Life and art are incredibly close to one another. Almost identical, but not quite. Like a parallel dimension, like an alternate universe, art has always been the number one destination for those who cannot find a place in a certain society.
But art and sex?
Well, that’s also the point of art. Art is sex, and sex is art.
Think about it.
Refuse to believe the self-imposed limitations of a society that is too afraid of its own nature. Feel it. Genuinely feel it.
Is art sex?
Is sex art?
sex is pleasure and life; a specie survives thanks to sex. art mimics sex and life for its creativity and pleasure. Freud defined art as a sublimation of sexual pulsions. Nietzsche said that the artist expresses the creative force of life.
Pictures of ISBN numbers above barcodes of the back covers of books are sexy art to me, in and of themselves. Glad you make and share, smile
🤔
Unfortunately, for some of us:
art is about never having sex.
Is that the fault of the art being created or the busy-ness of the artist?
I meant unrelenting physical loneliness.
Both as subject and force behind the work.
Existence exiled from beauty, or love.
That struggles to depict what it can never attain.
What can’t be attained that’s being depicted?
Beauty and love.
Yearning for them.
Expessed via poetry, prose, and art.
Creation, creativity… all involve the production of something new. The impulse can be sublimated lust, but not entirely. That’s why we speak about the passion of art. It’s lovemaking, but it occurs only in the mind- a sapiosexual act of procreation that births something emotive and colorful and heartfelt.
Thinking about ‘doing it’ gets your mind racing and your heart pumping. Almost all artists are in love with art, and no one wants to a whore strictly for money. That’s why the best art is usually created with purpose or feeling or a message first and money secondarily.