I watched an interesting movie yesterday while I was moping about, called Séraphine. It was a French movie about an average woman, leading a life of hardships, doing whatever jobs possible in 1927 France and who had a passion for painting. She thought she was given a blessing by god that pushed her to follow her gifts. She did not really understand why or where the divine inspiration actually came from, but was compelled to paint at whatever the cost. She was a middle-aged woman, older than myself, living in a place and time of poverty. Yet she found the greatest joy in nature and collected items from her environment to temper and color her paint, blood from a cow liver, mud from a creek, flowering plants by the roadside. She brought these elements into her small one room living space and spent the nights grinding these items into her paints, then created amazing images of that nature in vivid almost childlike impressions. The woman who played Séraphine Louis (Yolande Moreau) was mesmerizing at bringing such honesty and truth to the character. In the end she is discovered as an old lady. The success drove her mad, and she spends her last 10 years in an asylum, disconnected from nature and painting as her imagery becomes legendary.
I saw so many parallels between Séraphine and myself. For many years I have worked in a world of seclusion, being compelled to create something that I never quite understood. I have worked many jobs, just trying to make a living in order to survive. I know my desire is for the naked male, it is my divine inspiration. My connection to my own desires is so strong it often becomes intoxicating. Yes, I know gay men are supposed to become obsessed by sex and the flesh, but somehow it’s not the sex that I am drawn to, it the emotional feelings and what is stirred within those moments before or after sex that I am most fascinated with. It almost seems, to physically touch someone dispels the allure and the touch often leads where I have been so many times before, becoming lost or blinded by its emotional entanglement. I caress my subjects not with my hands, but with the light. I adore their beauty, idolize their skin for its soft silky textures and the way the light glistens on the nape of their neck. Sex is actually the furthest thing from my mind when I am shooting. Sure there are those moments when I become aroused by the process, and it is those moments when I know my images will gain their greatest potency, because I am truly in touch with the erotic core of my process. As Séraphine brought her connection to nature into her vision, I bring that world of sensuality and seduction I have known and longed for into my vision. I realize now it has been the core of my life. I am romantic at heart, I have always been romantic. I spend my nights grinding all the elements of my existence into the tools of my pallet. I have yet to make any money on this process and live my life on the edge of finical struggle. I have the skills, talents and tools to create something that is more viable and commercial, but then it’s really not my vision anymore and becomes something created for others. Though my style and approaches have changed, I am still true to myself and it still remains the journey into myself. I do fear the influence success could have on what I do and I think in many ways it sort of holds me in this place struggling to survive. I am the most content when I am creating. Though my focus is shifting toward self promotion, I still can step back into my world of beautiful light and find the security of those remarkable highly intimate moments with my subjects when the ordinary is allowed to become extraordinary.
Having to take the day off today! But here is a new photo from this week with the new intern Stephen. He’s a young rodeo cowboy and turns out the be a good subject as well as helping with the website.
I have spent this weekend in contact with John Douglas in Australia coming up with a plan or an idea to begin a new social network based on male nude or erotic art. He was the original founder of a site called Man Art, which is where I first began to show my images a year ago May and really what has lead me to here. Followers of the Blog will remember that Man Art was shut down last spring due to censorship issues on the server hosting it. Men on the Verge of a Pornographic Extinction I am now working with a Webmaster who has his own server and the whole thing has become private so there should be no possibility of censorship. It seems the distinction between pornography and art is often blurred. But to the people creating it, the ability to express one’s self, those lines are quite clear. And sure sometimes we push those boundaries, but that’s what a true exploration of artistic expression is. If we did the same things all the time it would become boring and our work stagnate. As artist we need to constantly be challenging our selves and the way we examine our existence. And to have that social network in one common place where we can interact and feed each other is essential. For many years I worked in a hidden world. I knew what it was I wanted to do, but creating such art in a place like Montana was totally unacceptable and still taboo. But in all honest the naked male form is still taboo in most parts of the world. It’s funny that a man taking his cloths off in a football stadium faces sieve legal action while everywhere I wandered in Paris I saw open displays of statuary of full frontal exposed male nudity in most every public park. Unfortunately the private parts have been chiseled off some of the most remarkable pieces by various religions through out history that found that item of the male anatomy unacceptable. But gazing at the remarkable beauty of those statues where those bits still remained in tact it really doesn’t become the focus of the art. It actually has the opposite effect, because we are more drawn to what was removed. After centuries of growth and enlightenment we live in a world where people are still trying to dismember the penis. For god’s sake it’s a part of who we are, half of the world has a penis. I digress.
Another game day in Montana, today we play Eastern Washington and it should be one of the best games of the season. Last week there was a young man who jumped down to the field in the 2nd quarter in just his shorts, ran out into the middle of south end of the field, dropped his shorts and began to run around naked. Of course it brought the game to a halt as the 35,000 fans watched this man run around nude. We have had streakier before and typically security is all over them and has them off the field before you even realize what’s happening. But for some reason security just let him go, it was like they couldn’t enter the field and had to wait for him to come off. I think this naked man was as surprised as the crowd and he grabbed a megaphone and began to dance around the field taunting his now captive audience. After some time he did go off the field, was cuffed and then paraded completely around the field, still naked, to be escorted to the team locker rooms.
This morning when I looked on Manhunt, as I do every morning to peruse the personals in quest of new subjects for my photo experiments, I saw a name that actually intrigued me: Soul seeker. Of course I had to respond: “Soul Seeker – Interesting thought, that might make you either a god or a devil, searching for lost souls in a sometimes seemingly soulless environment; like a decent into a modern Dante’s Inferno. It’s really a brilliant concept.” He is a 32 year old, Top/Versatile Male that is 6”0 with a swimmers body, light brown wavy hair and a devilish glean in his blue eyes that has been taken in a multi impression mirror, so we can see the duality of his expression. My mind began spinning amazing thoughts about the possibility of the concept of a devil/angle searching for our lost souls in a man hunting site that has become a dream like world mostly plastered with impressionistic images of cocks, ass and mostly naked bodies seeking sex and quick hookups and an occasional long term relationship. WOW! What a perfect place for such a person to dwell where they can easily claim those souls, many seemingly lost; drifting, waiting, anticipating, on the edge of a dark desire that will either fulfill or consume them. For the most part they are looking to be consumed. This is beginning to sound a lot like a Tennessee Williams play or a short movie, or a study for a new photographic series. “All hope abandon, ye who enter in!” Why does this world of cruising men seem to always have such a dark edge? It is a delicious reverie of the flesh, a mysterious glimpse of a shadow in the darkness, most of them blurred, just a little beyond focus where we get a vague impression, but not sharp enough to contain any hints of reality. Abs are hyper extended, bodies contorted into complex unnatural poses, taken sometime from even more unusual positions. I am captivated and often envious that what I work so hard to create, can become genius at the hands of a skillful cell phone. Light setting in the wrong position creating equally as interesting color casts, that add a garish tone to the overall feel of the image. A skillfully placed strobe to obscure the face, adds to the soulless nature of the headless bodies. It’s like we are all trying to hide something, perhaps our insecurities and yet reveal something someone else might see in us and desire. I sometimes gaze in awe of the brilliance of these images, reading the brief snippets they project out to us and often ponder, who is this person, really. It fascinated me to no end. And I wonder if perhaps if I am not the soul seeker, that devil also trying to steal some of these lost souls. But often the subjects I have culled from these depths and brought into my studio to illuminate redeemed that self respect and dignity they often can’t see within themselves. This is where my imagery becomes it’s most powerful and provocative, restoring all these sorted bits into a distinguishable whole that is pure, healthy and vital. I have often thought it would be interesting to show a collection of these internet images. Printed, matted, framed and hung in a gallery where we could admiringly peer into the depths of these wondrous visions. The art of self selling one’s own sex is often for more interesting then what we give it credit for on the surface.
