GLR January-February 2026

ESSAY

The Power of the Foot S ERGIO I NTERDONATO

T HE END OF THE YEAR brings evaluations and ratings in many arenas, including social media: Instagram’s “Recap,” the much-anticipated “Spotify Wrapped,” and of course “Grindr Un wrapped,” a chart showing the state of at least a certain segment of the queer community. As a young Italian gay guy, I always look for what my compatriots are interested in. In 2024, for the second time in a row (the feet statistic was only introduced in 2023), Italy topped the list for foot fetishists. The nation of marble Adonises and Renaissance grandeur is also the capital of #feet. This isn’t just about Grindr stats. It speaks to something deeper—something that may be wired into the DNA of Western visual culture. Feet aren’t just a fetish category. They’re the foundation of how we see, desire, and structure the male body. They’re the most subtly eroticized feature in art history and vi sual culture, from Greek statuary to high fashion, from the cam era angles in porn to social media thirst traps. Why do feet carry such a fetishistic weight? Tracing how this works, and how foot-power has long been tied to visual he donism, may help untangle the kink from its taboo. To answer that, we need to go back to the origins of the male body as an object of desire, sculpted in stone long before it was captured on camera. From the pedestal onward, feet teach the eye what se duction and arousal feel like: weight, balance, contact, the tan talizing line between exposure and concealment. And this is a lesson that survives in every medium. F EETAS V ISUAL A NCHORS F ROM THE BEGINNING of Western visual culture, feet have played a central role in anchoring the male body within space and de sire. Look at The Laocoön Group (c. 40–30 BCE). The twisted agony of the Trojan priest and his sons is famous for its con torted expressions, but the true weight of the sculpture lies else where: the feet. Their feet are planted in a way that grounds the entire movement, making them a critical tension point. Their suffering is all in the upper body, but their feet hold, resist, and bear the weight. Seen closely, their marble toes seem almost bruised by strain; a big toe lifts slightly as if searching for pur chase, the Achilles tendon taut like a drawn bowstring. The ser pents are spectacular, but the drama is clinched where sole meets plinth—the choreography of pressure and letting go that makes the body believable. Or take Polykleitos’ Doryphoros (original bronze, now lost, ca. 440 BCE), the most famous example of contrapposto. The figure’s weight shifts onto one foot, setting off a chain reaction Sergio Interdonato is a Milan-based freelance writer, editor, and cu rator. As an artistic director, he manages press relations for contem porary art projects and exhibitions.

of perfect tension up his body. His sculpted musculature is hyp notic, but where does the gaze start? The stance, the foundation, the way his body negotiates balance through his feet. The foot is not a leftover extremity; it’s the hinge of grace. Nowhere is this sense of the foot as a visual synecdoche for the power of the body clearer than in the Barberini Faun (ca. 220 BCE), perhaps the most explicitly sensual of all classical statues. Here a satyr lounges, legs spread, the entire body an in vitation. His pose is relaxed, almost post-coital, yet his feet— splayed, flexed, visibly tensed—subtly direct the eye upward. He isn’t just resting; he’s exhibiting. His entire body is sculpted for pleasure, and his feet are the first thing that catches your eye. They are neither passive nor rigid—they suggest move ment, readiness, presence. A Renaissance marble that draws on this Classical tradition is the David (1501–1504). We all recognize the poised inten sity of Michelangelo’s masterpiece, his furrowed brow, his im pending action. But his feet are where his body feels real. They are oversized, veined, textured: Unlike the smooth idealization of his torso, his feet are alive. They root him in physicality. They hold that perfect tension of youth and vitality, of a body about to move. Michelangelo’s chisel carves a cartography of veins across the dorsum; nails carry a faint, almost crescent shine; the big toe presses forward as if testing the future—almost crashing us or holding us in place, as Michelangelo precisely studied it

Barberini Faun, ca. 220 BCE.

TheG & LR

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