Certain topics conjure up provocative assumptions, and erotica is one such subject; it has informed human sexuality for as long as we could string letters, stories and images together, generating tales of our most passionate selves. So when I was first asked to review sexualized art for a few different places, I found myself wondering: how could I – someone disinclined to thrust public criticism upon others – approach the task of without sacrificing certain core values?
Since I was invited to review explicit art, I felt the need to differentiate, in my mind at least, erotica from porn; get into the philosophy of the forms, if you will, to help me observe – whether I liked what I saw or not – more keenly. There are plenty of esoteric examples of all forms, and enough critics to push the envelop towards the outer edges of artistic expression. What ultimately became my rudder was this: did the images resonate with something deep within, that small still voice, or as the believer in me would say – my soul?
What I determined first of all was that I believe erotica unlike porn leaves the mind stimulated but not obsessed; it arouses the senses without desecrating the soul; it may embarrass but never shame the viewer. Granted, the line between what is sensual and sensationalized is a blurry one. Most of the time when we view bodies in various states of undress and limbs intertwined, most of us experience a visceral response, leaving the higher cerebral processes to chime in a distant second.
Watching two people make love is much different than watching a woman being banged in a staged sex scene, pretending she likes to enact someone’s fantasies with a prop or a pole or multiple grunting lovers. I might view and muse from the middle, but I also believe we can’t explore the fuzzy grays of sensuality if we don’t first push up against some edges.
The philosophy behind our sexuality and the choosing of which art to review, however, is more than just differentiating erotica from its degrading impersonations. Which is why when I’m asked to write about someone’s work, such as Jeff Wack, the artist behind the images in this blog, I take it very seriously. His site, sensuousmuse.com, is well, musingly sensuous.
I have discovered that in my own personal journey as an appreciator of the form, I will only write publically about erotica (endorse it if you will) if it encourages open honest discussions about human sexuality and the moralities (because there isn’t one right view on sex) we abide by. More specifically, that means that when it comes to sex, some basic rules must apply (although their interpretation is subject to individual understandings).
First and regardless of preferences and predilections, what I view and what it represents must feel authentic, safe and welcoming to me. Something that suggests outright harm is quite simply, repugnant. It is the antithesis of what I hold dear. Take note: this doesn’t preclude pain. There are things some lovers do and like and watch that can cause some desired hurt. This is easier to understand from a biological point of view if we realize that the neural circuitry that modifies pleasure and pain are closely linked in the brain.
Second, my sexual rudder requires that, to the best of my knowledge, all those involved be of suitable age to give consent. Anything less goes against my primal mother tendencies and passion to perpetuate greater knowledge of intimacy, not just the mechanics of sex. (On a side note: when we reduce coupling to the extremes of procreation or f*cking, it is my belief that we fail our children miserably, missing opportunities to share with them the relationship between sex and intimacy. It is my understanding that the former is the exchange of body heat and fluids, whereas intimacy, the real glue between us all, is the exchange of that intangible thing felt as energy of the heart.)
And finally, it must be beautiful. I admit this knowing full well that not only is the cliché fully true and my preferences don’t reflect yours necessarily, but that wanting to write only about pretty things strips me of any credibility as a critique in the eyes of some professionals. That is fine by me; as you’ll note, not once do I claim that title anyway. While it is my opinion that in order to better understand the outer edges of our desires and sexual practices through the appreciation of art, the starting point must be that elusive thing called beauty and it must, in some way tangible or not, advance my understanding of love.
Whether in a traditional relationship, or something altogether undefined and ambiguous but clearly based on love – I like art that abides by principles of sexual morality, explores the complexity of human emotion, and resonates with those parts within that communicate without ordinary words.
By and large it’s safe to presume that our primitive urges will continue to shape the creative interpretation of sexual attitudes, preferences and desires. As erotica evolves, garnering a wider audience, entering the mainstream via new technologies, and finding a balance between supply and demand of all its nuances, I have one simple goal: find, appreciate and introduce others to artists who advance a deeper understanding of two things that matter to me: beauty and love.
If I can imagine it on my own walls – as an ordinary writer, wife and mother of two – then I write about it.
:: The Moon and Other Erotic Art by Jeff Wack
Tinamarie is an occasional poet and writer for several acclaimed websites. She blogs at www.tinamariebernard.com. You can find her at twitter and Facebook, or send her a private message at modernlovemuse @ yahoo dot com.
©2010-2011 www.TinamarieBernard.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article.
