In the book “Cute, Quaint, Hungry, and Romantic: The Aesthetics of Consumerism” Daniel Harris writes:
“Something becomes cute not necessarily because of a quality it has but because of a quality it lacks, a certain neediness and inability to stand alone, as if it were an indignant starveling, lonely and rejected because of a hideousness we find more touching than unsightly.”
We ascribe cuteness on to objects that we deem defenseless and in need of our affection and support. We gain a sense of pleasure from pitying those things that we view as deserving of our sympathy. Stuffed animals are designed to be soft and plush, with rounded immobile limbs perfect for squeezing and holding. Yet the true-life counterparts to these stuffed animals are anything but. Wild animals surely do not need humans to care for and caress them.
Anthropomorphism is another way we project “cuteness” on to animals by envisioning them with distinctly human characteristics. Countless cartoon animals have entertained children and adults alike for decades; mice, rabbits, pigs, birds, jungle cats, etc. have all been anthropomorphized in cartoons to create cutely comical situations for our enjoyment. However, as Harris notes: “cuteness is an aesthetic under siege”. More and more frequently in today’s media the “anti-cute” is gaining popularity. Cartoon animals are no longer just the sweetly naïve do-gooders of yesteryear. Today we see cartoon animals drinking, smoking, and swearing, they have problems that more people can relate to and are more and more taking on the harsh light of humanity. The anthropomorphism is present in both the “cute” and “anti-cute” alike, but this new breed resembles humans more and depends on them less. If we see cuteness in anthropomorphized animals as a need for protection and care then the new aesthetics of “anti-cute” are roundly rejecting the idea of neediness and asserting an unconcerned coexistence and shared grief with their human counterparts.
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