These "Tinder Gods" Sport Multiple Penises and Hairy Chests

Delhi artist Tarini Sethi, 28, gained instant recognition for her drawings and wire sculptures, mostly of nude bodies. She created a conversation around her collaborative series “Enemy- Friend-Lover”, in which she drew portraits from naked photos sent to her by friends. For one of her recent projects, Sethi sketched quick caricatures of Indian men inspired by their online dating profiles. We spoke to her about porn, parody, and how she right-swiped her way into the Tinder Gods series.

VICE: How did Tinder Gods come about?
Tarini Sethi: Unsurprisingly, Tinder Gods happened when I was whiling time on a Whatsapp group with my female friends. Like most of my other projects, it began mostly as an attempt to entertain myself. It’s just messing about. I think of a fun idea, I start doing it, showing it to some friends, and sometimes it becomes larger—like Tinder Boys did. I slowly realised that dramatic portraits of men on Tinder could be a fun way to get everyone talking about online dating, but more importantly, the kind of things men saw as manly and powerful. Basically, why they thought they were gods.

Are these men gods?
No! Quite the opposite. Men in India are seen as all powerful creatures in a patriarchal society, it’s like they require and even get constant respect and admiration. All the men I’ve drawn, made them posing as gods—but with a beer glass like a weapon, seated on little lotuses, or with six penises as their supernatural aura. I want to bring them down from a pedestal they’re usually put on.

Have you ever dated online?
I’m 28 and single, so yes, but not much. Tinder Boys are not always my matches on Tinder, but a parody of the photos that men post. While some are specific men, sourced from my Tinder or those of friends, others are mixes of profiles. They are characters, exaggerations, interpretations, all based on men we encounter online.

Which Tinder profiles inspire you most?
Well, I always used the best photos, the most interesting ones, with some sort of hilarity like birds flying around in the backdrop. I chose them because of the unapologetic portrayal of testosterone in these photos, personified in the weirdest things—like a funny pose or a dove on someone’s shoulder. Completely absurd stuff. My Tinder boys are kind of sweet too, there is nothing malicious or violent about them—they’re around to lighten the mood.

These men are looking to show what is, according to them, the best thing about themselves. Often, they are also in “romantic positions”. Some of my favourite Tinder boys are the really cheesy ones: with a wine glass in hand behind candles. The patriarchal norm of what a woman wants is evident in these Tinder profiles. They are at the same time kind, and degrading.

From really early on, I thought the body was a site in which a lot of social prejudices could be reflected. When I’m drawing a man with multiple penises or an extra-hairy chest, it’s as if to say, look at this extra macho energy flowing through this photograph, but also society in general. But it’s not eroticism or romanticism, it’s humour. It is where oppression lies, but also probably where liberation can happen. In my work, regarding women, I try to tell them, it’s yours, own it. And with men, I try to say—hey, you’re cool, but don’t get carried away.

The cool thing about dating apps is that they somehow—well, relatively to real life in India—brings men and women onto the same level. I’ve had some awful experiences on dating apps, but even then, the idea that you are in charge of deciding about another person is fruitful. The female gaze is being able to de-mystify men.

Have you ever faced censorship of your work?
Surprisingly, no. Often, quite the opposite. Initially there was some skepticism. No one wanted to show my work; they thought, why would someone buy portraits of men with funny bodies? Curators were afraid of the fact that the body parts looming in my work would inspire some sort of apprehension among viewers. But eventually, conversation started around them. People began to see the humour in these portraits, and look at it in an artistic way, as a way of expression.

At my show at the India International Centre, everyone was above 60 years old. People that worked at the IIC would come by, and I would tell them about online dating. The good thing about the Tinder boys is that they are quite small in size, they aren’t intimidating, or severely crass.

It cracks me up when uncles want to buy many Tinder boys. It’s like watching them at a clothes rack in the mall, they want a collection for their dining room. That makes me proud, to go into an old Delhi home, and see Tinder boys hanging up right next to handicraft on someone’s wall. It’s really not skilled work, it’s just what I’m doing with the skills I have, but it makes people happy.

What do your parents think?
My parents think it's hilarious. They are supportive, and they often make fun of me. I also make these sculptures, and the guy that helps me weld them works in my dad’s office. My work and the naked bodies are always a topic of conversation.

I guess I just want to start conversation, not a revolution. But hopefully that will come too.