Studies in Surveillance: Sarrasine’s Operatic Veil and La Rosalía’s Pop Persona Through Exhibitionism and Scopophilia

When studying a new language, one soon discovers that direct translations are elusive. Idioms, words, and sensibilities in one language are not guaranteed to exist or have the same meaning in another. The same can go for any form of expression, including the artistic. A painting is an artist’s translation, created from their viewpoint, of something that exists outside of themselves. A composition is a musician’s sonic translation of a feeling or moment. These artistic modes of expression are gestures reflecting the essence of something, rather than a clear copy-and-paste of the thing itself. Moreover, when art is shared, an additional layer of translation emerges through interpretation. Art is the sole point of connection between artist and consumer, and interpretation is a fixed process in art consumption, as though the art is fed through a fine net and emerges shaped a little differently than before. This relationship between artist and consumer can become one of imagined familiarity, as both perspectives work together to create a finished work in a consumer’s mind. When art is performed, a dynamic between performer and spectator is established, providing a key example of how interpretation leads to fantasy. This is because the performer cannot physically remove themselves from the production. The simultaneous exposure and concealment of the dancer, opera singer, or pop star, say, allows for fantasy to penetrate the dynamic from both sides. This essay will analyze the role of surveillance in art, utilizing exhibitionist and scopophilic lenses to understand the performer-spectator relationships in Balzac’s 1831 novella Sarrasine and the song “Dios Es Un Stalker” by the contemporary performer Rosalía. But to explore the power of sight—as well as how it feeds into the innate human desire both to possess and to be the subject of visibility—we must first examine the origins of this desire.

From adolescence to adulthood, desire is a prevalent aspect of social life because humans are social creatures. The flow of desire, the push and pull of giving and receiving attention, is connected, in the view of Sigmund Freud, to the ego libido and object libido of every individual. Jacques Lacan cites Freud in the first chapter of Ecrits, stating that the libido is sexual energy and the driving force of all psychic activity (Lacan 6). The distinctions between ego and object libido relate to the direction the libidinal energy is traveling: the internal and the external. The ego libido is the psychic energy that the ego invests in itself. This is driven by the impulse for self-fulfillment and self-preservation. The object libido is the investment of psychic energy externally, to things such as material objects or people. The ego libido and object libido work in opposition, drawing from each other and their pool of libidinal energy. In humans, these energies present themselves frequently in the mode of sight. A gaze is also an exchange of energy that is sensitive to the presence of power dynamics because power is the driving force behind sight as it relates to libidinal energy. The average person is neither clairvoyant nor a mind reader. The closest signal we have to another person’s awareness of us is by sight. Luckily for us, there are specific terms that can be lent to how people interact with the ego and object libidos through sight. If the ego libido and object libido are the unconscious psychological impulses, then exhibitionism and scopophilia are the conscious expressions.

Exhibitionism is directly related to the ego libido, as it speaks to behaviors performed to attract attention. It is the pleasure that is derived from the thought that one is being monitored; thus, one’s actions become a performance, an array of prescribed actions with the intention of being the object of another’s desire. There are layers to this desire, however, and the ordinary satisfaction is different from the pathological inclination to attract attention through naughty behavior. Michel Foucault discusses the power of surveillance in his analysis of the panoptical structure in “Panopticism,” a chapter from his 1977 book Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. In “Panopticism,” Foucault argues that constant surveillance leads to self-discipline and collective social control. He provides the example of the physical panoptical prison, where a guard stands watch at a central tower, with a circle of prison cells surrounding it. The position of the guard tower allows the guard full sight into any cell at any time, while the inmates cannot tell if they are being watched. The organization of this structure amplifies the power of surveillance because it “arranges spatial unities that make it possible to see constantly and to recognize immediately” (Foucault 200). Foucault’s philosophical theory of panopticism puts the ego libido and exhibitionism into a new social context and provides terminology for the effects of surveillance. Although misbehavior from a prisoner means punishment within the panoptical prison—forcing inmates to self-regulate their behavior—Foucault’s argument offers a basis for understanding the power of surveillance that is essential to exhibitionism.

Panopticism and exhibitionism do intersect from the perspective of the prisoner within the structure. The panoptical structure proves that recognition is the force that penetrates the awareness of the human. Exhibitionism is a potential shift in behavior as a result of the pleasure one derives from the prospect of recognition. The function of power in this dynamic rests on the belief that “power should be visible and unverifiable” (Foucault 201). The libidinal power in sight lies in its simultaneous plausible deniability and possibility of fantasy, and the tension this creates. A glance can be dismissed just as quickly as it can give way to speculation. Gaze in the exhibitionist lens functions differently than within the panoptical structure; it is desired and pursued rather than evaded. Exhibitionism succeeds when the subject is in a constant state of performance, unsure of when exactly the attention is turned to them, because the ego libido is still in a constant state of expansion when one operates with surveillance constantly in mind. This self-centered approach to sight is exactly what the ego libido needs to recharge its impulses to self-fulfillment.

On the other side of the coin of surveillance is scopophilia—the accumulation of pleasure derived from looking at objects or people—as it relates to the object libido. Published in 1998, Laura Mulvery’s essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” analyzes qualities of cinema that enable the misogynistic and scopophilic features of Hollywood, fascinated with the fetishization of women. Mulvey employs Freudian theory to explore the functions of scopophilia in examining the performer-spectator dynamic. Mulvey found that Freud “associated scopophilia with taking other people as objects, subjecting them to a controlling and curious gaze” (Mulvey 587). Scopophilia in itself is an aesthetic pleasure as it is drawn from superficial desire. In an ideal scopophilic interaction, the object libido is powered by the dominance the surveiller holds over the surveilled. Although Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasures” studies scopophilia through cinema, her thoughts can be applied to other forms of art and performance. In her view, cinema “allows temporary loss of ego while simultaneously reinforcing the ego” (Mulvey 588). When interacting with art as a viewer, one can lose oneself in space and time, transfixed by the object at hand and how they, as an individual, relate to it. In this dynamic, the spectator forgets themselves, focusing their libidinal energy into an object that they see themselves in or see themselves with. This recognition is also essential to object libido as it was with the ego. Power and recognition in the performer-spectator dynamic always come down to sight. When you lend your gaze, you exercise your control over space with your sight and allow elements of fantasy to enter. In many cases, this fantasy leads into the sexual realm, as power is present in sexual dynamics, and the function of its presence changes depending on the desire of each individual. Scopophilia can give way to fetishism through voyeurism, and exhibitionism often relates to the public exposure of oneself. In both cases, scopophilic and exhibitionistic tendencies can be labeled sexually deviant. While scopophilia is not innately sexual, it can tend that way as the presence of power charges libidinal energy and permeates social and amorous dynamics. Knowing this, we must now consider how scopophilia and exhibitionism relate to art, specifically in the cases of opera and pop culture.

Whether an individual was attending the premiere of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in 1787 or attending Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour in 2023, the intention of their attendance would have been the same. When an individual attends the opera or a concert, the art itself is not the only part of the performance from which they derive pleasure. Receiving and viewing beauty from another is part of what is sought out in performance because these art forms feed into the power of sight and its concurrent directions when individuals exchange gazes. Between the traditional proscenium arch structure—which is used to frame the performer—and the use of opera glasses by opera-goers—used, typically, to surveil the performer and fellow crowd members—the opera-going experience provides tools for enhancement of the panoptical experience. The opera is a panoptical tool in itself that has allowed opera goers an open field for fantasy for centuries. In our study of this, we begin with Honoré de Balzac’s Sarrasine.

Sarrasine is a novella about the eponymous sculptor who falls in love with an Italian opera singer, only to discover that the singer is a castrato. In the story, the opera serves as a panoptical tool, making Sarrasine the scopophile and the castrato La Zambinella, the exhibitionist. The structure of the opera influences the power dynamics in this performer-spectator relationship, making the structure of the opera a contributing factor to Sarrasine’s captivation. Sarrasine recounts his first sighting of La Zambinella with specific attention to the effects of the stage, stating, “She [i.e., La Zambinella] came coquettishly to the front of the stage and greeted the audience with infinite grace. The lights, the general enthusiasm, the theatrical illusion, the glamour of a style of dress which in those days was quite attractive, all conspired in favor of this woman” (Balzac 237). In Sarrasine’s opera-going experience, the art is not the only thing that influences him. It is not simply about what he is viewing and hearing, but how and from whom he is receiving the performance. Fellow opera singer Jomelli sings before La Zambinella enters the stage, and she merely receives Sarrasine’s compliments regarding her “sublime harmony” (Balzac 237). The fact that Sarrasine is then immediately physically attracted to La Zambinella is important, and the operatic structure facilitates his infatuation. He proceeds to study the qualities of La Zambinella that he finds so pleasing, fragmenting the singer in a fetishistic style in the process, feeding his object libido. Studying the singer from arms to torso to face, Sarrasine views La Zambinella as more of a figure than a person when he decidedly “devoured Pygmalion’s statue, come down from its pedestal,” with his gaze (Balzac 238). Sarrasine describes his arousal by La Zambinella’s voice as “an impulse of madness, a kind of frenzy which overcomes us only when we are at the age when desire has something frightening and infernal about it” (Balzac 238). Sarrasine responds to this overwhelming sexual desire with the desire for ownership of La Zambinella, fighting the urge to “leap onto the stage and take possession of this woman” (Balzac 238). It hardly needs saying that to compare La Zambinella to a statue with which its sculptor fell in love is to signal the possessive gaze through which Sarrasine views the singer. The distance that the panoptical structure creates between them contributes to the frenetic desire that Sarrasine is experiencing. He is yearning for the singer, longing to be closer because the audience and stage separate them. Beyond longing, Sarrasine fantasizes about bringing La Zambinella back to his studio and having the singer model all her attractions in the privacy of his studio. In the operatic structure, Sarrasine’s gaze penetrates, evaluates, and determines La Zambinella’s fate.

When one pulls away from the panoptical structure, however, the enchanting effects of it are taken away; indeed, contact dissolves the fantasy of La Zambinella that Sarrasine perceives. When Sarrasine finally meets La Zambinella, he is stricken to find that the singer is not a biological woman, but a castrato. All of Sarrasine’s fantasies and desires come crashing down as he has to grapple with the implications of his attraction to a biological man. Sarrasine feels violated and altered by the illusion of femininity that he viewed onstage, claiming that La Zambinella has dragged him down to the singer’s level, implying that the singer’s level or status is one of shame and disgust. In a dynamic where the spectator subjects the performer to an invasive gaze, it is the spectator who feels violated when confronted with reality. In this performer-spectator relationship, La Zambinella holds power over the audience and Sarrasine because La Zambinella reflects the exhibitionist who curates the perspective and version of the performer that people are allowed to view.

From the instant that Sarrasine beheld La Zambinella, he analyzed and fragmented the singer in a scopophilic and fetishistic fashion. The aim of La Zambinella as the exhibitionist was to create an illusion that gave way to this reaction from the spectator. This is because the veil that the stage provides is like a mirror to the audience. Spectators are viewing a performer costumed and lit in an appealing fashion and from an invasive perspective. As the exhibitionist, La Zambinella can project herself in a multitude of ways. Meanwhile, Sarrasine’s projection was one of sexual and fetishistic desire. Because of the organized panoptical structure of the opera, it did not require much action from La Zambinella to create this effect on Sarrasine. This falls back onto the idea that simple gestures, such as a glance, are connected to libidinal energy. Roland Barthes’ analysis of “Sarrasine” in his book S/Z touches upon this concept. Barthes believes “that great structures, serious symbols, grand meanings are built upon an unimpressive foundation of ordinary acts that the discourse notes as a matter of form ‘to speak truly’” (51). The function of fantasy and its genesis in the enigmatic qualities of sight and seeing are of great importance to Barthes’s argument. As discussed earlier, the plausible deniability of sight gives way to fantasy. The foundations of plausible deniability, however, lie in the ordinary nature of sight and other acts that signal interest. The ordinary quality of sight is what gives it its plausible deniability and enables the tension it builds. The great structure of desire lies in the brush of a shoulder or the exchange of a glance. These things can be easily dismissed, but the accumulation of them turns a snowball into an avalanche of interest and desire. La Zambinella only needed to be aware of the scrutinizing gaze that spectators would bring to the opera, and the singer’s job would be accomplished.

The distance between performers and spectators constructed by the opera’s panoptical structure can be translated to our current era, where stadiums allow more people to view a performance at once, and social media gives spectators unique access to performers. The opera remains well and alive in 2025, but it does not engage younger audiences as it once did. Many of today’s youth turn to touring artists in a variety of genres to fulfill their musical spectating needs. In her 2025 album Lux, one of these artists, Rosalía, digs into her classical flamenco roots to blend traditional with contemporary styles. Her pop song “Dios Es Un Stalker” (i.e., “God Is A Stalker”) explores themes of stardom and scopophilia that feel personal and specific to the modern-day popstar experience.

The song begins with Rosalía’s voice and the plucking of a guitar. Although in everyday life, Rosalía is the performer/exhibitionist presenting herself for the world, in “Dios Es Un Stalker,” she becomes the spectator/scopophile of a lover. Immediately in the lyrics, Rosalía inhabits the role of scopophile, as she claims, “I’ll follow you, go improvise / No matter if you go slow or hurry up / You got no clue I’m your shadow” (ll. 1-3). By calling herself a shadow, she symbolizes her attachment to this individual. No matter what happens, she is always two steps behind, and the subject remains unknowing. The music paired with these direct and uneasy lyrics creates a suspenseful atmosphere. We come to find that the subject is a lover of some sort when Rosalía states, “That’s my way / Of showing you that you’ve been on my mind and I’ve missed you” (ll. 4-5). This state of surveillance she holds over the subject is, thus, apparently borne from love, signaling that her scopophilia comes from an amorous perspective and innate tendency. This tension builds into the first chorus, where trumpets and string instruments accompany the guitar, and she sings, “I know by heart your most undesirable desires / My breath is the wind brushing your hair / And I’m right behind out of love” (ll. 6-8). Her desire for her lover is powerful, and in her eyes, the instinctual and innate impulse is to surveil them. Her desire for another makes her want to know and understand them in every way, as the line about knowing her partner’s undesirable desires signals. In her view, sight is the way to achieve this level of intimacy.

The song eventually develops into a dramatic, orchestral pop song where her lyrics repeat, and the passion of her voice and the music only strengthen. This is to signal the sincerity of her desire and the strength of her gaze. The dynamic of Rosalía as the spectator is a rare one, and she notes this, only amplifying the passion in her gaze as she sings, “My silence strikes, mistress of the world and ideas / Everybody wants me at their side, my inbox has exploded” (ll. 15-16). She states that her “silence strikes.” This is reflected in “Sarrasine” as La Zambinella’s mystery and allure remain intact when she is merely a performer, and viewers are unaware of her true identity. Here, Rosalía not only speaks of her usual role of performer but of the power and influence she holds in that role. This is her way of acknowledging the importance of her new position as spectator. She has a massive influence in the stage light, but she desires to gaze upon her lover in the shadows. Additionally, the song does not explicitly name a God at all, though its title claims that God is a stalker. Here, Rosalía alludes to herself as God, then, and her position of surveillance of her lover as omnipresent. The entire song is an ode to her desire for another; it uncovers how this position as spectator allows her to explore this desire and know her lover intimately. Rosalía proves that a performer is not necessarily the subject of a scrutinizing gaze at all times, but can transition between exhibitionist and scopophile situationally. This demonstrates the intertwined nature of the conscious expressions and ways they work together, as the ego libido and object libido unconsciously draw from the same pool of libidinal energy, expanding and shrinking situationally.

The success of fantasy in the performer-spectator relationship rests on the understanding that you only know the performer as far as they are willing to let you in. La Zambinella and Rosalía’s positioning as performers can make them appear vulnerable to the spectators’ gaze, but in reality, this is by design. Sarrasine’s perception of La Zambinella was under the performer’s full control because the version of her that he witnessed at the opera was constructed for the stage, not for one-to-one interaction. La Zambinella’s stage persona was crafted with lighting, makeup, and physical distance in mind. The orientation of staging and lighting fostered “the general enthusiasm” of the audience and created “the theatrical illusion” that positively influenced the audience’s reception of La Zambinella (Balzac 237). These staging and lighting techniques led Sarrasine, as an audience member, to scrutinize La Zambinella with a scopophilic gaze. In other words, La Zambinella’s exhibitionism and the tools that enhance her exhibitionism premeditate and influence any gaze that perceives her. Rosalía provides this controlled perspective directly, using metaphors of remaining in the shadows to capture her lover when the time is right. Although La Zambinella was the opposite of positioned in the shadows as an opera singer, her true identity as a castrato was concealed from Sarrasine and other spectators, mirroring the 19th-century opera experience with a modern-day performer’s perspective of the performer-spectator relationship. When Rosalía says her “omnipresence leaves [her] exhausted,” she speaks to the control a performer holds over an audience, attained through preparation and continuous surveillance (line 29). When Rosalía and La Zambinella are performing on stage, they are not only being watched by an audience member but gazing into the audience and surveilling the reception of their performance.

All of this is to speak to the continuous push and pull of the power dynamic between performer and spectator. The performer is occupied with how they are perceived, while the spectator is occupied with perceiving. In many scenarios, this exchange taps into the innate human desire to be seen, even to the extent of finding pleasure in forms of surveillance. When a subject desires within a panoptical structure, the innate reaction is to use sight. This has widely been the case. Whether surveillance is explored in the eighteenth century or three centuries later, the themes of scopophilia and exhibitionism can be signaled because, while societies and languages change, innate human desires do not. Just as one studies a new language and must learn to navigate limitations to their diction, one must learn to navigate their desires, to examine how sight and action function as translations of them. Although desires work to gain a foothold in expression, sight functions to express and fulfill the desire for confirmation and power. Animals regard each other, but seeing and being seen are deeply human processes. The distinction between seeing and looking lies in recognition. Life is all about recognition, understanding, and acceptance. When a song touches you so deeply that you lose track of yourself in space and time, the art reveals both artist and listener in powerful ways. When that is experienced with an added layer of physicality and sight, a new world of fantasy can be explored.