by BJW Nashe
Now that the guilty verdict is in, and the moral issue of Jodi Arias’s crime is settled, probably correctly, it is time for other more worldly considerations to be brought to bear on this unsettling case. Suitably chastened by the firm, steady hand of justice, hopefully now we can all dry our tears, dampen our sense of outrage, stop chanting “USA!” outside the Maricopa County Courthouse, and finally view Jodi’s saga from a true crime connoisseur’s perspective. And in fact, at this point in our history, as inundated as we are with crime, whether we know it or not, we truly have become crime connoisseurs. We are experts when it comes to murder – aestheticians of the bloody deed. We should all be awarded honorary doctoral degrees. Such expertise, however, inevitably leads us to legitimate questions of artistry. In the case of Jodi Arias, it is time for a thorough evaluation along these lines. The question is not whether she did it; rather, the question is how well did she do it, how artistically, how pleasingly?
The distinguished English essayist and oft-times opium-eater Thomas De Quincey points the way forward in his brilliant and timeless essay, “On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts” (Blackwood’s Magazine, 1827):
“When a murder is in the paulo-post-futurum tense, and a rumor of it comes to our ears, by all means let us treat it morally. But suppose it over and done… suppose the poor murdered man to be out of his pain, and the rascal that did it off like a shot, nobody knows whither; suppose, lastly, that we have done our best, by putting out our legs to trip up the fellow in his flight, but all to no purpose… why, then, I say, what’s the use of any more virtue? Enough has been given to morality; now comes the turn of Taste and the Fine Arts.”
For Jodi Arias, it is indeed “over and done.” And no, she is not “off like a shot.” Rather, she is caged like an animal, and will be fortunate to avoid the death penalty. Or unfortunate, if her initial response to the verdict is to be trusted. Arias has stated emphatically that she would prefer death to life in prison. In her first statement made to a TV reporter following the conviction, she explained her thought process: “Longevity runs in my family, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my natural life in one place. I believe death is the ultimate freedom and I’d rather have my freedom as soon as I can get it.” One can see why the insanity defense was not considered in this case. Jodi’s logic here is unassailable. If the past is any indication, she will be changing her position on this half a dozen times in the future. For now, it is death that is foremost on her mind.
It is worth noting that if death is the “ultimate freedom,” then Arias’ murder victim, Travis Alexander, strikes us as being “over-liberated.” The manner in which he was dispatched from this mortal coil stamped his “ultimate freedom” with an exclamation point. There was no debating the issue. We believe he likely would have preferred to continue living with little or no freedom, trapped in his dual role as a combination Mormon church boy/debauched fornicator. But this was not be his fate.
Indeed, if death is the “ultimate freedom,” perhaps we should all be murdered just to get it over and done with. But let’s not get sidetracked by too many thorny existential questions at this point. Our primary concern here is the fine art of murder insofar as this applies to Jodi Arias. In particular, we need to look closely at the character of the murderess, her choice of victim, and the style with which the crime was carried out.
The Character of the Murderess:
And Jodi Arias earns points right from the start for her physical appearance and her personality. No one doubts that she is an attractive young woman. Many would call her beautiful. The Creator endowed her with certain charms; the plastic surgeon did the rest. Let us praise the Lord for the miracles of genetics, science, and medicine. We can all probably agree that any time a woman blessed with Jodi Arias’s good looks becomes involved in murder, the aesthetic possibilities are endless.
It is hardly on looks alone that Jodi Arias succeeds as a murderess, though. There’s no need for us to succumb to a displeasing shallowness. We also need to consider her personality and behavior. Happily, Jodi presents us with a wealth of riches in this regard.
Jodi Arias has demonstrated a level of psychosexual dynamism that may be unsurpassed in the annals of female crime. She is able to combine the chilly manipulative demeanor of a top flight film noir vixen — say, Lauren Bacall circa The Big Sleep (1946) — with the red-hot antics of a 21st century porn star. This heady melange of cool, calculated mind-games and x-rated promiscuity was the elephant in the room throughout the circus that some dared call a trial. Emotional blackmail, fits of jealousy, and dysfunctional codependency? Jodi had it covered. Bondage? Degradation? Anal sex? Sperm facials? Jodi was up for it. Let’s be honest, the risque photos displayed at the trial, along with the phone sex recordings, and the naughty testimony concerning Spiderman underpants and rough sex following hot on the heels of a Mormon baptism — all of this turned a whole season of “Court TV” into an Arizona remake of the Marquis de Sade’s Crimes of Love.
And Jodi’s apparent psychological problems — her dissociative personality disorder, her mood swings, and her compulsive lying — only served to boost the scandalous nature of the proceedings. Likewise, her murder trial makeover, in which she was transformed from blonde femme fatale into a bespectacled, brunette librarian, just made the subject matter seem even more salacious. What sex addict or voyeur has not, at some time or other, entertained fantasies of “Greek love” with a librarian? We can only assume that Travis Alexander was no stranger to this sort of activity.
None of this detracts one bit from the artistic quality of her crime. On the contrary, Jodi Arias scores extremely high when it comes to personal appearance, style, personality, and attitude. I can’t think of another murderess who presents such a dangerous blend of psychological problems, undeniable attractions and untamed desires.
Jodi Arias’ Choice of Victim
When it comes to the matter of Jodi Arias’ victim, we find ourselves in a bit of a quandary. The esteemed De Quincey lays out three criteria in this category for a truly artistic murder. First, the victim should be a “good person.” This satisfies the Aristotelian notion that a murder shall invoke both terror and pity. If the victim is an evil sort, his/her murder, though terrifying, will arouse scarcely any pity at all. Second, the victim should not be a public figure. Killing a celebrity or well-known official takes on the more abstract flavor of an assassination, which tends to distract us from purely artistic and aesthetic considerations. Third, the victim should be in good health, for as De Quincey puts it, “it is absolutely barbarous to murder a sick person, who is usually quite unable to bear it.” Absolutely. Just because we are dealing with murder here, there is no need to descend to the level of mere savages.
So how does Jodi Arias measure up to these standards? On balance, she does well. But as in most things in life, there is definitely room for improvement. Travis Alexander was certainly in fine health, and he was by no means a public figure or celebrity. His name would mean nothing to us, were it not for his violent demise. 
As far as being a “good person,” however, this presents us with distinct problems. By pretending to be a devout Mormon, all the while indulging in pre-marital sex binges on the sly, Travis Alexander was clearly a scoundrel. Perhaps not a scoundrel of the order of the venture capitalist and Latter Day Saint, Mitt Romney, but a scoundrel nonetheless. Anyone who rationalizes his clear delight in sodomy because he has convinced himself that this particular act poses no threat to his Mormon vows, since it is somehow not considered “intercourse,” is a confused and dishonest individual. Indulge to your heart’s content in this ungodly act, but please, spare us the fairy tales and rationalizations. Sodomy and religious dogma do not mix. Moreover, we would not be shocked to learn that Travis combined his delusional thought processes and beliefs with abusive behavior toward women. Should we really be surprised that this type of man would one day be attacked by one of his sex buddies, whom he talked about tying to a tree?
Therefore, when it comes to her choice of victim, Jodi scores 2 out of 3. Her slaying of Travis allows for ample terror, but alas, none of the pity we would feel over the violent and untimely death of a “good person.”
The Artistry of the Murder Itself
Now we can move on to what is by far the most important part of our evaluation — the artistry of the murder itself. Here we must navigate through some fairly complicated terrain. The crime scene itself was a huge mess, the site of bloody pandemonium. Jodi turned that house into an abattoir. Travis Alexander was shot and then stabbed close to thirty times with a knife. His head was nearly severed. So what are we to make of this attempted masterpiece? Remember, we are discussing pure aesthetics here — the morality and legality of the matter having been thoroughly resolved. That dead horse that has been flogged quite enough already.
In terms of planning and execution, Jodi Arias exceeds all expectations. What is particularly striking is the combination of cold-blooded premeditation (ensuring her the coveted first degree murder conviction), with what can only be described as a passionate frenzy when it came time to close the deal. The Manson girls of 1969 inevitably come to mind. But they were unclean hippies. Jodi was well-scrubbed, perfumed, and no doubt clothed in Victoria’s Secret, or some close cousin. Plus, she had the audacity to have sex with her victim prior to killing him. Surely this deserves bonus points! Let’s face it, Jodi would eat the Manson girls’ brains for lunch. Compared to Jodi, they were bush leaguers.
When it comes to the choice of weapons, we are faced with a real dilemma. Perhaps Thomas De Quincey might guide us here. The learned and eloquent dope fiend, friend and contemporary of Wordsworth and Coleridge, was partial to stabbing and throat-slitting, above all other forms of killing. Bludgeoning was acceptable, but he had a special fondness for the dagger, and no use whatsoever for poison:
“Fie on these dealers in poison, say I: can they not keep to the old honest way of cutting throats, without introducing such abominable innovations from Italy? I consider all these poisoning cases, compared with the legitimate style, as no better than wax-work by the side of sculpture, or a lithographic print by the side of a fine Volpato.”
I must say, I feel the same way about guns as De Quincey does about poison. Any moron can load up on firearms and ammunition at the local gun store. They can visit a gun show, or purchase guns online, and not even be bothered with a routine background check. Pulling a trigger and blasting holes in someone takes no great level of skill or depravity. It is simply a mechanical action, requiring no more aesthetic skill than starting a car or flushing a toilet.
We must, therefore, rank Jodi Arias considerably lower than we would prefer on this account, simply because she made the aesthetically disastrous choice to use a gun. It’s a shame, because her knife skills are unsurpassed, truly off the charts. Her blade work and the ensuing bloodshed is reminiscent of both the disfiguring cubism of Picasso, and Jackson Pollock’s abstract expressionist splatterings and drips. The bathroom scene is a true wonder; it’s shocking that this was only her first murder. And the sexual activity takes us into the realm of transgressive Viennese performance art. (A pre-murder sex tape would have been an excellent touch, but you can’t have everything.) Moreover, Jodi’s incredible performance during the police interrogation – complete with yoga positions and pleasing gymnastics — is pure Dada. Hugo Ball would have surely applauded this tour de force.
All in all, the sublime and terrifying artistry of Jodi Arias’ act of murder is undeniable. Yet it will remain forever tarnished by the crass and tasteless use of a firearm.
I am reminded of Valerie Solanas, the deranged feminist revolutionary and author of The S.C.U.M. Manifesto (1967). “S.C.U.M.” is the acronym for the “Society for Cutting Up Men” (not the “Society for Cutting Up Mormons”). And that’s precisely what Solanis advocated: knife attacks in the face of male oppression. The typical man, as Solanas affectionately characterizes him, “is obsessed with screwing; he’ll swim in a river of snot, wade nostril-deep through a mile of vomit, if he thinks there’ll be a friendly pussy awaiting him…” The women she calls on to butcher these males are “completely self-confident, arrogant, outgoing, proud, tough-minded… capable of intense, witty, bitchy conversation.” They are also “hateful, violent bitches… given to disgusting, nasty, upsetting scenes.” And they are prone to “slamming those who unduly irritate them in the teeth.” These women, Solanas writes, would “sink a shiv into a man’s chest, or ram an icepick up his a__hole as soon as look at him, if they knew they could get away with it…”
Zut alors! Not exactly Oprah’s Book Club material–but undeniably the angry screed of a thoughtful psychopath.
Yet, when the time came to put her theory into practice, Solanas went for the gun. Not the knife, the shiv, or the icepick. The gun. You may or may not recall that she’s the one who shot Andy Warhol in 1968, seriously wounding him as he stood there dazed inside the inner sanctum of his famed Factory. Warhol somehow survived the attack. And Solanas had made a serious mistake. The shooting ruined her reputation forever. I am perhaps one of the few connoisseurs of crime who even remembers her name. And I only invoke her here as an example of how miserably one can botch an otherwise excellent and artful execution simply by choosing the wrong weapon.
Despite these few imperfections, the slaying of Travis Alexander, when viewed as a complete event — an “artistic whole,” shall we say — ranks extremely high in the annals of murder. Although Thomas De Quincy would rightly decry Jodi’s somewhat inexplicable use of a firearm, this blemish on the act can and shall be forgiven, considering the near perfection of the overall performance. Jodi Arias will be remembered for quite some time by all true connoisseurs of crime.