Well, this is exciting. I actually wrote a post for this blog over a year ago discussing the recent trend of using "trigger warnings" (to warn potential readers about blog articles that might include emotionally sensitive content - most frequently involving sexual assault). But my stance was actually against using trigger warnings, which is a stance that I ultimately felt could be taken as insensitive to victims of sexual assault, so I tabled the post and never published it. But today I found an article discussing the potential harm of using trigger warnings, as encountered by a facility of higher learning. This comment here really sums up my philosophy:
"...some critics of trigger warnings say that higher education is rooted in confronting uncomfortable ideas and experiences. And more practically, critics say, it’s nearly impossible in classes with students with differing sensibilities to define what deserves a trigger warning." (link)
Those are really the two critical issues involved. My blog may not be an accredited institute for higher education, but I am very much dedicated to the values of higher education, and challenging readers to confront uncomfortable ideas is pretty much one of the hallmarks of my writing approach.
Don't get me wrong, I think the heart of the idea of using trigger warnings is in the right place - it's a sympathetic measure to ease the suffering of those who have been through traumatic experiences. I just happen to be a firm believer in freedom over security, and I think that if you were to balance the gains and losses of the trigger warning approach, you'd find that it leans too heavily in the ultra-PC "babyproof everything so that nobody ever gets hurt" direction that we're dangerously headed toward these days. I'm a highly sensitive individual, but even I think some aspects of modern culture are becoming overly sensitive.
But consider, also, the second part of the passage quoted above. As nice as it might be to litter media with warnings for the sake of sexual assault victims, don't you think that's kind of a little unfair to other kinds of victims? Or not just victims, but people with particular sensibilities? And how can you possibly cater to everyone?
It's like the issue of censoring porn - images of sex don't bother me, but I hate seeing pictures of spiders. So why is it fair to censor porn in order to avoid offending the average viewer, yet people can post pictures of spiders willy-nilly with no restrictions? It makes me feel like people don't care about me and my sensibilities as much as someone else's.
But as nice as it would be to never be exposed to another picture of a spider in my life ever again, that's just not the world I live in. I don't expect everybody else in the world to cater to my fears and insecurities, going out of their way to prevent accidentally offending me or setting me off. I'd rather deal with the possibility that I might encounter those things in the world, and work on my ability to deal with them rather than run away in fear.
And to extrapolate the issue to its logical conclusion, its just not practical to set warnings for everything. So then, by issuing warnings for certain topics, you're basically making a value judgment - that those topics are more important than others. Which has the described effect of isolating people who don't fit into your average "sensibility profile".
But it does something else, too. I don't want to minimize the trauma of experiencing sexual assault, but at the same time, I think that under the guise of sympathy, it's possible to go too far and end up actually increasing victims' trauma, by continuously reassuring them (regardless of their own response, sometimes) that yes, it really was that bad.
I just happen to believe that if something bad happens, the best way to heal and move on with your life is to put it in perspective, take it for what it is, and understand that it's not the end of the world. It doesn't fundamentally damage you. If you tell yourself you can get past it, you're in a much better position to heal than if you keep reminding yourself (and everybody else keeps reminding you, in case you start to forget) just exactly how terrible it was.
And that's something trigger warnings have a tendency to do. It's like a note saying, "this topic is so bad, it needs a warning, because some people can't even handle it." It encourages avoidance. Creating taboos is a dangerous game, because it makes things harder to talk about - and harder to deal with.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Monday, April 21, 2014
The Recurring Problem of Sexualizing Nudism
I know that many nudists would love if this issue could just be put to rest once and for all, but it's not for no reason that it keeps coming up, again, and again, and again. And for all the emphasis that nudists put on the fact (and it is a fact) that the purpose and practice of nudism has nothing to do with sex, it is also a fact that nudity - which is, by definition, an integral part of nudism - can be erotic (or not), depending on context.
And so, I think it's inevitable, if perhaps unfortunate (depending on your perspective), that nudism will continue to be confused with sexuality, on occasion, at least in some people's minds (most often those with the least experience with actual nudism), for as long as it remains true that a person can find some erotic appeal in the unclothed human form - and I believe that no amount of prudist protestations will ever change that.
Now, to reiterate my stance that I've described before, this is unfortunate in that sexuality is still so largely looked down upon in contemporary American culture (and likely elsewhere in the developed world, to differing extents - and quite in spite of its own hypocritical obsession with it), such that any association - accurate or not - with a sexual lifestyle can only serve to discredit the practice of nudism in the eyes of the non-nudist majority.
Most nudists are not sexual revolutionaries like I am, and so I imagine it probably does not hurt their conscience to disparage sexuality (of all but the most conservative variety) in the service of keeping the image of nudism squeaky clean. To be exact, I do not stand in opposition to their goal of legitimizing nudism, I just don't think that disparaging sexuality is a worthwhile sacrifice to reach that end. Because, although I absolutely agree that mainstream opinions on nudity and body image and related topics are troubling, and that a nudist approach would be far healthier, I think that our attitudes toward sexuality are also toxic, and in need of a possibly even more immediate reappraisal.
Well, I wouldn't have brought this up if I were just going to reiterate points I've made before. An insight came to me recently, that allowed me to put the issue in perspective, by imagining its comparative application to other matters. Sometimes one can get so focused thinking of an issue in one context, that he becomes bogged down with the specific details of that case, and fails to see its application in other contexts, which might in fact provide new insight into the problem.
The problem, if we are to call it that, is people making sexual associations with nudism. This can occur in the form of people attending nudist functions with entirely the wrong expectations, or - probably more prevalent - people reacting to or "utilizing" nudist media (including images and accounts or even fictionialized stories) with a sexual mindset. I think the first case is more problematic, but I believe the (wishful) desire to eliminate such misunderstandings is not sufficient (either in theory or application) to eradicate all instances of the second case.
As a matter of fact, I don't believe the second case is really all that problematic, as long as it is kept in check. Which is to say that those who do have reason to 'sexualize' nudist media in their minds, for whatever personal gains they may have in mind, ought to have the freedom to do so, so long as it is made clear in the greater discourse (and this is where the frequent corrections that nudists make come into play) that this is a "non-canonical" interpretation of the lifestyle. People are, after all, free to think what they like - even when they are wrong. What's important is that someone is around to demonstrate the truth.
But if we think about it, this "problem" is not limited to nudism. I'm sure that, if you take a second, you can think of other examples of things - lifestyles or products or concepts - that are frequently sexualized by a subset of the population (even if a small, perverted minority), not necessarily to their greater benefit. The only difficulty, in this case, is in identifying those targets who do not have it in their interest or intent, whatsoever, to be viewed in a sexual light.
The fashion industry, for example, can't credibly claim to be entirely asexual in its intentions (unless you isolate specific subsections of it). On the other hand, some people (on either side of the production line) may be made to feel uncomfortable by the sexualization of certain types of footwear, as may frequently be done by those who identify as foot fetishists. How this reflects on those creating and wearing the shoes is the question to ask - and I think the mature response would account for the great diversity of opinions and purposes that such things may be created or utilized for - including, but not limited to, a sexual purpose.
All that remains is the lingering question of whether this incidental "sexualization" actually harms the greater reputation of the thing in question, and if so, by how much. And I would argue that the answer depends largely on how much weight we give to sexual matters, and the nature of our attitude towards them. I would not be surprised if a prude were to express disgust at the thought that another may consider something they have or do to be sexual when they do not. But as for myself, for example, the thought wouldn't faze me because, a) it's not really that big a deal, and b) I'm happy for other people to find ways to get their rocks off, whether it's "traditional" or not.
I mean, think about it. Does it keep you up at night knowing that some people use beds as a prime location for their sexual practices? No? How much of that is because it's a practice you're socially accustomed to, and not unlikely have engaged in, more or less regularly, yourself? What about cars - do you feel uncomfortable getting in the back seat of a car because you know others use that location (maybe not in that specific car, but one just like it - then again, you never know) for sexual liaisons? Neither of these examples, by the way, prove that beds and cars are necessarily designed with sexual performance in mind, or that the majority of instances in which the majority of people use them are sexual in nature.
In a lot of these instances, though, maybe there's not much of a problem because most people don't consider such things to be sexual most of the time. The reason it's such a problem with nudism, then, is maybe because people do often equate nudity with sex. There is obviously no difficulty in the average person seeing the sexual appeal of a naked body, the problem might lie more in people having trouble understanding how a naked body can be non-sexual. Although - and maybe this is due to my own nudist experience, but - I don't see what the difficulty is. I think that most people do, in actuality, understand that not all naked bodies are sexy. Hence the frequent comments about how gross nudism must be.
Well, yeah, if you were to ask me - although it depends on circumstance and who you happen to be hanging out with - most of the time, and on average, nudism is about as [un]sexy as walking in on your grandparents climbing out of the bath tub. I think maybe the difficulty for most people is understanding why, if the only two things nudity can be is sexy or gross, and nudism is "absolutely not about sex", then why do people get so excited about something that is akin to seeing your grandparents naked? And don't you think they're probably just trying to cover up some kind of secret orgy or something - because that would be more believable?
As a nudist, it's hard dealing with the way non-nudists sometimes treat you. The other most popular yet unflattering interpretation is that there's something wrong with the nudists' heads, that they think for some reason that they have to wander around without their clothes on - like a mental patient or something. Of course, the truth is neither one of these, and encompasses the belief that nudity can have another appeal, one that does not fall under the category of either "sexual" or "gross". Although I would argue that it could be considered "sensual" - but in the sense of engaging your sense organs, and not your sex organs.
Sensuality and Eroticism
Despite its colloquial definition, a "sensual" experience is one that engages the senses. This could include a walk through a flower garden, dinner at a fine restaurant, or a night at the opera. But I like to emphasize experiences that have a tactile focus - for as important as touch is, I feel that it is often neglected in favor of the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes we more consciously encounter in the world. In this sense, nudism is an intrinsically sensual experience - for in casting off our clothes, we become reacquainted with the texture of our world - we begin to feel not just with our hands, but with our feet, with our bottoms, and with the remaining fraction of the entire surface area of our skin.
As you can probably imagine, a sensual experience is not intrinsically erotic, although we have been rightly conditioned to categorize erotic experiences as being sensual (for they usually are). Surely, sensual experiences can be erotic, and I think that this is especially true with tactile experiences - particularly when specific areas of the skin are stimulated - such as the erogenous zones, but also those areas that are frequently covered up, and thus denied that tactile communication with one's environment. This is how nudism can absolutely be an erotic experience, in a way that is neither intentional nor sexually explicit, but that I think is an enjoyable and legitimate part of the experience of nude recreation.
And so, I think it's inevitable, if perhaps unfortunate (depending on your perspective), that nudism will continue to be confused with sexuality, on occasion, at least in some people's minds (most often those with the least experience with actual nudism), for as long as it remains true that a person can find some erotic appeal in the unclothed human form - and I believe that no amount of prudist protestations will ever change that.
Now, to reiterate my stance that I've described before, this is unfortunate in that sexuality is still so largely looked down upon in contemporary American culture (and likely elsewhere in the developed world, to differing extents - and quite in spite of its own hypocritical obsession with it), such that any association - accurate or not - with a sexual lifestyle can only serve to discredit the practice of nudism in the eyes of the non-nudist majority.
Most nudists are not sexual revolutionaries like I am, and so I imagine it probably does not hurt their conscience to disparage sexuality (of all but the most conservative variety) in the service of keeping the image of nudism squeaky clean. To be exact, I do not stand in opposition to their goal of legitimizing nudism, I just don't think that disparaging sexuality is a worthwhile sacrifice to reach that end. Because, although I absolutely agree that mainstream opinions on nudity and body image and related topics are troubling, and that a nudist approach would be far healthier, I think that our attitudes toward sexuality are also toxic, and in need of a possibly even more immediate reappraisal.
Well, I wouldn't have brought this up if I were just going to reiterate points I've made before. An insight came to me recently, that allowed me to put the issue in perspective, by imagining its comparative application to other matters. Sometimes one can get so focused thinking of an issue in one context, that he becomes bogged down with the specific details of that case, and fails to see its application in other contexts, which might in fact provide new insight into the problem.
The problem, if we are to call it that, is people making sexual associations with nudism. This can occur in the form of people attending nudist functions with entirely the wrong expectations, or - probably more prevalent - people reacting to or "utilizing" nudist media (including images and accounts or even fictionialized stories) with a sexual mindset. I think the first case is more problematic, but I believe the (wishful) desire to eliminate such misunderstandings is not sufficient (either in theory or application) to eradicate all instances of the second case.
As a matter of fact, I don't believe the second case is really all that problematic, as long as it is kept in check. Which is to say that those who do have reason to 'sexualize' nudist media in their minds, for whatever personal gains they may have in mind, ought to have the freedom to do so, so long as it is made clear in the greater discourse (and this is where the frequent corrections that nudists make come into play) that this is a "non-canonical" interpretation of the lifestyle. People are, after all, free to think what they like - even when they are wrong. What's important is that someone is around to demonstrate the truth.
But if we think about it, this "problem" is not limited to nudism. I'm sure that, if you take a second, you can think of other examples of things - lifestyles or products or concepts - that are frequently sexualized by a subset of the population (even if a small, perverted minority), not necessarily to their greater benefit. The only difficulty, in this case, is in identifying those targets who do not have it in their interest or intent, whatsoever, to be viewed in a sexual light.
The fashion industry, for example, can't credibly claim to be entirely asexual in its intentions (unless you isolate specific subsections of it). On the other hand, some people (on either side of the production line) may be made to feel uncomfortable by the sexualization of certain types of footwear, as may frequently be done by those who identify as foot fetishists. How this reflects on those creating and wearing the shoes is the question to ask - and I think the mature response would account for the great diversity of opinions and purposes that such things may be created or utilized for - including, but not limited to, a sexual purpose.
All that remains is the lingering question of whether this incidental "sexualization" actually harms the greater reputation of the thing in question, and if so, by how much. And I would argue that the answer depends largely on how much weight we give to sexual matters, and the nature of our attitude towards them. I would not be surprised if a prude were to express disgust at the thought that another may consider something they have or do to be sexual when they do not. But as for myself, for example, the thought wouldn't faze me because, a) it's not really that big a deal, and b) I'm happy for other people to find ways to get their rocks off, whether it's "traditional" or not.
I mean, think about it. Does it keep you up at night knowing that some people use beds as a prime location for their sexual practices? No? How much of that is because it's a practice you're socially accustomed to, and not unlikely have engaged in, more or less regularly, yourself? What about cars - do you feel uncomfortable getting in the back seat of a car because you know others use that location (maybe not in that specific car, but one just like it - then again, you never know) for sexual liaisons? Neither of these examples, by the way, prove that beds and cars are necessarily designed with sexual performance in mind, or that the majority of instances in which the majority of people use them are sexual in nature.
In a lot of these instances, though, maybe there's not much of a problem because most people don't consider such things to be sexual most of the time. The reason it's such a problem with nudism, then, is maybe because people do often equate nudity with sex. There is obviously no difficulty in the average person seeing the sexual appeal of a naked body, the problem might lie more in people having trouble understanding how a naked body can be non-sexual. Although - and maybe this is due to my own nudist experience, but - I don't see what the difficulty is. I think that most people do, in actuality, understand that not all naked bodies are sexy. Hence the frequent comments about how gross nudism must be.
Well, yeah, if you were to ask me - although it depends on circumstance and who you happen to be hanging out with - most of the time, and on average, nudism is about as [un]sexy as walking in on your grandparents climbing out of the bath tub. I think maybe the difficulty for most people is understanding why, if the only two things nudity can be is sexy or gross, and nudism is "absolutely not about sex", then why do people get so excited about something that is akin to seeing your grandparents naked? And don't you think they're probably just trying to cover up some kind of secret orgy or something - because that would be more believable?
As a nudist, it's hard dealing with the way non-nudists sometimes treat you. The other most popular yet unflattering interpretation is that there's something wrong with the nudists' heads, that they think for some reason that they have to wander around without their clothes on - like a mental patient or something. Of course, the truth is neither one of these, and encompasses the belief that nudity can have another appeal, one that does not fall under the category of either "sexual" or "gross". Although I would argue that it could be considered "sensual" - but in the sense of engaging your sense organs, and not your sex organs.
Sensuality and Eroticism
Despite its colloquial definition, a "sensual" experience is one that engages the senses. This could include a walk through a flower garden, dinner at a fine restaurant, or a night at the opera. But I like to emphasize experiences that have a tactile focus - for as important as touch is, I feel that it is often neglected in favor of the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes we more consciously encounter in the world. In this sense, nudism is an intrinsically sensual experience - for in casting off our clothes, we become reacquainted with the texture of our world - we begin to feel not just with our hands, but with our feet, with our bottoms, and with the remaining fraction of the entire surface area of our skin.
As you can probably imagine, a sensual experience is not intrinsically erotic, although we have been rightly conditioned to categorize erotic experiences as being sensual (for they usually are). Surely, sensual experiences can be erotic, and I think that this is especially true with tactile experiences - particularly when specific areas of the skin are stimulated - such as the erogenous zones, but also those areas that are frequently covered up, and thus denied that tactile communication with one's environment. This is how nudism can absolutely be an erotic experience, in a way that is neither intentional nor sexually explicit, but that I think is an enjoyable and legitimate part of the experience of nude recreation.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Hand Me A Towel, Please
[description: a nude figure, partially obscured by a curtain, steps out of the shower]
Taking more advantage of the gorgeous light in this bathroom.
One of the things you have to balance, as a model, when you're posing, is the naturalness of the pose. I learned early on as a self-portrait artist that a person's natural stances are not necessarily always the most aesthetic and flattering. I find, for example, the arch of the foot to be aesthetically pleasing, but to really showcase it in a standing position, you have to raise the heel, and that's not so often a perfectly natural position (I presume that much the same argument can be made about high heeled shoes). The midsection, also, often looks much more flattering with the belly sucked in and the torso stretched out (arched back, etc.).
All that having been said, there is a danger of going too far, trying too hard, which may in fact result in an aesthetic image from a purely technical standpoint, but could produce the impression in the viewer that the model's position is forced and unnatural. Now, this may be more or less of a problem depending on what kind of image you're trying to produce (and what kind of reaction you want). Whereas some figure artists may be concerned more with the shape of the body and the light falling on it, I've always been more of a portrait artist, in that I want to take pictures of people, and not just bodies.
Moreover, I've been thinking lately that my approach to erotic art is one that puts more emphasis on context than just what is exposed in the image. For example, a person stepping out of the shower, a person cooking breakfast in the nude, a person masturbating in front of a computer; the situation is as important as the figure in the image, and I think that that triggers a more psychological involvement and arousal in the viewer than simply an exposed body on display. So when it comes time for me to grab my camera, I like to think not just about "where is the light and what does the figure look like", but also, "what place am I shooting and what kind of potentially erotic situations could occur there?"
Oh, excuse me. I thought I just heard a knock at the door...
[description: a long-haired man stands completely naked in an open apartment doorway]
Taking more advantage of the gorgeous light in this bathroom.
One of the things you have to balance, as a model, when you're posing, is the naturalness of the pose. I learned early on as a self-portrait artist that a person's natural stances are not necessarily always the most aesthetic and flattering. I find, for example, the arch of the foot to be aesthetically pleasing, but to really showcase it in a standing position, you have to raise the heel, and that's not so often a perfectly natural position (I presume that much the same argument can be made about high heeled shoes). The midsection, also, often looks much more flattering with the belly sucked in and the torso stretched out (arched back, etc.).
All that having been said, there is a danger of going too far, trying too hard, which may in fact result in an aesthetic image from a purely technical standpoint, but could produce the impression in the viewer that the model's position is forced and unnatural. Now, this may be more or less of a problem depending on what kind of image you're trying to produce (and what kind of reaction you want). Whereas some figure artists may be concerned more with the shape of the body and the light falling on it, I've always been more of a portrait artist, in that I want to take pictures of people, and not just bodies.
Moreover, I've been thinking lately that my approach to erotic art is one that puts more emphasis on context than just what is exposed in the image. For example, a person stepping out of the shower, a person cooking breakfast in the nude, a person masturbating in front of a computer; the situation is as important as the figure in the image, and I think that that triggers a more psychological involvement and arousal in the viewer than simply an exposed body on display. So when it comes time for me to grab my camera, I like to think not just about "where is the light and what does the figure look like", but also, "what place am I shooting and what kind of potentially erotic situations could occur there?"
Oh, excuse me. I thought I just heard a knock at the door...
[description: a long-haired man stands completely naked in an open apartment doorway]
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