Like a walk in a garden, you catch a glimpse of delicate creature coyly flirting with visibility among the flowers. You feel a brief spark that invites a longer look and maybe leaves a gently joyous, lingering sensation.
Why is sex, and the erotic in general, segregated in our storytelling?
Today I make one thing. I may make something different tomorrow. I close down by hitting a kind of reset button on the office, restoring it to a ready state–ready for tomorrow’s adventure.
Everything that’s not burning hot like that hothouse, not pushing and pulling to reshape us into our most glorious selves, not utterly committed and vulnerable, is the mistake, the fake, the loss, the near miss.
Expanding my routines freed up my thinking about health and physique, freed up my body and, believe it or not, freed up my art, too.
When you start to engage with the cishet power brokers and gatekeepers, pundits and pontificators, you’ll often get the well-intentioned advice to straighten it up or go nowhere.
2021, 14 in. x 11 in., casein on paper
How did we come to a place where physique is the realm of toxic masculinity?