enclosing oriel windows of traditional
Arab houses thus permitting women observing
purdah to look outside without being seen, or to the
Indian jharokha, which serves the same purpose
(Picture 1). To see without being seen is an act of
empowerment and liberation as indicated in a
report of a Swedish woman wearing an all-covering
veil in Saudi Arabia: ‘‘That was the biggest sense
of freedom I have ever had . . . You are like a
spy not taking part and you can pull faces . . .’’
(Franks 2000: 921). In the 1980 British drama
documentary Death of a Princess, Saudi women on
a desert raid sit inside a vehicle taking advantage
of their covering for promiscuity. The car stops:
outside, men dance as if they want to be chosen.
Being covered is a sign of empowerment. Veiling is
associated with traditional Arab notions of power
relations like ‘‘who has the right to be seen by
whom’’ (cf. El Guindi 1999: 94). In a different
context, Frantz Fanon (1967) writes about colonized Algeria that ‘‘this woman who sees without
being seen frustrates the colonizer. There is no
reciprocity. She does not yield herself, does not
give herself, does not offer herself’’ (169). The
problem is that the person who is completely
veiled is too invisible for others as a person and
cannot always fully participate in the social game
played.
*Correspondence to: Thorsten Botz-Bornstein, PO box 7207, Hawally 32093, Kuwait. Email: thorstenbotz@hotmail.com
#2013 T. Botz-Bornstein. This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0
Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/), permitting all non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any
medium, provided the original work is properly cited.
Citation: Journal of Aesthetics & Culture, Vol. 5, 2013 http://dx.doi.org/10.3402/jac.v5i0.19659
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T. Botz-Bornstein
Picture 1. Mashrabiyya.
THE FACE VEIL AND SUNGLASSES
An analysis of the kind of veil that leaves only
the eyes visible (niqab, burka) in comparison with
sunglasses is more interesting. Both the veil and
sunglasses enact a selective covering of the face,
but in the former case only the eyes are uncovered
whereas in the latter the face is visible while the
eyes are covered. The face-covering veil impairs
communication (the woman is less audible because her voice is dampened by the veil and the
covering of the ears impairs her hearing) but her
eyes leave her considerable possibilities to communicate with the outside world. It is perhaps
equally difficult to interact with somebody wearing very dark glasses as it is to interact with a
veiled woman whose only visible facial part are the
eyes. But the difficulties can be traced to different
reasons.
Marshal McLuhan has analysed sunglasses and
their relationship with his system of hot and cool
media. McLuhan’s definition of ‘‘cool’’ bears no
explicit link with typical African American elaborations of the term.2 He rather operates with
an interesting opposition of ‘‘hot’’ presence to a
more elusive but inspiring ‘‘cool’’ semi-presence.
In studies on African American culture, the ‘‘cool
mask’’ as ‘‘an extension of the instinct to survive’’
(Majors and Billson 1992: 60) is often linked
to the use of sunglasses. Joel Dinerstein (1999)
reports that Lester Young’s ‘‘second contribution
to individual self-expression on the bandstand was
the strategic use of sunglasses. ( . . .) Young recognized the use of shades as a mask to deflect the
gaze of others without causing conflict’’ (250). It
seems that since then the cool pose of supreme
indifference has become ‘‘eyes hidden behind
shades’’ (Fraiman 2003: xi) able to symbolize
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habits of transgression and irreverence as a
worldview.
For McLuhan (1964), ‘‘hot’’ is any kind of
information that is highly defined or that ‘‘leaves
not much to be filled in’’ (37). Hot media favour
analytical precision, quantitative analysis, and
sequential ordering and are usually linear and
logical, while ‘‘cool’’ media leave the transmitted
information open to interpretation or even partly
unexplained. Speech is thus ‘‘cooler’’ than highly
defined images. A cool person wearing dark glasses
lacks the ‘‘articulation of data’’ (42) because the
glasses ‘‘create the inscrutable and inaccessible
image that invites a great deal of participation
and completion’’ (44). McLuhan could have made
identical points about the veil because the veil also
evokes an elusive semi-presence. However, is the
veil just as ‘‘cool’’ as sunglasses?
The face defines the person’s identity in a
private as well as in an official fashion (passports,
etc.). It is both an intimate and a legally responsible part of the body. The eyes are certainly the
most private and most ‘‘unofficial’’ part of the face
as they are closely connected to the brain and
thoughts become manifest more directly through
the eyes than through other facial features or body
movements. It is relatively easy to fake a smile
using the mouth and other facial muscles, but it is
difficult to entirely control the expression of the
eyes. Professional poker players wear the ‘‘poker
face’’ but in addition, they often wear dark glasses
because the eyes can unwillingly betray spontaneous reactions. Dark glasses intrigued Aldous
Huxley, whose popularization he could observe in
his youth:
This extraordinary notion that the organ of
light perception is unfitted to stand light
has become popular only in the last twenty
years or so. Before the war of 1914 it was,
I remember, the rarest thing to see anyone
wearing dark glasses. ( . . .) As a small boy,
I would look at a be-goggled man or woman
with that mixture of awed sympathy and
rather macabre curiosity which children reserve for those afflicted with any kind of
unusual or disfiguring physical handicap.
Today, all that is changed. The wearing of
black spectacles has become not merely
common, but creditable. Just how creditable
is proved by the fact that the girls in bathing
suits, represented on the covers of fashion
magazines in summer time, invariably wear
goggles. Black glasses have ceased to be the
Veils and sunglasses
badge of the afflicted, and are now compatible with youth, smartness and sex appeal.
(Huxley 1974: 29)
Huxley traces this ‘‘fantastic craze for blacking
out the eyes’’ to weakness: ‘‘This addiction has its
origin in the fear of light.’’ Paul Virilio, in a
comment on Huxley, takes the problem from the
opposite end. He does not interpret the wearing
of dark glasses in terms of a weakness but rather
of ‘‘coolness’’ because, for him, the wearer of
dark glasses becomes stronger: ‘‘The wearer of dark
glasses knows that the protectorspropagators of
bodies and images are loaded weapons. He veils
therefore prudently his retina and particularly
the area of the macula (. . .). His fear of being
surprised by the sudden onset of the image, the
intense illumination of projectors ( . . .) is magnified when he finds himself in a place that is
naturally dark or crepuscular’’ (Virilio 2009: 60).
Robert Murphy, in an article from 1964 on
Tuareg culture, synthesizes both opinions when
interpreting the sunglass phenomenon as a
‘‘means of defense and withdrawal’’ which is
particularly popular ‘‘among West African emirs
and Near Eastern potentates ( . . .). They are
commonly used in Latin America, where, indoors
and out, heavily tinted glasses are the hallmark
of the prestigeful as well as those aspiring to status,
for they bestow the aloofness and distance that
has always been the prerogative of the high in
these lands’’ (Murphy 1964: 1272).
The wearer of dark glasses is protected against
light even at night (who has not been blinded by
a car flashing its high beam headlights in the
night?) as well as against the look of the other. The
other’s look into my eyes can be hypnotizing and
thus disabling and the protection through glasses
will make me more powerful. As a consequence,
the wearer of dark glasses is cool: no grimaces, no
frowns, and no signs of strain and tension even
when exposed to extreme light or hypnotic stares.
Though both sunglasses and veils present a
combination of presence and non-presence, creating the effect of mystification, in both cases the
mysteries are ‘‘resolved’’ in different ways. The
person wearing dark glasses reveals important
parts of her face though she obliges us to retain
any final judgment about these expressions because the gaze is missing. We have to content
ourselves with the ‘‘official’’ signal sent out by the
rest of the face but are unable to look ‘‘behind’’ it
in order to interpret the face in the light of the
more ‘‘real’’ intentions signalled by the eyes. The
face remains ‘‘cool’’ in McLuhan’s sense because
the meaning can never be construed.
The veil, too, incontestably does construct a
mystery. It is not without reason that it has been a
main symbol of the ‘‘inscrutability of the East’’
(Secor 2002: 7) for centuries and not only for
women. Murphy (1964) finds that also the face
veil of Tuareg men ‘‘promote[s] this atmosphere
of mystery and apartness and the Tuareg, whether
in town or in his native desert, has often been
remarked upon for his penchant for appearing the
master of all he surveys’’ (1266). However, the
mystery created by the veil is different from that
created by sunglasses. The face of the woman who
is wearing the face veil is like being put on a
psychological operation table exposing only the
most important parts of her psyche, which remain
analysable, hypnotisable, and vulnerable. The eyes
give us access to ‘‘hot’’ information because, as
long as we see the eyes, we can decipher her state
of mind (is she afraid, shy, defiant, etc.).
It is true that the protection and hiding of
the mouth does have equally strong symbolic
connotations. Murphy (1964) points to Freudian
literature, which ‘‘gives extensive documentation
to the female symbolism of the mouth, its vulnerability to penetration, and to the unconscious
association between the eyes and the male generative powers’’ (1272). However, in no way is this
kind of covering related to the grammar of coolness. The plugging of bodily orifices for fear of
penetration is not an expression of coolness, while
the hiding of information as well as the disruption of one’s own stare definitely is. Therefore
the ‘‘hot’’ exposure of the woman’s eyes does not
permit the expression of real coolness. Above that,
while the woman can communicate emotions
relatively directly through the eyes, she is given
no chance to formulate her message ‘‘officially’’
through other facial expressions. All this contradicts the concept of the veil as a vehicle of coolness.
Apart from the prevention of potential penetration, the covering of the mouth has other
important symbolical (and practical) consequences. In conversations, the mouth is the main
communicator and to see a person’s mouth while
speaking can be crucial especially when there is
background noise or when the person speaks the
language poorly. The ‘‘mystery’’ of the face veil
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T. Botz-Bornstein
is in the hiding of the official information that
is supposed to complement the intimate one.
This explains why the veil has so often been
evoked in the context of erotic intentions because
here the intimate message is sent out without
being complemented by any official confirmation.
Attractive eyes invite the gaze to further scrutiny.
A general but relatively profound attraction is
effectuated first, which will then create the desire
to discover the rest of the face.
The perceptual mechanics of dark glasses works
the other way. Here the official part of the face is
freely exposed but it loses a part of its attractiveness because the deeper or ‘‘real’’ meaning of the
features cannot be fully construed and, in many
cases, is not supposed to be construed at all.
The result is mystery but not primary eroticism.
I am not saying that the (male or female) wearer of
sunglasses cannot be erotic, but s/he will not
be erotic because she is wearing sunglasses. The
sunglasses themselves are not erotic because they
divert the gaze instead of encouraging it to further
scrutiny. This is the reason why they are cool and
particularly much cooler than the veil. Sunglasses
create a diffuse sort of interest and occasionally
they arouse the feeling of being intrigued; but they
do not attract.
The veiled glance, on the other hand, is active
in a very straightforward fashion. The cool glance
is neither active nor passive but, according to
Pountain and Robins (2000), it is ‘‘rather detached
it expresses an indifference that challenges the
other to attempt to attract its interest’’ (116). This
pattern explains also why sunglasses worn together
with a face-covering veil do not have the same
effect of coolness that is usually attached to
sunglasses. What is needed in order to be cool is
the interplay of official messages with more or less
construable unofficial messages.
Sunglasses worn by women cannot have strong
erotic connotations because in this case, the male
gaze will not be supported by desire. It can never
become subjective, but will keep hovering between objective and subjective expressions. Saudi
Arabian clerics showed remarkable insight when
claiming in 2011 their right to cover women’s
‘‘tempting eyes’’ (Keyes 2011) though, most
likely, this covering will not happen through the
use of sunglasses. Given the particular economics
of desire linked to the veil, the generalized wearing
of sunglasses would definitely make Saudi women
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look cooler. Interestingly, there is no Islamic
veil covering only the eyes.
It can be concluded that the veil covering everything but the eyes is not cool. By hiding in an
apparently ‘‘cool’’ way official facial expressions,
the resulting play with desire and attraction makes
the veil rather hot in the McLuhanian sense
because the eyes are the ‘‘hottest’’ component of
the face and any vestimentary aesthetics limiting
facial expressions to this hot part cannot be
considered cool.
The eroticism of veiling works along the lines
of the Lacanian scheme of the paradox of desire
as it has been explained by Slavoj Žižek. The
perception of the veiled object is ‘‘supported,
permeated, and distorted by desire’’ or it is
even ‘‘posited by desire itself’’ (Žižek 1992: 12).
Desire is sparked when something (its objectcause) embodies or gives positive existence to
its nothing*that is, to its void. What does the
desire want? It wants an official confirmation
that the desired object (the rest of the face)
‘‘really’’ exists and possibly desires us.
In some particular situations the observer might
decide not to reconstruct the rest of the face
and to make those items that are visible the final
focus of his fascination. Sometimes he might fear
that the discovery of the entire face will involve
a deception. The woman on Picture 2 attracts
because her ‘‘hot’’ eyes actively engage in seduction. Her expression of seduction is so much
emphasized that we do not necessarily feel the
desire to have our impression ‘‘officially’’ sanctioned by unveiling the rest of the face. We might
simply take her seductive look for granted.
The male wearing of the veil can follow the
same perceptual pattern. The Tuareg man might
Picture 2.
Veils and sunglasses
look cool on the Picture 3 but not because
interesting facial elements have been hidden in a
‘‘cool’’ fashion, but rather because the ‘‘hot’’
information sent out by his eyes suggests defiance
and aggressiveness. Again, we do not necessarily
desire to discover the rest of his face.
THE VEIL AS A FETISH
The pattern becomes very clear when the feminine
attraction is suppressed in a way that the subject
will definitely refuse to discover what is underneath the veil. Then the veil itself becomes ‘‘hot.’’
French nineteenth-century writer Gerard de
Nerval was convinced ‘‘that it is the veil itself and
not the woman concealed beneath it, that attracts’’
(Dobie 2001: 127), and Orientalist appreciations
of the veil have suggested that the woman is not
‘‘the interior that needs to be protected or penetrated. Her body is not simply inside of the
veil: it is of it; she is constituted in and by the
fabrication of the veil’’ (Sedira 2003: 70). When
the veil’s hotness is extreme it becomes a fetish.
This happens for example when the veil turns into
a clichéd symbol of negative perceptions of Islamic
culture as seen in the propaganda posters of the
Swiss right-wing anti-Muslim movement, which
combines a veiled woman with missiles and war
motives (Picture 4). It is certainly no coincidence
that hoods and balaclavas are also worn by
extremely uncool (hot) terrorists.
The fetish character of the veil is particularly
plausible in the light of classical literature on
fetishisation. Here we are expanding our considerations that have, so far, been limited to the face
veil and the consequences of difference ways of
face covering. In this section on fetishism, the
Picture 3.
Picture 4. Swiss poster propagating the ban of minarets.
veil, which covers only the head but leaves the
face visible, will be taken into consideration,
too. Fetishism plays a crucial role in Freudian
psychoanalysis where the fetish represents a substitute of phallus, of which the woman lacks. It is
discovered by the boy who begins desiring it
and finally depends on it for sexual satisfaction.
Jean Baudrillard, influenced by Freud as well as
by Marx’ theories of commodity fetishism, concentrates on fetishism in order to analyse the
subjective sentiments of the consumer towards
consumer products. Baudrillard shows that the
cultural mystique surrounding a product creates
not only illusions about the product’s virtues,
but can even develop a life of its own.
For Freud, as for Baudrillard (1993), fetishism
is mainly a male penchant and for Baudrillard
it is related to the transformation of the female
body into a phallus whose main characteristics is
to be smooth and blank: ‘‘The naked thigh and,
metonymically, the entire body has become a
phallic effigy by means of this caesura, a fetishistic
object to be contemplated and manipulated,
deprived of all its menace’’ (102). Baudrillard
believes that ‘‘eroticization always consists in the
erectility of a fragment of the barred body’’ (ibid.).
Apart from the phallus, the other most classical
fetish is the doll. Anthropologist Max von Boehn
writes in his Dolls and Puppets (1937) that ‘‘the
doll, among ancient and among modern peoples,
plays an important part in magical practice.’’ For
von Boehn (1937), ‘‘almost anything can become
a fetish, but generally human forms are preferred’’
(12). Combining both, for Baudrillard, the
process of fetishisation turns the woman into a
phallic doll in the sense of a smooth and blank
effigy on which male desire can be projected.
Having been deprived of all her menace, she has
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T. Botz-Bornstein
become an object that can be contemplated and
manipulated. Having become a doll-like empty
screen, the woman is ready to function as the
recipient of male desire.
Can the veiling of women pursue this function
or does it instead prevent this kind of fetishisation?
First, there is a strong parallel between veiling
and fetishisation as pointed out by Sarah Kofman:
‘‘The reasons women would have for veiling themselves and for wanting to be enigmatic would all
link up with man’s need for a certain fetishism, in
which woman, her interests being at stake, would
become an accomplice’’ (1980: 59/1985: 4). The
surface of the fetish-woman is smooth and nothing
is supposed to disrupt the creation of male desire
that is sparked when looking at a blank body
screen. Through veiling, a woman’s body can
indeed be cast as ‘‘virtually uninhabited, a
shell of skin desiring only to be desirable, to be
raped, to have permanent beauty mysteriously
drawn upon it’’ (Braunberger 2000: 5). Christine
Braunberger’s quotation is drawn from a discussion not of the veil but of female tattoos that
are supposed to disrupt the male perception of
the female body and thus to prevent the process of
fetishisation. According to Braunberger’s logic,
the skin of the fetish-woman is blank and the
tattoos applied by the woman on her blank skin
disrupt her smoothness. Also tattoo specialist
Margot DeMello (2000) writes that tattooed
female skin ‘‘control[s] and subvert[s] the everpresent ‘‘male gaze’’ by forcing men (. . .) to look
at their bodies in a manner that exerts control’’
(173).
Is the veil a fetish reinstating the woman as a
blank female screen or does it rather function like
a tattoo, actively subverting the male projection
of desires and thus protecting the woman from
fetishisation? Comparing veil and tattoos might
appear as inappropriate because of their respective phenomenological and ontological conditions.
The veil can be taken off while the tattoo stays.
The veil might be a fetish, but it always has an
‘‘underneath’’ (the woman) who cannot be fully
identified with the veil. Still veiling and tattooing
develop similar fetish languages as they work
with the elements of desire, smoothness, and the
control of the male gaze. Of course, everything
depends on if the woman has chosen to apply the
tattoo herself or if she has been tattooed by a man.
When a man tattoos a woman (a subject dealt with
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in several films)3 he will turn her into a desiring
subject whose focus he can control. Even when
the tattoo stimulates the desire of other men who
read the tattoo as the erotic projection of another
male, the tattooing male will still exercise control
over their desires related to ‘‘his’’ tattoo. Everything changes when the woman decides to be
tattooed on her own. Then the male loss of control
over the inscriptions of his woman’s skin can equal
impotence. First, the man can no longer project
his desires on the female skin and second, he will
have to accept that other men will be attracted by
the tattoo and use it for the projection of their
own desires. The loss of control prevents the
fetishisation of the woman.4
Does veiling disrupt the process of female
fetishisation in a similar fashion? Or does the veil
rather work in the service of fetishisation? Like
in the case of tattoos, there is a big difference
between a man forcing a woman to wear a veil and
a woman who decides to do so on her own, though
in the latter case she might still have given in to
self-fetishisation. As Baudrillard writes, women
can either be turned into fetishes or they can
decide to ‘‘perform this labor of continual fetishization on themselves’’ (1993: 102). When the
woman choses to fetishize herself, she will do so
by choosing a form that remains appealing to the
male. A man putting a veil over a woman is able
to control her desires. However, it is impossible to
imagine a man becoming impotent because he is
confronted with a veil. The woman who decides to
get a tattoo, on the other hand, clearly disrupts
the process of her own phallicisation because she
destroys her skin’s blank surface. Contrary to
tattoos (which are practically never applied to
penises) the veil emphasizes smoothness and
combines a phallic shape with doll-like attributes.
The difference between veils and sunglasses
becomes clearest right here. The mystery created
by sunglasses disrupts fetishisation in a much
more unequivocal way than the veil because it
does not re-enact the person in the form of a
blank screen. The libidinal economy of sunglasses
comes thus closer to that of tattoos. In the case of
sunglasses, there is no direct path leading from
the glasses to the control of the wearer’s desire,
while with regard to veiling, such a path exists. Of
course, also sunglasses and tattoos can become
objects of fetishisation, but compared to the veil
they are much more unlikely to become fetishes.
Veils and sunglasses
CONCLUSION: CONCEALING,
CROPPING, CUTTING
It has been shown that sunglasses are ‘‘cooler’’
than veils for mainly two reasons: first, the covering of the eyes mystifies the person in a ‘‘cooler’’
way than does the covering of the mouth. Second,
the covering of the eyes is not prone to fetishisation while veils (and this concerns also those
which leave the face uncovered) can easily become
fetishes. Some might still argue that the veil can
appear as cool because it suppresses information
about the face in a way similar to the technique of
cropping (frequently used on Facebook profile
pages). It is cool because it makes the person’s
face appear mysterious. However, first, the cool
cropping effect has been designed for the alteration of immutable pictures and not of faces in real
life. In pictures, the look appears to be more stable
and much more inscrutable than in real life to the
point that the frozen photo face can function as a
cool mask in itself. The reductive cropping of
portraits draws attention to the eyes and makes
the appearance of the face more mysterious; but
it becomes so only as a picture. We remember
Roland Barthes’ desperate attempts at searching
the look of Japanese General Nogi, victor over the
Russians at Port Arthur, and his wife for signs
testifying to the anticipation of their imminent
death. The photos had been taken right before
their suicide which they chose because their
emperor had died. However, there is no sign of
anger, ‘‘no adjective is possible, the predicate
is dismissed, not by the exemption of Death’s
meaning’’ (Barthes: 94). As they are posing for
the photo their pose becomes a cool pose. The
conclusion is: a cropped (or veiled) face in real
life is not necessarily as cool and mysterious as a
cropped face on a photo.
Simultaneously, it must be admitted that cropping techniques, when integrated into the practice
of veiling, have the highest potential of producing
an effect of ‘‘cool veiling’’ simply because here
the veil is allowed to overcome the logic of mere
concealing. By its very nature, cropping follows
the logic of cutting much more than that of
concealing. Cutting as an act of stylization, that
is, as a gesture able to transform any subject into
an aesthetic subject, has been very much analysed
in the context of Japanese aesthetics and is known
as the aesthetics device of kire (ߛȡ), which means
‘‘cut’’ in Japanese. In a haiku for example, a line
will be cut at a certain point and the stylistic cut
invites us to anticipate what ‘‘exists’’ beyond the
cut. The purpose of the cut is thus not to hide a
part of the verse, but rather to produce a new
‘‘virtual’’ verse. In this sense the kire technique
comes close to cropping. In certain ways it comes
close to Derrida’s (1987) concept of the frame as a
site of meaning, which sees all art as ‘‘inside’’ a
frame simply because it is distinguished from all
outside matter and events. The frame highlights,
stylizes and gives symbolical power to the object
simply by applying the device of spatial limitation.
It also comes close to what has been rendered in
the West most generally as ‘‘stylization.’’ In this
context it has been said that the result of kire is
that of the sublime style called ‘‘iki,’’ which has
fascinated several Western thinkers including
Heidegger.5 What is ‘‘cut off’’ through kire is the
‘‘everyday context’’ of an item or a situation,
which produces a new and more interesting
aesthetic situation. The ‘‘cut off’’ part continues
to ‘‘exist’’ but it appears in the form of more
stylized and sublime instances.
Sunglasses follow the logic of cutting much
more than that of hiding, especially if we think of
the unconscious association between the eyes
and the male generative powers that have been
pointed out by Murphy. This is a further reason
why sunglasses are cooler than the veil, which is
merely concealing. Like in the case of kire, tattoos
and sunglasses attempt to disrupt the gaze by
disturbing existent structures; they do not merely
hide the body’s surface, but involve parts of the
body in a playful act of stylization.
However, it is not entirely impossible to push
also the veil towards such mechanisms of cutting
and cropping, though, in general, this remains a
difficult undertaking given the religious dogma
clinging to the veil as an item whose primary
purpose is to protect the woman by hiding parts of
her body. But some examples do exist. The way
many Iranian women wear the veil at present
involves an act of stylization that does not seem to
be limited to mere concealing. Also the Indian sari
attracts because, in the words of Roxanne Gupta
(2008), ‘‘it is a veil that covers but does not hide’’
(62). Finally, one can look at the headscarf worn
by Western women such as Katherine Hepburn,
Jackie Onassis, Brigitte Bardot, Sophia Loren
and Grace Kelly in the 1960s (Pictures 5 and 6).
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T. Botz-Bornstein
Picture 5. Jackie Onassis with veil.
This headscarf relies more on stylization than
on hiding; it does not establish a rigid separation
between the wearer and the spectator, but functions rather like an accessory similar to jewellery,
purses, or sunglasses.
The same is true*though to a lesser extent*in
contemporary Muslim ‘‘veiling fashion,’’ which
attempts to re-enact the veil in a modern context
through fashionable devices. It is true that in most
Muslim countries veiled women no longer look
like nuns before Vatican II. The new appropriation of the veil manages to deconstruct the rigid
form of the veil to some extent, especially in
Turkey, whose so-called tesettür (veiling fashion) is
the pet-subject of academic researchers. However,
the creative input should not be overestimated. In
principle, the veil as a religious symbol is incompatible with fashion because fashion is playful by
definition. Playing or being playful means to be
submitted to the constraints of the game but to
be also able to step out of the game (to take off
the veil) at any moment. Otherwise it’s not a game
but work. Anthropological and philosophical
definition of games from Huizinga to Mary
Picture 6. Grace Kelly with veil.
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Midgley highlights this voluntary and liberal
stance as one of the fundamentals of the definition
of games. ‘‘Play’’ in a fashion context cannot
pursue, as Sandikci and Ger say about teserttür
women, a matter of entirely ‘‘asexual femininity’’
freed ‘‘from the predatory gaze’’ (2010: 40). This
is the reason why the Muslim veil will always
remain ‘‘more’’ than merely a fashion article: it
will never be merely playful; and this is a problem
when it comes to questions about its potential
coolness. For ‘‘Perihan Mataraci and Serap
Cebeci, two covered designers, tesettür fashion
has been under the dominance of male businessmen who dress women according to their own
understanding of religiously appropriate dress’’
(Olgun 2005, quoted from Sandikci and Ger
2007: 206). According to the same author,
‘‘most of the brand-name tesettür companies
market clothes that are devoid of elegance, beauty,
and aesthetics and force women to dress in a
tasteless and uninspiring way’’ (ibid.). Rajaa
Alsanea (2007), Saudi author of the popular novel
Girls of Riyadh, should be taken seriously when
making her protagonist Michelle express ‘‘how
hideous hijab-wearing women usually looked and
how the hijab restricted a girl from being fashionable because it also required covering her arms
with long sleeves and her legs with long pants or
skirts’’ (244). Religion is simply too serious and
‘‘uncool’’ to be involved in the game of fashion.
A way out of this dilemma is to transform religion
into culture or to see religion as culture, but this is
a subject that would transcend the scope of this
essay.
The headscarf worn by Western women such
as Katherine Hepburn has added value to the
overall appearance of the woman. The reason is
that like tattoos and sunglasses, this veil disrupts
the gaze by weaving it into an aesthetic game that
the wearer engages in to explore diverse stylistic
possibilities. Being coordinated with the rest of
the clothes, it helps create a stylistic unity that can
be read in multiple ways, including that of lightness, sport or cuteness. Most probably it will not
lead to one-dimensional readings of the veiled
woman in terms of a mere fetish.
The hijab bo tafkha (‘‘puffy hijab’’) (Pictures 7
and 8) is another example of how the veil can be
used as a restructuring device by ‘‘cutting’’ or restylizing fixed and traditional structures. It is
created with the help of a hairclip to which are
Veils and sunglasses
Picture 7. Hijab bo tafkha (‘‘puffy hijab’’).
Picture 8. Hijab bo tafkha (‘‘puffy hijab’’).
attached one or two decorative flowers worn
underneath the hijab which yields the impression
of having a huge amount of hair. Gökariksel and
Secor call it the ‘‘bonnet,’’ which enables women
‘‘to play with the shape of the veiled head, thus
giving rise to the controversial faux bun. To give
the veiled head an elongated shape, some women
stuff their bonnets with another scarf or other
padding. The effect is that of a large bun of hair
Picture 10.
piled on the back of the head under the scarf’’
(Gökariksel and Secor 2012: 854).
The hijab worn in the traditional way by many
women today in Middle Eastern countries, on the
other hand, does not imply an act of stylization
but is often limited to mere hiding (Picture 9).
Here, the veil often deforms instead of adding value
to the overall stylistic appearance. The strict
adherence to tradition does not permit the playful
attitude necessary for the creation of a personal
style found through the veil. Because important
parts are simply hidden, the woman’s face often
adopts a rigid, artificial, waxy or empty expression
(Picture 10). The sculpture-like appearance can
easily become sinister. Other ways of applying the
veil in a more stylistic way as a means of cool
disruption should be explored.
Notes
1.
2.
3.
Picture 9. Abaya and hijab are well coordinated and create
a coherent stylistic appearance.
Though I attempt in this article to cancel the
ideological weight clinging to the term ‘‘veil’’ and
to examine the phenomenon in purely aesthetic and
phenomenological terms, I decided not to reject
the term veil altogether and to replace it with the
word ‘‘headscarf’’ or ‘‘covering’’ (though these
terms would certainly be more appropriate in the
Turkish context that will be evoked). The reason is
that the metaphorical power of the word ‘‘veil’’ is
essential to the present argument.
The aesthetics of cool developed mainly in the form
of a behavioural attitude practiced by black men
in the United States at the time of slavery and
residential segregation. A cool attitude helped slaves
and former slaves to cope with exploitation or
simply made it possible to walk streets at night.
The residential segregation of white and black
Americans brought forward behavioral mechanisms
similar to veiling.
For example: Tattoo (1981) dir. Bob Brooks; The
Tattooed Woman [Irezumi] (1981) dir. Yoichi
Takabayashi; Eastern Promises (2007) dir. David
Cronenberg.
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T. Botz-Bornstein
4.
5.
I have adopted the thoughts presented in the
preceding three paragraphs from my article entitled
‘From the Stigmatized Tattoo to the Graffitied
Body: Femininity in the Tattoo Renaissance’ in
Gender, Place and Culture: A Journal of Feminist
Geography 2012, 117.
Shuzo Kuki’s book The Structure of Iki has become
famous beyond the community of Japanologists.
See also Ohashi (1992) and Botz-Bornstein (1997).
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