D.H. Lawrence once ventured that the English could not paint because they were afraid of the pox.¹ What he meant, of course, was that they were afraid of sex, as this was the main way of getting the cursed pox in his day, and that only this secret ingredient - a sexy, dirty, fearless quality - could enable true painting.

I cannot help but start with this damning decree when face-to-face with the paintings of Gillian Carnegie, born in Suffolk, educated in London, as English as they come. Carnegie is not only one of the most skilful painters of her generation, but also someone who presents a body of work that begs to be looked at in relation to what Lawrence euphemised as 'the pox'. Times have obviously changed; I will dispense with the euphemism when considering her practice specifically and the life of contemporary imagery in general in the context of that ever-present and ever-expanding phenomenon of visual culture: porn.

In her essay (and apology for) 'The Pornographic Imagination', Susan Sontag acknowledged at least three types of pornography, one being 'a minor but interesting modality or convention within the arts'.² Forty years later, an update or reconsideration of the pornographic imaginary is in order. Today, we are immersed in a culture where (what once passed for) pornography has become the dominant form of imagery exchanged in western culture. It is definitely the most common type of imagery available on the Internet - its primary source of proliferation. But porn also colours much of advertising, reality TV and the news - consider American Apparel advertising, every magazine spread shot by