It’s so grey and rainy today, I’ve got all my daylight bulbs illuminating my work area and it’s still so dark and grim I ust can’t summon up the will to paint so I’m just going to write a bit about my life in the real world. Yesterday the man came to read the meter and put a card through the door saying he’d be back this morning.
Recently I rearranged my house so there’s no route through straight to the back door and everyone has to come through my front room, kitchen, and studio to get there. There’s no back gate and the meter is just outside the back door so short of hiding everything I’m doing and taking everything off the walls I’m about to deal with anything from confused embarrassment, wide eyed voyeuristic interest and a barrage of questions (see previous posts)
I rarely get a hard time from anyone who actually sees me and what I do in close proximity, the mystery is taken out of it. I’m clearly not painting in the nude, or a man pretending to be a girl so that’s half the battle.
But maybe I sometimes do feel a bit apologetic about it. Contractors and salespeople are generally male so I don’t get any real hostility or suspicion from these strangers who come into my house but I do have a sinking feeling when I know I’m going to have to say something. I wonder what this one will be like.
As you can see from my post photo today I’m pining because I’m not going to erotica at olympia this year. I’d have known so much better this year what to paint for that particular exhibition and I’m sad not to be going. I’d enjoy it so much more if I did it again. And I’ve never seen Dita Von Teese live, that would be so amazing. And the shopping, all those goodies I could use in my work. Shoes! Corsets, masks, feathers…. I’m sulking.
NO! I really don’t. Unless you’re paying me to paint it. Strangers offer me this delight all the time. I could watch men from Swindon to Timbuktu with cheap webcams directed zipwards to a disappointing pixellated member all day if I wanted.
How inspiring that would be.
Because…… they’re just not as nice to paint. I prefer painting smooth dogs to fluffy dogs and light coloured horses rather than black ones. They’re easier and more satisfying. I identify with the subject.
And… most importantly, they are less trouble
This is the question I’m asked the most. Firstly there is an enormous difference between nude art and erotic art at it’s extremes. Clearly there is also a crossover point. Maybe I’m generally close to the centre. I have a few pieces of work I’d argue are fit to be seen in public places. Most of my work is sensual and erotic rather than verging on the pornographic.
But why is that what I’ve chosen to paint? I like it, I like the feeling of it. I’m interested in the change in the way women represent themselves. Being told that I should leave such images in the domain of pornographers and porn stars and go off and paint flowers just makes me more determined than ever to carry on. I like flowers too by the way, I just don’t enjoy painting them as much.
The effect on men doesn’t occur to me. I have mostly female friends and so the people who see my paintings close up are girls. We just don’t see it as dirty. Cheeky maybe, fun, sexy.
It’s the colours, the sensuality I like. And the process. Which I’ll address in another answer.
Short answer. Because that’s what I like.
If the question really is “Why do you paint erotic art when you don’t come across as a very erotic person and you’re not responding to my flirting or offers of modelling” I’m afraid the answer to that is
“get a grip”
It’s been a while.
Shortly after my last blog post (rant) I just gave up and took time out. I’ve realised it was partly my fault. I hadn’t realised what would happen and this charming naivety led to disaster.
One by one I shall answer all the questions which plague my working life and social networking. We’ve established that I don’t paint in the nude. That’s always the one that made my face wrinkle the most. I frowned even typing it.
Here are other enquiries off the top of my head and I’ll take them all on one by one so if I get asked again I can link straight here and get myself a glass of wine instead of vexing myself trying to find the words.
Here are the questions. The answers may take a while, but check back- they’re coming.
1 : Why do you paint erotic art?
2: Do you get turned on while I’m taking the photos or painting?
3: Why paint women if you are a straight woman? Why not men???
4: Why the pseudonym?
5: Do you want to see my…….?
Before I come back with answers I’d like to point out that these questions are mostly asked by strangers. Male strangers. And the strangest thing is how badly they seem to want the answers. There’s often an anger behind the question that’s very strange to me. Indignance even.
If you follow me on social networking you’ll see I’m now married. If you know me personally, you’ll know I’m not. That’s stopped a lot of the cruder approaches. The reason I disappeared was because I couldn’t deal with men thinking I was part of the deal and that they were paying for mutual arousal rather than a painting and I’d turned down all commissions because I didn’t want to have to pretend. I began to know how prostitutes must feel and I’m notoriously bad at sucking up.
I’m now exclusively on more anonymous art sites and sites mostly visited by women or intelligent men and it’s much easier.
Should I have to justify myself? Probably not. But I’d like to get it all out of my system and then just concentrate on the painting.