Source unknown – Title unknown (201X)
I have no idea where these images originated and that’s truly unfortunate. They’re hardly flawless–the poses are a bit too marked by self-conscious contrivance; however, they do feature carefully coordinated lighting design, a clear sense of purpose and although perhaps not intentional: there’s a sense of reflexive connection between content and context (i.e. the incisive sense of well-worn procedure in tandem with the carefully considered attention to detail).
It’s possible I’m projecting my own OCD tendencies onto this photo set. I’m very much a creature of habit. I’m very predictable and if someone knows my schedule, you can predict where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing with 100% accuracy give or take a seven or so minute deviation on either side.
I’ve always been like this. It’s part of how I’ve learned to survive in the desert of the real. There’s comfort in knowing the train arrives at this time and takes this long to get me where I’m going. Any delays, deviations, etc. cause me intense stress.
I get agitated when folks with a hippy bent preach new age/Buddhist mindfulness at me. It’s like my default setting is what such folks actively pursue. I’m constantly trying to be less aware of every goddamn little piece of sensory input screaming for a piece of my immediate focus.
What’s ironic to me is that my all this rigorously circumscribed need for order, predictability and certainty is less about iron fisted control. It’s like that Baudelaire quip about remaining boring, ordered and dull in life so that you may be exceedingly violent and unpredictable in your creative work.
The regimentation I cultivate in my own life is really a means to an end. To return to the metaphor of trains–with their timetables and presumed correlation to said timetables–it’s almost always the days where I’m merely going through the motions out of habit, and am following a particular thought that takes an unexpected turn that captivates me. I’ll completely forget that I’m on a train and end up four or five stops beyond where I meant to disembark. (As much as I crave order and hate when things go awry, I never mind these lapses. What they offer in insight is more than equal to the resulting frustrations of missing my stop and running late to appointments.)
What does this introspective speculation have to do with anything? Well, I think my need for predictable rituals as a defense against the mundaneness of daily exigencies is an itch that I don’t usually feel gets scratched by explicit depictions of sexual expression. Except these images appeal (a great deal, actually) to the order seeking side of my brain.
And I can’t help but think how aspects of my own sexual expression are similarly circumscribed. As an adolescent, masturbation was highly ritualized for me. (I’m not sure if it’s the OCD tendencies or being raised super religious… I think I could also point to my druggy years with all that focus on set and setting.)
It reminds me of something my friend Amandine said to me about attraction. Trying to seduce someone by making them want you is the wrong course of action. Instead it’s better to make them feel comfortable sharing time and space with you.
That’s the other thing about this that appeals to me. So much pornography hinges on a sort of heteronormative checklist of activities being ticked in a proscribed order. It’s about showcasing particular information–without any sort of consideration as to why this information as opposed to that information. In other words, matters of inclusion vs. exclusion are dictated by notions of what will appeal to the broadest set of viewers possible.
I’m much more interested in things that interrogate why something is being showcased over any number of other things. And these images have a strong feeling of what I’m being showed are not just things that turn the author on, there’s a great deal of effort put into presenting those things as a series of decisive moments in an erotic progression.
So yes, the attention to detail in the set design and lighting orchestration speak to creating a sense of context. The presentation of decisive moments fosters a sense of documentary objectivity. (This isn’t exactly well-managed from the point of the subjects–whose poses seem self-consciously contrived.) But it does seem to be about creating a comfortable space as a starting point and emphasizing concrete ritual procedure in a carefully considered fashion. And that feels honest and affirming of my own experience in a way that porn never really offers me.