new-york

Allen Jones

Richard Feigen Gallery

For the most part the works in Allen Jones’s show consist of monstrously dead effigies representing a highly specialized fantasy female—the svelte, cone-breasted, impersonal dominator of the male. Dressed in skin-tight rubber or leather garments which set off her breasts and buttocks and exaggerate the length of her legs (enslippered in shoes with the glossiest, spikiest heels and tied with milli-lacetted boots), the Dominatrix demands total subjugation and slavishness from the male or possibly from another female votary. Since we all have read the personal advertisements in the underground press and perused the Punishment and Bondage sections of our neighborhood sex shops, the kind of imagery which Jones is at pains to make ever more perfect and explicit strikes me merely as drearily banal.

But the artist forthrightly acknowledges this in the expensive catalog which accompanies the

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