Confessions of a Gymnophiliac

I was traveling the other night by interstate. Alone. At night. And I stopped at a rest stop. The place was empty. Like, completely empty. And the restroom had a gigantic mirror just inside the entrance. I was the only one in there. (Are you sensing where this is going?) I felt compelled to take off all my clothes, and snap some pictures. Don't get me wrong, it's not as though I had to do it. But I wanted to. I found the idea positively thrilling. Not strictly in a sexual sense - as you can observe for yourself. I just think there is a primal beauty and a forbidden sensuality to being unclothed, that can be enhanced, whether by proximity to the natural world, or, alternatively, by juxtaposition with the trappings of modern society. And I like to capture the electricity of that tension in my photography. Is there an erotic component to this beauty? Yes, there can be. I don't deny it. But that doesn't change the fact that this wasn't about sex.

If there had been any indication of a single other person present in the building - inside or outside that restroom - I wouldn't have done it. I chose that time and place because I knew I could do it without anybody ever finding out. At least, outside of the audience those pictures would have, who I could reasonably assume would appreciate (and not condemn) the boldness I exhibited. It was a closed location, with only one entrance. I could hear if somebody was coming, with what I judged would be enough time to dip into a private stall (where I had hung my clothes), so that nobody would suspect a thing. And, being a restroom, I knew (at least, I hoped) there were no security cameras in there.

Hypothetically, I would have been thrilled to have left the restroom while still naked, and wandered the rest stop. Taken some pictures standing beside the vending machines. Browsing the stacks of brochures. Sitting on a bench. Exiting to the outside through the automatic doors. But the danger of being spotted increases exponentially as soon as you cross the threshold of that restroom. There would have been no time to set up a camera. A high likelihood of being seen by staff or other visitors, long before I had a chance to hide. And near certainty that I would be caught on a security camera, with recorded proof of my mischief. (Not a heinous crime, mind you - just... mischief).

[description: a sculpted figure stands naked from head to toe in a public restroom]

I know this isn't normal. Most people don't have these inclinations. Such thoughts don't run through their heads. And even if something were to cause them to contemplate such a bizarre scenario (as wandering naked through an interstate rest stop - or a grocery store, or a laundromat, or a hotel lobby, or any public place), it would be met with confusion, if not outright horror. Is there something wrong with me? Not just that I have these feelings, but that I am somehow able to justify them in my mind as being less than the antisocial compulsions of a lunatic? Is it not relevant that their purpose seems to be something other than simple sexual gratification? That I'm conscious of the need and the value of making an effort to avoid being a public nuisance (whether or not that's just a self-defense mechanism)?

The problem is, there's no context in our society for these kinds of behaviors. It makes me feel alone. But more than that, it leaves me in confusion, to wonder what's wrong with me. (Because there has to be something wrong, right? I couldn't simply be expressing a wonderful if rare example of human diversity, could I?). It seems related to nudism - the interest in living life, and engaging in normal activities, without clothes. Yet I have enough experience with how nudist communities respond to expressions of these kinds of fantasies - with criticism, revulsion, and ostracism - to know no kinship will be found there. People like myself are readily labeled exhibitionists, and while that may not be completely untrue, neither is that a community with which I find fraternity. The lack of sexual motive. The effort to which I want to avoid being exposed. Not to mention the unfair (and unfairly cruel) stereotypes which are used to classify exhibitionists as subhuman, not worthy of understanding, much less sympathy.

Where, then, does that leave me? I'm okay with being labeled eccentric. An outlier. But human society demands categorization. I want to be understood. Not treated as something I'm not, just because most people can't distinguish the difference. Above all, I want to be convinced that I'm not a monster. It's not enough that I don't believe I am. I could be delusional. I have to explain my case in the hope that others can see me, and come to the same conclusion. To know that I'm not insane. But how can you rest your sense of self-worth on the judgment of others who can't possibly know your experiences and motives as well as you do, and may not even have the interest or the capacity to care? It's a cruel fate. But therein I lay trapped.

How do you extend a hand in compromise, toward a society that would simply prefer you didn't exist? To reach out for help, from someone who wants to stamp you out? And what's the alternative? Crawling around in the shadows, wallowing in loathing and self-pity? What kind of a way is that to live? Or should I prove their worst nightmares true, for lack of a better outlet? Become the monster they've fated me to be. And why do I keep torturing myself by expecting reason, let alone compassion, from the human race? There's no order. There's no justice. There's no meaning. I want certainty. I want protection. I want peace of mind. And it's not forthcoming. I just can't seem to come to grips with the fundamental chaos of living. And I can't even say these things to the people that need to hear them, for fear of what it would do to my reputation...

[description: naked selfie in a mirror over the sink in a public restroom]

I have to acknowledge the possibility that I could be somebody's worst nightmare - imagine, walking into a public restroom and what you find is a naked person holding a camera (although this should be dreadfully obvious from context, I feel compelled to say it because people are idiots - the camera's not there to take pictures of you, it's there to take pictures of me). Especially - and I am loath to say this, but - if they have the "wrong" anatomy (because a penis is really just a type of horn, that proves men's fundamentally demonic nature). I mean, if that's your worst nightmare, I envy your charmed life, but that's beside the point. What's also beside the point is the fact that if I encountered such a person - a person just like me, who is as conscientious of others, as well as committed to the artistry of beauty (and not simply looking to get a kick out of breaking a sexual taboo, all other concerns aside), it would be a dream come true! I can only imagine what could come from a collaboration between two such bodies and minds in sync. Maybe that's reason enough, from the perspective of the masses, to never let such a thing happen.

But why should some of my greatest fantasies of happiness be things I'm not even allowed to want? Is two beautiful people running around naked in public really so horrible a thing? I don't know why this concept intrigues me so. I wonder how much different my life would be if I had normal, un-controversial passions. I'm sorry I wasn't born conventional, like you. I wish I had been. My life would be a lot easier. But I wasn't. Does that mean I don't deserve to live? And if I do, does it mean I don't deserve to be happy? If the world is constructed in such a way that naked beauty cannot appear without being an obstruction to the normal functioning of society, then I want to live in a different world. A world where that kind of thing can happen. And does happen. And I can be a part of it. What's the point of a life lived in misery because you can't have the things you want most? Tell me, how is this thing that I want a threat to the well-being of others? Nothing about my desires depends on the suffering of others. The existence of nudism proves that it is not a foregone conclusion. Our culture is just pre-disposed to interpret what I find beautiful as threatening. Yet it won't recognize that in indulging its neuroses, it is torturing me. Why is their peace of mind more valuable than mine, and my agony less of a concern?

The only resolution to this conflict of interests is either to strip the part of me that enjoys nudity from the core of my being, or to change society to view the human body in a more positive light. (Would that be so odious an adjustment to make?). But as monolithic an endeavor as the latter would assuredly be, it still seems more possible to me than accomplishing the former. Alas, there shall be no resolution. And if I must suffer continuously through all the days of my life, what's it to anyone if, every once in a while, somebody has to suffer in some very small part because I took too daring a risk one too many times? The shit I see humans doing - and getting away with, without remorse, or even reflection - and I have to sit here with this wretched conscience telling me I'm scum because I can't be happy without doing something that might upset someone somewhere sometime. It really is true that evil prevails because good must follow the rules. I wish I could take a pill to stop caring. To shut off my conscience. Why can't I just be content to be human, with all its incumbent flaws, without having to beat myself up because I'm not a perfect angel?

Beauty is Truth

It's an almost universal feeling among at least half of the population. It's our natural, biological programming. AND it's necessary to the continued survival of the species. It's literally our prime directive, and yet, somehow, we've drilled this idea into the core of our concept of civilization, that it's a sin for a man to look at a woman with lust in his heart.

Now, don't get me wrong, I fully support treating women with respect. There is a misogynistic culture in which men seem to revel in abusing - verbally, and worse - any woman that arouses his libidinal desires, accompanied by an undeserved sense of entitlement to their bodies. I think that if your compass causes you to feel pleasure in the fact of another's existence, then that alone, without promise of anything more, justifies the responsibility to treat her well. And, after all, isn't that a better strategy for befriending her, in the hope of being able to spend more time in her presence?

But treating women with respect also includes not shaming them for courting attention of a particular variety. Especially (but not exclusively) when they're not doing it consciously! Because this is how our species propagates, and it's interwoven into the very fabric of our society. The way women dress. The fundamental nature of dance. Things that they learn even from a young age, before they understand the underlying purpose of it. It's not some evil plan. It's just a fact of life.

And then we make men feel bad for feeling good when their biological instincts respond as they've been programmed to. Even when they exercise restraint, and practice good manners. An implication is posed, that there is some sinister intent at the heart of it all - at the heart of physical attraction, which drives flirtation and courtship behaviors. Civilization has taught us that these things exist to bond pairs together. But evolution knows the real truth: that all those precious babies are being made because men are designed to salivate over women's bodies. We should be grateful for it - not resentful of it. Because, without it, we wouldn't even be.

But we live in a culture where protecting the planet that cradles us, and shelters us from the lifeless void of space, is an unpopular stance. So I guess that's way too logical an expectation for our species. Life is already hard. Why do we make ourselves suffer more than is necessary? For the inscrutable glory of some imaginary character? Intelligence is a myth. We're just dumb, hairless apes. How did we ever make it this far? Oh, that's right - because desire is more powerful than shame. More powerful than any civilizing influence. And if the day ever comes when that is no longer true, then that will be the day that we go extinct. The forces of chastity would do well to take that lesson to heart.

The Cross-Dressing Uncle

So, my uncle passed away from an accumulation of health problems this year, and it turns out... he had an interest in cross-dressing. It wasn't, like, a real big secret (my mom knew all about it), but he wasn't very public about it, either. At least not within the family. I didn't even suspect the full depth of it until we were going through his stuff after the funeral this summer. I knew he had a lot of clothes and shoes, but nothing I'd ever seen that would interest me. Until, in a locked closet, we found (in addition to the expected stacks of porn) racks and racks of women's clothes and costumes stacked layers deep, and high heels lining shelves stretched literally from floor to ceiling!

[description: series of fashion portraits modeling dresses and heels in front of a large mirror]

My uncle grew up in a different era. Granted, there's still lots of progress to be made even today. I think it's sad that we sometimes have to hide parts of our selves, such that people don't get to know who we really are until after we're gone (if ever). I'm a pretty private person by nature, but I prefer to live my life authentically. I'd rather be hated for expressing who I am, than liked because people think I'm someone I'm not.

I never had a strong bond with this uncle, for reasons that have nothing to do with this subject (just because two people share an interest doesn't necessarily mean they'll get along), but I do regret never having had the opportunity to get to know this part of him. I think of the stories we might have shared, or the support we could have given each other, being "straight males" interested in women's fashion in a largely gender-conservative culture.

I'm doing my part to pay that support forward, by being the public and uncloseted cross-dressing uncle to a new generation. No secrets, no shame. I'm an open book. And whether any of them develop a similar interest in the future or not, I'm teaching them that there is dignity in gender fluidity, and the importance of being free to express your identity authentically, and to treat others who do with respect, as fellow human beings. And no amount of conservative legislature will ever change that - even if I end up behind bars for teaching kids that you don't have to conform to gendered expectations. Give me liberty or give me death.

Anyway, I've inherited this truly spectacular three-part mirror, along with a bunch of pretty clothes and shoes - finally liberated from the closet. Never before had I seen so many interesting shoes - that were all in my size! I couldn't resist modeling them for you. Just by happenstance, I ended up with the exact same number of shoes and items of clothing, so I tried to pair them 1:1. I did the best job I could, but I had to "shoehorn" in a few at the end. :-p

Tokka Fan Edits

Longtime fan Tokka made these edits of my photos, and I thought they were really cool, so I wanted to show them off (with permission). I love it when my work inspires the creativity of other artists!

[description: series of various photo collages]

While we're thinking about it, this would be a good time to reiterate and articulate my thoughts on copyright. As far as usage of my photos goes, I'm pretty lenient. I know it sounds vague, but use common sense. What does that mean? Well...

I don't mind other people sharing my photos - within reason. Free advertising is great, but don't undermine my subscription model. And make sure to give me credit. I want people coming to ME to see my work, not getting it from somewhere else.

As an example of what not to do, there was an account on Flickr once (this was a little while ago), that was passing my images off as their own, with minor edits that seemed designed to hide their source - like, a lot of my watermarks were deliberately trimmed off.

On the one hand, I was flattered that somebody liked my images enough to want to pretend to be me. But I work hard to create these images. I appreciate being given credit for them.

That said, I am okay with people manipulating my images with artistic intent. As long as you're respectful. I'm a pervert, so sexual themes don't bother me (on the contrary, they can be quite exciting). But if you're making fun of me, or using my images to express an idea I strongly oppose, I'm going to be less happy about it.

You don't technically need my permission to do this, but if you're working with my art, I want to know - because I'd love to see the results! And I'm totally willing to give you credit for your contributions, just as I expect to be credited for what I've contributed (in the form of the images you're manipulating).

I have no intention of passing off your work as my own, not least of all because I don't want your artistic vision to be mistaken for mine. Art is intensely personal. Credit is given where it is due.

But above all, I want to foster a positive and creative atmosphere for other artists to enjoy and even evolve the work I've produced. I want to believe my art is interesting enough to inspire other creative minds!

Fallen Empire

Insofar as the fallen empire of the United States is a world leader in cultural influence (although they don't deserve to be), I'm anticipating some hard times ahead - particularly on the front of freedom of sexual expression. Rest assured, I WILL die on this hill. Nothing will ever stop me from spreading sexual pleasure to the masses, short of locking me up or putting a bullet in my head. But there is probably a lot of frustration coming down the pike, as the Christofascists - emboldened by the stupidity of the American public - clamor to put into place their vision of a sexless utopia. I just want to warn you, so you can be prepared. There is a storm coming. Now is the time for us to brace ourselves, so we are not beaten down by the forces of chastity that are polishing their rifles for the hunt right now, as the Antichrist readies himself to take the throne. We shall prevail, by hell or high water. Or we go extinct. There is no other option. Let us make our adversaries the ones who will go extinct, once and for all time.