Pride and Shame

I'm not immune to social stigma; in fact, I'm pretty sensitive to it. So it's definitely a little embarrassing to think that of all things - particularly in light of my intellect and upbringing - I might be remembered (in the final analysis) for how much I like[d] to take pictures of myself naked. But listen, it was a fun and harmless hobby that I initially kept to myself (and, well, internet strangers seeking out that sort of thing, whom I would never meet or have a conversation with in real life), but that turned out to have a rich artistry that I've come to appreciate deeply.

Yes, it's a fine line - tiptoeing between the thrill of transgressing a taboo (while shining light on the natural beauty of something that carries undue stigma within polite society - it's because the taboo feels unjust that I delight in transgressing it; I'm not trying to tear down the fabric of society here) and crossing over into the territory of scandalous indecency. Actually, it can be an exciting dance to perform; and I won't lie, my studies of the aesthetics of the human body have taken me in various directions, in the absence of certain preconceived notions about its "proper" depiction in the realm of fine art, denuded (if you will) of any overt sexual connotation.

But I understand context and audience, and I maintain that there is a level on which nude art may be appreciated, not completely sterilized of its sometimes erotic undertones, but by a somewhat more reserved and sophisticated eye - the way that Michelangelo's David or the Venus de Milo can stand proudly (and publicly) in a museum, to the adoration of any who pass by.

That's not to say that I'm placing myself alongside the greats of art history. I don't even create beauty; I just steal it from nature. In the grand scheme, I don't consider myself to be a terribly accomplished artist. However, I believe I do very well within my limited means. I have no classical training, and mental illness constitutes a significant obstacle to my ability to grow and collaborate within a larger community. That said, I've been working on honing my craft consistently for the past fifteen years, and there has been considerable improvement.

I may not be the best right now that I will ever be, but I also have to consider that age is beginning to place its own limitations on my abilities to work both in the physically demanding capacity of a self-portrait model (which involves a lot of muscle tension and a surprising amount of running around), as well as that of a photo processing editor, which involves a mind-numbing volume of repetitive actions performed while sitting stiffly in front of a monitor - hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and so on, however long it takes until the work is done.

I don't know if I'll ever be better than I am now, but I know that I am better than I was in the past, and even if the best I'll ever be isn't good enough to warrant any kind of critical attention, or even justify the pride I feel at what I've accomplished (knowing every step of the journey I've taken to reach this point), it's all I've got. It's all I have to show for myself. Whether it's enough or not - whether I'm enough or not - it represents all that I am. It's the most sincere and original product to come from my passionate and creative mind thus far in my life. For better or worse, you can take it or leave it. I've done what I can. How you regard it - how you regard me, and the deficit between your expectations and my reality - is up to you.

But please be kind, because I can't rewind.

Afterword: I wrote this as a creative exercise while brainstorming ways to introduce my family to my nude photography. Not that it's any big secret that this is part of who I am and what I've done with my life. It's just that, when you start taking naked pictures of yourself, it's something that you instinctively compartmentalize from other aspects of your life.

Like, it was originally something I did for my girlfriend when I was a teenager, which makes this all a little bit awkward. But my interest in the art form (which emerged very early on) has evolved far beyond the purposes of my private sex life. I see myself as a legitimate artist, and not just a "purveyor of smut". And the people who are important to me - I'd love to fold them more into that, so they can share with me in the pride of my successes (such as they are), the way people in just about any other line of work (and especially the creative arts) can do.

That is, assuming I'm not deluding myself about whether there is any merit to the art I produce beyond its superficial value as masturbation fodder. If I were to create a great work of nude art - that is not simply erotic (although it may be that), but is technically accomplished and aesthetically satisfying - does it deserve a position on the refrigerator? Or does it only belong inside somebody's locker? I guess you could say that's my goal as an artist - to take pin-ups out of the locker, and put them on the refrigerator. But I have to ask myself, what is my motivation? Am I trying to legitimize an unfairly stigmatized genre? Am I trying to defang a python, and domesticate it so it can be kept as a pet? Or is this all just an expression of my exhibitionism - the desire to display... well, desire out in the open?

But it's not as though I'm unconcerned with matters of taste and aesthetics. And I don't say that just to make excuses. I think people should cringe at the thought of low effort porn being exposed to the light of day (in the privacy of your bedroom, however, you should feel free to go wild). While at the same time, I feel that a masterpiece of artistic eroticism should be plastered on billboards without an ounce of shame. And, I mean, it kind of already is, if you look at the glamour and advertising industries. But there's still this completely arbitrary taboo on nudity. Unclothed bodies can be just as tastefully artistic as a pop star in skin-tight gold lamé (and moreso, if you ask the nudists); it's not about how much is shown, but how it's shown.

Anyway, I'm undecided as to whether I should try to aim for relatability and address the elephant in the room ("I know it sounds weird, but here's what I think is great about taking off my clothes and trying to make art"), or if it would be better to take a more dignified approach and not give voice to those doubts, and just let the people who think it's weird feel like they're the ones who are weird for thinking that in the first place ("if you'd ever studied art history, you'd know this is normal"). I could see the merit in either approach.

Watermarks

(The following is something that came to mind while I was methodically watermarking my images one day).

My watermarks aren't really designed to prevent theft. Because even though I could make it more frustrating for thieves to steal my work, there's a tradeoff point at which it starts to detract from the art. And let's be honest, if a thief is determined enough, he'll find a way. I don't condone it, but I'm not gonna wring my hands and let it ruin my enjoyment of sharing the art I create. Plus, I don't just produce images, I consume them too, so I know what it's like to be on the other side of the screen, and I know how the photo sharing community operates. I don't position myself in opposition to a community I identify with, and I'm not out to condemn perfectly reasonable fair use applications of my work, because I don't want to be a hypocrite.

The reason I use watermarks is partly to claim my copyright in an official capacity, but mostly as a tool to aid the relationship between art and audience - so that people who see my work will know who made it, and will be able to seek out more like it. Yes, it helps me by establishing my brand and serving as a low-key form of advertising, but it's also for the benefit of fans. I don't want to be obnoxious or pretentious, so I try to maintain the right balance, but I do also respect the value of copyright, and the importance of an artist to confidently claim ownership of their work. That's why I continue to watermark my images, even though it increases my workload, and can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

When I'm deciding how to put watermarks on my images, I approach the process primarily from a perspective of good faith, and not with the intention to deter bad actors. Some might call me idealistic and naive, but I prefer to think of it in terms of positivity and kindness. Because if you're not respecting my copyright (and really, I'm quite lenient, as long as you follow common sense - my main concern is other people taking credit for my work, as well as any money that should rightfully be going into my pocket), then you're not respecting me. And if you like the art I produce, then why would you disrespect the person who produced it? We are all vulnerable to exploitation in this world. My goal is to spread happiness and joy, while counting on being someone that I would hope people would not WANT to exploit. And it may simply be because I'm just not that popular, but so far, it has worked for me.

Naked As The Day

Chapter 1

I was born naked. I wasn't raised that way, but I eventually found my way back - in fits and spurts. I remember running through the sprinkler at 8 years old, being startled by the neighbor girl peeking through the fence. Around 14, I borrowed my parents' camcorder for a school science project, and satisfied my curiosities about the human body (before destroying the evidence). In college, I didn't see any reason to carry anything more than a towel through the halls of my dorm on the way to the shower. As an adult, I'd take summer strolls through my suburban neighborhood in the middle of the night, always on alert for passing cars, getting spooked by the occasional motion sensing porch light. I kept these excursions a secret due to social convention and the fear of being accused of indecent exposure (soon to be an antiquated concept), but I was never bothered by the fundamental idea of being seen without being dressed.

Which is why I was intrigued when I first heard about the U.S. government voting on a provision to guarantee its citizens the unassailable right to spend their birthdays in what is colloquially referred to as their "birthday suit". In other words, naked as a jaybird. I'm not gonna lie, it's a pretty radical experiment. But we're living in exciting times, after all. Having spent years on the brink of global catastrophe, the ever-growing rift between political factions has finally imploded - mostly on account of elder conservatives dying off and being replaced by younger, more progressive activists. As it goes. For once, I feel excited about the future. We're even finally taking measures to combat climate change - and one of them is a dramatic overhaul of the textile industries.

Fast fashion has given way to fashion fasting - that is, abstaining from clothing. It is by no means widespread - yet. But search the hashtag on TikTok and you'll see an endless stream of people embracing the "No Laundry" challenge, lounging at home in their underwear - or less. Slowly, but surely, our culture is becoming less scandalized and more accustomed to skin exposure, as the planet heats up and the clothes come off. Social media algorithms are in the process of being reprogrammed NOT to flag the human body for censure. The Guardian recently reported on Mark Zuckerberg's procurement of the web domain for Skinbook, pivoting focus from his floundering metaverse (rejected by a generation grown up in lockdown, and bored with social isolation), likely in anticipation of the wave of nudes that will begin to be shared once society realizes it's no longer taboo.

But we're not there just yet. A trendy minority might be having clothing optional house parties with friends (and friends of friends), but I don't see random people walking around naked in public. With the passing of this new law, however - guaranteeing citizens the right to dress down (all the way down, to their skin) on their birthdays - that's exactly what I'm expecting. It'll probably be a few years before the practice really takes off (if it ever does), but I'm excited to be on the vanguard of this revolutionary social change. I can't pass up this opportunity - I was born for it! How many people will take advantage of their newfound freedom the first year? Not many, I imagine. That's why it's up to people like me to show them the way. There's just one problem: my birthday's in January.

(To be continued...?)