Masami Teraoka 寺岡 政美
b. 1936 in Onomichi, Japan; works and lives in the US
Condom Pillow Book, from the AIDS Series, 1987
Lift-ground etching, aquatint, and soft-ground
counterproof chine collé on kitakata paper
Image: 17.6 x 11.3 cm. (6 15/16 x 4 7/16 in.)
Gift of Evelyn Lincoln 2021.18.2.2
© Masami Teraoka

Joey Terrill

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AIDS Series—one work but multiple views—a double take, twenty-six years apart and both versions by me.

These prints evoke Japanese woodblock traditions that began in the seventeenth century. It’s a trope Teraoka has used since the 1970s to provide a wry commentary on the clash of Eastern and Western values, poking fun at both American consumerism and its disruption of Japanese traditions. But this work from 1987 takes that same stylized ukiyo-e tradition in a very different direction. Here, the pathos of the geisha’s story plays out in front of us, pulling at our emotions. No humor. Upon seeing the geisha’s vacant eyes warily regarding her suitors, I found myself sharing her unspoken anxiety in trying to forestall the inevitable, as it’s too late for a condom. In ’89 I was thirty-four years old and had just tested positive for HIV. The prognosis at that time was I had about a year to go before developing AIDS. It was hard to fathom any future.

The geisha was going to die, and so was I. Unopened condom packages are strewn about her as she drapes herself over the balcony, her suitor’s fingers exploring her. (I wondered if she had been tested.) Her stare is distant, indicating to me that she was seeing her own mortality, anticipating the physical withering away that comes with end-stage AIDS. Those bony fingers of her client on the right side of Condom Pillow Book would one day soon become her own. I had seen this happen to beautiful loved ones around me. Her physical deterioration will stand in sharp contrast to the elements of natural beauty found in the “floating world” illustrations of ukiyo-e. I’ve seen that contrast in my own world. Her natural beauty will be gone. The dexterity required for her calligraphy and playing the shamisen—gone! Her gifts for conversation, dancing, and reciting poetry—gone! Falling victim to neurological deficits related to any number of opportunistic infections, her ability to make art—gone! In those spare wisps of ink that define her eyes, I saw all of that.

With this work, Teraoka removes the scourge of AIDS as centered in the gay male community (my world) and places it in an Eastern cultural art tradition free from Western / Judeo-Christian roots. I was a Westerner observing a geisha and I saw my internal self reflected. Looking at her filled me with sadness.

The 2015 exhibit Art AIDS America included a painting from this same series—Tale of 1000 Condoms / Geisha and Skeleton. Like visiting an old friend, I smiled upon seeing a familiar image that hadn’t changed. I had changed. Living with HIV for thirty-five years, surviving clinical trials, side effects, and politics, making art while simultaneously grieving for those who died, I was now “undetectable.” I was no longer the geisha. For me, she symbolized the millions of girls and women globally who have succumbed—and continue to succumb—to AIDS.

For me, engaging with this sublime work of art in such a deeply personal way is a priceless gift.