My final in Eros. Currently hanging in the Aphrodisiac show in the Meyerhoff.
8×22. Click image to see the full size.
I’m still amazed sometimes when I talk to girls about feeling alienated in our culture, because my desires as a heterosexual female are not considered important, and they tell me “well, have you ever considered that straight girls like to look at other women?”
Fine. Girls are pretty. I get it. But do they answer my deepest needs as a sexual being? No. Not even close. Do those words ring hollow when it’s a fact of life that images of women surround us and far outnumber the images of men ? Yes.
Blatantly sexualized men are considered homoerotic. That means that the intended audience is other men. And because of this, no matter how sexy that image might be, it never the less consistently reminds women who look that they are irrelevant, obsolete.
What is truly obsolete are straight female artists painting images of sexy ladies as if they were doing anything besides buying into a male fantasy that is so pervasive that they have CONVINCED THEMSELVES that this is what turns them on, that they would rather look at this than images of men.
I intend to paint images that turn me on—I have a rich fantasy life that in no way is accurately reflected by the advertising/publishing industry (if you want proof, go to the romance novel section and compare how many men are featured on the covers vs. women. I think you’ll find a lot of sexy lady backs, thighs, and heaving busts…and a dearth of sexy man hands, chests, backs, and hips). Because of this, I get the sense that what I like is not normal. I am alienated, dehumanized. I am expected to buy things because supposedly all women are sexually fluid enough to either be turned on by other women, or put themselves in the place of aroused women in adverts. That’s like seriously expecting a straight guy to get turned on because he sees another man masturebating. In our culture, the former is the normal, expected, acceptable course of things, the latter is clearly defined as homosexual.
I know its scary for men to be objectified. Women have long held the sole claim to that role. It makes you vulnerable and strips away your agency. But objectification, sexualization, can be fun and healing. We are sexual, visual creatures. It is when we say that only one group of people can and should have their desires catered to, or even have desires at all, that sexual violence and oppression are created.
So, ladies, look deep inside yourselves and stop apologizing for liking what you like. Stop being embarassed that you like men, the supposedly rougher, uglier sex (as if—Gary Sinise, David Bowie, and Burn Gorman are hardly otherworldly exceptions to their gender). And if you have the time and inclination, indulge these fantasies by expressing them in some public way. The most empowering thing a woman can do is say, unapologetically, “I choose this; I want this.”
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