Although these lack fully differentiated tonal range and the content/ composition announces them as cockshotus vulgaris, there is at least something charming about them.
I am probably being disingenuous–it being unwise to project the subconscious internal on the manifest external and label the result: interpretation–but this reminds me of Peter Hujar’s breathtaking portrait of David Wojnarowicz.
Whether or not that free associative jump stands up under interrogation, I think the common denominator–both depict male bodied individuals masturbating–is applicable here.
Adding masturbation by no means ameliorates concerns over presumptive entitlement associated with male-bodied exhibitionism but in this case the image reads less like look-at-what-I’m-doing-doesn’t-it-make-you-horny and more what-I’m-doing-makes-me-horny-and-I’m-curious-as-to-the-visual-mechanics-of-the-action.
Interestingly enough that does actually lead right up to what attracts me to these images: a very dear friend once confessed to me that although she masturbated frequently, she had only ever made herself come perhaps three times.
One of those times, she hadn’t intended to masturbate, she’d just been curious about her own genitals and employed a hand mirror to ease closer examination.
In her retelling, she didn’t realize she was going to come until it was too late to stop. Fifteen some years later, she still claimed it as one of the three best orgasms in her life.
For me, this image invokes the same feeling of someone explaining their sexuality to me not in an effort to invoke arousal–although if that happens as a side effect, so be it; but to instead share something true about themselves without fear of judgment or reprisal.
I can’t help but find that attitude incredibly sexy.