Art

I like making art.  I like creating pieces which evoke a response- be it emotional, reflective, or simply "Hey wow, that looks neat!"  Honestly, most of what I do is geared toward that last one.  I admire folks that create with political or social commentary at the forefront, or who really pour their heart and soul into pieces.  But most of what I do comes from a place of "Haha, I'll bet this will look cool!"

This is why I'm no good at writing artist's statements.

But anyhow.  Once in awhile I do shoot content that comes from a more personal place.  This was one of those photos.  I shot it in the fall of 2010, and it was a visual representation of my relationship with sex at the time.  Not so chipper.

Through a somewhat convoluted series of events, this piece ended up in an erotic art show.  I was rather surprised and thrilled by this news (given than I hadn't, ya know, actually submitted the piece to this particular show).  And also somewhat bemused.

This photo came from a place of such frustration and resentment toward sex.  It didn't matter how much I wasn't into it, or how much I was just going through the motions- the show must go on, baby.  So to have a piece with so much negativity tied into it be accepted into a show celebrating eroticism?  I'll admit, I was giggling on the inside as I framed and shipped the piece.

Why is this on my mind now, a year after these events?

In a turn of events that has me giggling once again, the photo that I use for this blog was accepted into an erotic art show.  Asexually erotic, FTW.

The Gray in Gray-A

There's a reason that I identify as gray-a, rather than strictly asexual.

It's because the kinds of sex that I like, I like a lot.  A whole freakin' lot. 

I haven't figured out the exact formula for good sex, by my definition.  It comes with some combination of general attraction, having the right kink buttons pushed, and a general feeling of safety, both emotional and physical.  And then on top of all of that, there's some magical, generally elusive special sauce.

Sometimes I feel like I've painted myself into an asexual little corner.  In most cases, I don't want people to view me as a sexual creature.  I don't have that special sauce (or whatever) with them, and at this point I'm pretty burnt out on having people write sexuality onto me when it isn't there.  I've experienced it from partners, from friends, from strangers who see my non-sexual nudie photos on the internet.  And I'm sick of it.

So I just say, "I'm not into genitals most of the time" and leave it at that, rather than leaving perceived openings for negotiation or wiggle room or exceptions or whatever else.

But really, I sure do miss having sex that works for me.