The Naked Truth

By Theresa Rézeau

Why does a painting of a nude still provoke discomfort in a gallery, while hyper-sexualised bodies on billboards or in music videos barely earn a second glance? Nude art is one of the oldest, most powerful traditions in human creativity and  yet, society continues to treat it with suspicion, shame or unease. This contradiction reveals much about how we view the body, morality, and ourselves. At its core, the stigma around nude art isn’t just about what’s shown, it’s about what it exposes within us.

From prehistoric fertility figures to the idealised gods and athletes of ancient Greece and Rome, the human body has long been celebrated in art. The Renaissance revived this celebration, using nudity to express divine beauty and human potential. But in the modern era, artists like Amedeo Modigliani began challenging these classical ideals. His nudes were not presented as flawless, distant icons, they were intimate, grounded  and deeply human. In 1917, Modigliani held his first and only solo exhibition in Paris, which was shut down by police on its opening day due to the “indecency” of his paintings. What disturbed the public wasn’t just the nudity, it was the gaze. Modigliani’s nudes look directly at the viewer. They are not ashamed. They do not flatter. They confront, and that confrontation unsettles a culture that still expects the naked body to be passive, hidden, or idealised..

So why, even today are we still uncomfortable with nude art? One reason lies in religious and cultural conditioning. In many societies, especially those influenced by conservative Judea-Christian or Islamic values, the body is considered private, even shameful. Nudity is associated with sin or immorality, which makes its appearance in art inherently provocative. Another reason is the ongoing confusion between nudity and sexuality. While nude art can be sensual, it is not inherently erotic but public perception often reduces it to just that. Without context many viewers struggle to separate the artistic nude from pornography, especially when the figure isn’t stylised or idealised. This discomfort is compounded by media double standards: a Modigliani nude may be labeled indecent, yet society comfortably consumes hyper-sexualised imagery in advertising and entertainment, as long as it’s commercialised or objectified.

Modigliani’s work is powerful precisely because it does not cater to these expectations. His nudes are often elongated, imperfect  and raw. They challenge traditional beauty standards and demand presence. They make the viewer aware of their own gaze. That’s what makes them revolutionary. The discomfort they stir often has more to do with the viewer than the subject.They reveal our internalised shame, our rigid definitions of modesty and our unresolved relationship with our own bodies.

Today, many contemporary artists continue the work Modigliani began. They reclaim the nude as a form of empowerment, using it to challenge societal norms, explore identity and resist censorship. In an era dominated by filters, body dysmorphia, and curated perfection, nude art remains one of the few spaces where the body can simply exist. Real, flawed and unapologetic.

Modigliani once said, “What I look for is not the reality and not the unreal but the unconscious, the mystery of the instinctive in the human race.” Nude art, at its best reveals just that. It strips away the layers we hide behind and confronts us with something deeply human. And perhaps that’s why it still unsettles: because it asks us to stop hiding, to look inward and to see the body not as something shameful, but as something profoundly truthful.