I love everything here, including things I typically hate, i.e. hipster-y fashion, canned lighting and Toilet Paper Magazine–from whence this emerges.

Yes, cunnilingus being one of my favorite things has a lot to do with it and the balance consists in the way she’s looking down, watching what her partner is doing to her.

Add this to the list of things I would love to do ASAP with a(ny) willing partner. It’s been entirely too long for me.

Honestly, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the rest of the images in this series or the other visual output by Damien “Elroy” Vignaux; there is definitely something special about this one image, though.

I’ve seen lots of other shots like this but never in such dying light with attitudes of come hither sexy and coy, aloofness (or it could be resignation– today has not be the best w/r/t my ability to match words appropriately with contexts).

It also illustrates another point close to my heart–in the age of mass proliferation of visual culture, cyber bullying and revenge porn, there are certainly people who want to and should be able to post nude selfies and maintain some sense (which is probably nothing but a delusion) of anonymity. To that end, people shoot themselves from the neck down, producing garishly decapitated images. But seriously there are any number of ways to exclude your face from the visual field of the frame while keeping your body intact. This is one of the most creative examples I’ve ever encountered.

hassnaamohamed:

Extraordinary people are, ordinary people by Hassnaa

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Hossnaa Mohamed’s illustrations are not unlike look books from those trendy nationwide chains flinging promises of faux indie cred with their shitty threads.

Were this just another hit-and-run denunciation, it would perpetuate the same sort of hollow vapidity it means to critique.

There’s something altogether more heartfelt here, however: the so-cool-it-bleeds haute couture façade of sleek, clean lines remain but are instead imbued with self-conscious anxiety—the cool is beset by the awkwardness.

It’s staggeringly familiar: wanting to be wanted, one reach for some vaunted ideal of cool touted; while what precisely what makes one cool is the same thing insisting one isn’t.

Pointing out problems is one thing. Pursing the inversion of the present order is another. Neither effort accomplishes much of anything. To truly subvert requires the fundamental alteration of the conversation.

Ms. Mohamed’s work is not only subversive as fuck—it’s sexy as hell.

rawpix:

May21s†♥mirror/†he…mind(Daniel Schaefer)★

Roulé

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This interior—with its Spartan-with-Bohemian-pretenses—is reminiscent of my shitty, first-post college apartment in NYC.

What’s more startling is the resemblance of the young woman to the lover with whom I shared much of my time in that apartment. She, who in the pauses between our lovemaking, would crawl kneel o check the message on her phone she’d leave charging on the floor just like this.

The composition has an imprecise, snapshot immediacy which would almost certainly have appeared stale and uninspired were it not for the mirror’s reflection adding some much needed depth. Yet, what this image nails is presenting an ideal scale for everything the image contains.

Although she is kneeling, the frame is only slightly taller than she would be if she were standing. If she stood, the frame would have to move in order to contain her. In other words, she is the frame’s anchor—not vice versa; she agency in inhabit a space with implicit instead of merely appearing as an ancillary decoration.

I find this both—and in equal measure—problematic and arousing.

First, it’s troubling that the scene is presented devoid of context. This could be consensual BDSM play or torture porn.

A part of me assumes, instinctively—given the extremity of the actions depicted, the implication of the scissor clamps dangling from her right nipple as well as the fact that the scene was documented and is now circulating the Tumblr-verse—consent was sought and explicit verbal affirmation given.

My concern is that no one should ever assume anything when it comes to consent.

Thus, a relationship is established between the clip and its audience wherein the predispositions and desires fill in the blanks. In other words: someone like myself—who holds consent as the minimum requirement for sexual expressions—chooses to trust that this shares my ideals. Whereas, another individual looking for torture porn, trusts that there is no need for any suspension of disbelief.

This everything-to-everyone tact bothers me even more than the assumptions with regard to consent; however, it also sheds some light on what turns me on.

I am not really into BDSM although lately I have been posting a good bit of it. I think that has to do with the fact that I sort of have this running argument in my head about which presents first: consent or trust.

And while I cannot dismiss the fact that the thing I like most about sexually explicit imagery is seeing people surrender to whatever they need to get themselves off, what gets me about this image is that it insists that I trust it even though trusting it makes me more than a little uncomfortable, what makes the fluttering rise and fall of her chest as pliers twist her nipple a full 180 degrees clockwise.

raynetupelo:

Rayne Tupelo (self-portrait)

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You really ought to be following image maker/model Rayne Tupelo if you aren’t already.

Her modeling work exemplifies an unusual comfortable-in-her-skin explicitness you don’t often see.

As comely and edgy as her modeling work is, for me it takes a back seat to her images. Her experience before the camera almost certainly defines how she operates behind it. She shoots models with varying body types and while she does not demanding the same level of openness from them that she expects of herself, her portraits are shot through and through a precocious acceptance of/respect for vulnerability and beauty.

If I could ever get up the courage to photograph complete strangers (or you know, get behind a camera again for that matter), although I’m a fan of Cam Damage, Nettie Harris and Kara Neko, I’d want to work with Ms. Tupelo.