Summer is winding down to a close, and while that won't stop me from continuing to enjoy the naked outdoors as much as the weather will permit (and even in spite of the weather every now and then), it does indicate an end to the recreational camping season, and with it, my experiences in social nudism - leaving me to hole up in hibernation (with the heat turned up) until the spring comes 'round again.
But as I return to textile society after a weekend of naked freedom (one last, big hurrah), I am left (as I often am) with many thoughts. The foremost among them being that co-mingling peacefully with hundreds of people, both nude and dressed, all behaving naturally, never fails to reinforce my belief that the taboo society places on nudity is much ado about nothing.
Is there an appeal to nudity? Of course! Otherwise, we nudists wouldn't go to such lengths to reject our textile-based social conditioning. But it's unhealthy to foster the idea that the sight of our unclothed bodies is inherently traumatizing, or that permitting people to dress or undress themselves freely is an indication of the collapse of civilization.
If you have a problem with nudity, then you have a problem. I want to live in a world populated by those sorts of people I know who are rational and mature enough to enjoy life nude - or at least permit others that freedom - reasonably and responsibly, and with no small measure of delight, as I do.
I am also left with the typical frustrations regarding the apparent contradiction between nudism's commitment to body acceptance and my aesthetic sense as an artist (and human being), as well as the lifestyle's thorny relationship with photography.
To be sure, the majority of the nudist demographic do not have cover model looks, but every so often you come across someone who does, and being able to see them more "fully" than you would in textile society can be quite inspiring, although I hardly feel that it's an appropriate context in which to attempt to recruit models (if I even had such a skill), inevitably leaving me with a potent sense of photographer's envy.
But I've been ruminating about a comment [NSFW] I read recently on a nudist blog, citing that "one of the primary purposes for clothing is to hide our physically inadequate bodies as we age," and that one of the effects of requiring clothes is to reduce "the inherent advantage in being young and fit." This being the case (and it makes a certain amount of sense to me), it would seem that by removing their clothes, nudists - even as they are trying to forget the importance of looks (if ever there were a reason to discourage young people from joining in...) - should be all the more attuned to this reality: the fact (blatantly obvious to me) that these young bodies with taut, unblemished skin are, at least in a superficial sense, more physically attractive than the sagging bodies with wrinkled skin.
It's not a nice thing to say, I guess, but it's true is it not? Not that old people (or even older people) can't be beautiful, too, or kind and knowledgeable and interesting in their own way. But if we're going to admire physical beauty (and I argue that this is a valuable thing, although I often find it very difficult to do in modern society), can we not acknowledge this fact? It's a trope and a cliché that "youth is beauty" (although not everybody young is attractive, just as there are attractive old people), to the point that nowadays it's kind of non-PC to say so. We do idolize the physical qualities of youth (the mental qualities may be another issue), but then we demonize the people who openly admit to it.
Especially when the thorny subject of sex arises - and although there is nothing intrinsically sexual about nudity, it's very hard to separate the two subjects in the public consciousness. So when we begin to talk about youth and naked beauty - the aesthetic perfection of the human body in its youthful prime, before age has ravaged it - what should be a self-evident truth about nature becomes a controversial statement: that young people's naked bodies are attractive, and ought to be noticed and documented and admired. Say this, and you risk being labeled a pervert and a scoundrel.
But as an artist, all I want to do is capture the transcendent beauty I encounter in life so that I may be reassured that it has not gone unappreciated, though in its original form it will not last forever - much as a sunset, though recurrent, is transient and ever-changing - and so that I may share it with others, without being labeled a demon. What happens, then, when something I find beautiful is described by others as ugly? Does my subjective opinion count for anything? Should I be permitted the opportunity to at least present my position, regardless of whether or not others agree with it? And is there no value in depicting things that some people find ugly anyway?
