American artist John Currin paints in a similar way to somebody like Cranach with a kind of rich luminosity that can only come from the technically outstanding. But Currin's works are not everybody's cup of tea: after his early images of busty blondes and his satirical depictions of aging society queens, Currin recently turned his attention to the world of pornography.
Looking at one of these recent works is like looking at some some Ingres masterpiece, but then, oh look, that chap has got his cock out. His work is very graphic and very beautiful, but what is it trying to say? That contemporary society has lost the innocence of the Renaissance? That porn can be beautiful too? Whether Currin aims for homage or satire is hard to say, and this ambivalence is a big part of the fascination.