A tipster with an enviable magazine collection pointed us to this spread, which is still viewable on the American photographer's website. (It's collected with his 2005 editorial work for the magazine.)

In addition to often exploring themes of sexual violence and power in his work, Klein has a certain habit of changing models' skin tones with makeup. In September, 2008, American Vogue printed an editorial that featured the white Brazilian model Caroline Trentini painted the color of burnt Cheetos; earlier this year, in some work for Vogue Paris, Klein had Dutch model Lara Stone posed with male models who were made up alternately in a deep tan, presumably to contrast with her very fair skin, or in matte yellow and red. This month, of course, it is Stone whom Klein photographed in blackface.

Racialicious ran a persuasive post earlier this week that argued that these kinds of images, where white women are made to appear black, actually further white privilege:

"[W]hat is on display in French Vogue...is not beautiful black bodies, but what Nirmal Puwar describes as 'the universal empty point' that white female bodies are able to occupy precisely because their bodies are racially unmarked."

Because as long as white remains the "default" race — the ethnicity that isn't — temporarily portraying them as black doesn't prove we live in a post-racial society: it just demonstrates that white people are permitted to play with racial categories in ways that people of color are generally not.

Also, there remains the issue of real black models, and the continued discrimination they face. Jourdan Dunn recently told Teen Vogue about being turned away from a casting at the last minute because the client had simply opted not to use any black models that season; although since we started counting models of color at New York Fashion Week, the level of overall diversity has improved, it is still very much a concern. The issue of Vogue Paris that featured Klein's blackface editorial with Stone, the so-called "Supermodels" issue, had no models of color.

This issue of Italian Vogue also had zero models of color in its editorial pages. None.

The fashion world's myopia when it comes to diversity — which is the underlying problem here — is also clouding some people's reactions to the Vogue Paris spread.

"I have a hard time reading 'race' into this," says a puzzled Teri Agins, the Wall Street Journal's veteran fashion reporter.

Elizabeth Gates, in an insightful essay, compares the Paris Vogue spread to "a modern minstrel show," but says, as a black woman working in fashion, she is utterly unsurprised by Steven Klein's photography and Carine Roitfeld's editorial choices: "I would be fooling myself if I thought the draftsmen behind fashion's most beautiful things were ever going to be sensitive to race, black women, or how they represent our cultural history. In fact, I'm not exactly sure why this was a shock to anyone." Elle's Anne Slowey admits, "It's an industry filled with people who have no idea about history and politics."

Maybe it's time to start learning.

Steven Klein [Official Website]
Blackface And The Violence Of Revulsion [Racialicious]
Back To Blackface [Daily Beast]
Duh! Of Course Fashion's Racist [Daily Beast]

Earlier: Oh No They Didn't: French Vogue Does Blackface
Self-Reflection: A Bizarre, Macabre Short Story Brought to You By Vogue
February French Vogue: Steven Klein Model Zombies & NSFW Nan Goldin
Fashion Week Runways Were Almost A Total Whitewash
How Did New York Fashion Week's 116 Shows Treat Models Of Color?

The images, shot by Brett Lloyd and styled by Nicola Formichetti, feature only underwear by one particular clothing brand, which apparently led Blackbook to refer to the shots as an "ad campaign." (It's not clear what involvement with or oversight of the pictures that the brand had. PonyStep is run by Richard Mortimer, a British hairdresser-turned-party promoter and club owner.)

Whether editorial, campaign or something in between, what is clear is that this is some hardcore imagery. Called "CK Teen Screengrabs," viewing Lloyd and Formichetti's shoot gives the impression of looking over the photographer's shoulder as he edits his day's take. Only this photographer has titled his JPGs things like "XXXWHEN_DO_I_GET_PAIDXXX" and "XXXTOO_HOTXXX" and "CKS_GOING_DOWN."

The models, Luke Stevens, Josh Blount, James Cooper, Pete Bolton, and Michael Walsh, are all over 18. (Though Blount is only barely so.) Still, seeing men who look to be barely more than boys in subjugated, vulnerable poses, with titles that comment on their sexual availability, is a little disturbing.

Homoeroticism in fashion photography is nothing new. And nor is sexist imagery. It's impossible to look at a shoot like this without wondering if the intent is to prompt the viewer into reconsidering sex stereotypes, or to parody the shock-and-titillate M.O. of so many brands, or to bring the homoeroticism that simmers behind iconic pictures of men into sharper relief.

But I have to wonder, if a woman were shown in her underwear, huddled in a corner with her arms behind her back, her crotch thrust towards the camera lens, and the words "Fuck Me" written on her thighs, would there not be something of an outcry, at least from certain observers? (I don't think many people would call it "fun.") How do we feel about it when it's a young man?

I wonder what went on at this shoot. The credited makeup artist is a woman, so she probably wrote the various phrases (and the occasional phone number) on these guys' bodies. One of Formichetti's two assistants was also a woman; everyone else on set was male. I'm hesitant to speculate as to these models' sexual orientations, or the work atmosphere on the set — sometimes the filthiest, most charged imagery can arise from totally antiseptic professional situations. And there is room for ambiguity in these images. But I've known male models who've complained about stylists who wouldn't give me a second look finding excuses to perv at them while they change, or touchy-feely makeup artists; the fact that male models are, at every level of the industry, less well-paid and more exchangeably anonymous than their female counterparts, mustn't leave one feeling empowered to speak up about any sexual harassment one might encounter.

I'm reminded of a scene in a 1980 Frederick Wiseman documentary about the industry, called Model, where a gay photographer interacts with a male model. You can't quite tell if the photographer is actually hitting on the model, or just being friendly, and you also can't tell if the model's slightly cagey responses are the result of the fact that he's working, and therefore can't converse freely even as the photographer peppers him with banter, or whether it's because he's straight and trying to avoid being seen as somehow leading the photographer on. Nobody's rude, exactly, but the gender politics of it all is very complex in ways that make you occasionally suck in your breath — the photographer leans in at one point to push the model's hair out of his face, and the model stiffens at this near-caress — and it's suffused with this incredible discomfort.

And regardless of the power dynamics on the set, which are only speculation, anyway, the power dynamics as they are shown in the pictures are troubling. What does it mean to be objectified, anyway? Is this equality? Is this sexy? Tongue-in-cheek? Offensive? All I know is the whole thing makes me very uncomfortable. But then, I do believe fashion photography can be an art form, and I would never argue that the purpose of art is to make anyone comfortable.

Related: CK TEEN SCREENGRABS [PonyStep]
Sex Continues To Sell At CK Teen [Blackbook]