A View From The Sidelines

As you may know, I enjoy playing volleyball. It's a hobby I picked up from my experiences visiting nudist resorts over the last fifteen years. There's an annual tournament I used to like to attend, and this year I returned for the first time since the COVID lockdowns. The best part of the tournament is being able to play volleyball nude with other like-minded (open-minded) people, whether you win or lose. But I won't deny that another part of the fun is getting to sit on the sidelines and watch top level athletes - both men and women - perform at a professional level on the volleyball courts, in the nude.

A particular moment sticks out in my mind, that stirred up a lot of thoughts in my head. It's important to me that I describe this situation with tact, because I don't want to give the wrong impression. Between matches, one of the players stood in my line of sight, not ten feet from where I was standing, to rest and get a quick bite to eat. Although these things are subjective, to my eyes she looked incredible. And hers was a perfect, natural beauty - not the manufactured kind that utilizes plastic surgery and excessive makeup in a gross over-exaggeration of femininity, to stimulate men of poor taste who have only one thing on their minds.

As an artist, I was utterly mesmerized by the scene that had spontaneously formed in front of me. A beautiful young woman, completely nude, amidst a crowd of mostly dressed people (it was a bit chilly that day), in a totally relaxed atmosphere, without spectacle. Keeping in mind the typical demographic of someone who is comfortable being naked in a crowd of strangers, as a female under 40 (under 25, even!), she was doubly exotic. Triply, if you include the fact that she was in prime, athletic shape. I had to inwardly marvel at her calm acceptance of those circumstances. What a wondrous thing! I would hate for it to be ruined - for her to receive anything even remotely resembling negative or unwanted attention.

That said, I couldn't get over how picturesque the scene was. If this had happened on a public street, and I were a street photographer, and I'd snapped that shot, it would have been an award-winning photograph. (At the very least, great promotional material for the tournament). The juxtaposition of bodies, the novelty of the situation, the casualness with which it occurred, and the beauty on display... It goes without saying that this would never happen. Not on a public street - and on the grounds of a nudist camp, photography is strictly prohibited. I can't help that that fact stirs up a conflict within me.

Why should capturing an image of such a thing - such a beautiful, positive, and innocent thing - be forbidden? It kills me that people are the way they are - not the people who make these rules, but the people who behave in such a terrible fashion that these rules become necessary. What does that say about our own humanity, that we can't have nice things because we're so fundamentally rotten to our core? "In the face of beauty, evil was lost"? Rather, "by the hand of evil, beauty is lost". Is it so horrible that a scene like this would be preserved, to be shared with people who did not experience it firsthand, and to exist beyond the fading memory within my brain?

Sure, not everyone would appreciate the image for the "right" reasons. (For my part, my appreciation of the scene was predominantly aesthetic, and not erotic - I would admit it if that weren't the case). As I said, I would hate for the situation to have been ruined by poor behavior in the moment. That's something I like about nudism - that we can all hang out completely naked and still behave like civilized creatures. It's the reason nudist camps have tall fences and strict guidelines, despite how free-minded and laidback we generally are. I wouldn't change that. I just wish it could coexist compatibly with the mindset that beauty is a virtue, while acknowledging the potential for photography to be an innocent expression of that, and not solely the vile and existential threat it is perceived to be, in the unfortunate hands of the depraved*.

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*It won't win me any brownie points to say this, but I would argue that most people who just want to snap a picture of a hottie are pretty harmless. So they might add it to their "spank bank"? So what? There's no harm in that, other than a sociogenically manufactured psychic distress, which is born of a fundamentally sex-negative upbringing. Is it because it might be spread around the internet? I sympathize with the fear of being branded with the stigma we reserve for people our culture sees as having "loose morals" (which would pertain to those who willingly get naked in front of strangers, no matter how innocent the context). But that stigma is unjust. Such a fear only reinforces it. And it's not right, once again, to deny ourselves of what little pleasures this struggle that is life affords us, on account of the flawed nature of the human race. If I could nuke mankind and replace it with a more evolved species, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, I have to exist with the knowledge of what could be - the paradise we could be living in - frustrated by a daily reminder of the trash heap we've relegated ourselves to...

The Skinny on Dipping

This past Saturday was "Skinny Dip Day", which - as I understand it - occurs on the second Saturday in July. I was not able to participate (personally, I'd choose a weekday for an activity like this), but I've more than made up for it on any number of other occasions already this year. However, while camping this weekend, I did end up hiking through an unexpected rain shower, and later paid an impromptu visit to a "swimming hole". And it's given me some food for thought. Now, I'm torn between the desire to broadcast my observations to everyone I know, and the fear of how it would reflect on me, complaining about how "unfair" it is that I can't walk around naked in front of other people, instead of appreciating the good times I undoubtedly had.

Since you're reading this here, you know which side won out in the end. That's just not the person I want to be seen as. On the one hand, I'm dissatisfied with the way our culture approaches the human body. I want to change the world. And I know I can't do that unless I speak out, and raise a fuss. But I am not the pivot upon which the world rotates. What little sway I have among my inner circle I wield zealously, but progress is a slow drip. And I have much to lose from a potential misunderstanding, if I press too firmly on a subject that is notorious for being misinterpreted. It's a tight rope to walk, being a counterculture revolutionary, while still maintaining other people's trust and respect. But for the record, here is what's going through my mind.

It's a matter of perspective. As a visitor to this planet, I think I can understand the rationale behind the general prohibiton of public nudity. I don't necessarily agree with it, but I can understand where it comes from. Man is a filthy animal. But few aspects of human behavior confound me on so personal a level as the way in which people will permit their hang-ups about their own bodies to prevent them (nay, not just themselves, but others too) from avoiding the discomfort of wearing wet clothing - clothing that doesn't keep you dry in the first place, and retains moisture (sapping your body heat) long after your bare skin would have dried in the open air, even without the aid of a towel. It's irrational!

In addition to the self-inflicted torture of forced discomfort (not to mention the psychological toll of going through life hating your own body), some of the simplest pleasures in life are denied us when we cling so tightly to our man-made coverings, out of the fear of being reminded of what our anatomy looks like, and the function it serves. Not least of these is a joyful feeling of freedom the likes of which few ever experience in our culture. It sounds like a trite cliche, but take it from one with experience - it really is true.

As an artist, I also like to cite the beauty inherent in our design. What's the point of an attractive body if nobody gets to admire it? That's like draping a tarp over an exquisitely crafted statue! I stand by that argument, even though I'll begrudgingly admit that few of us approach the Platonic ideal of the sculpted human form. However, I'd rather suffer the chaff for the sake of the wheat, than gouge out my eyes to spite the unremarkable ordinary. Wouldn't you? (Don't answer that).

Regardless, swimming is one activity that seems to make a mockery of our usual commitment to so-called "decency" and "modesty". Yet, it seems silly to go only so far, and then still stop short of the finish line, leaving you to your silly towel dance while you try to peel off a wet pair of shorts that clings defiantly to your legs (after which you immediately re-robe while your skin is still damp). Truly, an enlightened race of men would discard such ridiculous customs, acknowledge the dignity in our natural form, and simply swim nude under the open sky, like literally every other living creature on this planet.

If believing that makes me the crazy one, then I don't want to be sane. I just don't want to be labeled a menace to society, for thinking there's a better way than hiding a truth we all pretend not to know - namely, what we look like under our clothes.

Legacy of a Starving Artist

Of course I'd love to profit materially from the art I create. And from a cosmic perspective, I do believe I'm underpaid for the effort I put in, and the quality of work I put out. But neither universal law nor human society has ever been fair.

I obviously don't do it for the money. So, in the grand scheme of things, even were I to be ripped off and die penniless (which I'm pretty sure is gonna happen anyway), I would still be satisfied that I made the art that I made, and that I released it into the world. Even if I don't profit from it.

Its creation and dissemination still represent a net positive from my point of view. Not just because it has given me joy throughout my life - both in the journey (making pictures), and the destination (having pictures to share) - which it has.

But also because the beauty of the unclothed human body is something I believe strongly in. It's something that I want there to be more exposure to in the world. And it's something that powerful forces exert considerable influence to suppress.

It's like we've lost one of the simplest and most satisfying pleasures in life, ever since we left the garden and lost sight of the fundamental divinity inherent to our physical form. And what I'm doing is reminding people of that, even if most of them have fallen from grace and can't recognize it for what it truly is.

I may never be famous or renowned in the art world, even long after I'm dead. But the thought that somewhere, somehow, people might still be passing my images around for generations to come - as an expression of that beauty, and also of the simple pleasure in eroticism (free from the doctrine of shame)...

Well, that would make me happy. And it wouldn't be the worst legacy I could leave to the world, when my time here is done.

Addiction

Nude photography is an addiction. To be fair, there are much worse things to be addicted to in this life. That's for certain. But it doesn't change the fact that nude photography is an addiction.

Maybe you've never tried it - and it might not be for everyone - but I think that running around naked is a lot of fun. You shouldn't need any more justification than that to do it. But being a nude artist is a pretty good excuse. Among other things, it gives you plausible deniability in the case that somebody accuses you of "inappropriate conduct", since we live in a culture that can't seem to separate the beauty and pleasure of nudity from the taboo of sexuality.

Now, in the course of shooting nude photography, every so often you'll snap a picture, review it on your camera, and be blown away by how magnificent it looks. But that doesn't mean you're done. The feeling of accomplishment won't have you packing up and going home. No, the excitement of uncovering something so beautiful will have you wanting to capture another one. So you'll keep at it, and get absorbed in the thrill of the chase. Will the next picture be another sparkling diamond? And who can have too many diamonds?

In the meantime, you'll have more reason to spend even more time running around naked. Chances are, you won't stop until you're exhausted, or it's getting dark and you have to get home, so you can wash up and have dinner. But the next time you have an opportunity - on the next warm day, perhaps - you'll be itching to get out there and do it again. Even if you haven't done anything yet with the pictures you shot last time. And that's how you sink deeper and deeper into the hole...

Is there an escape to this spiraling obsession? I wouldn't know. But please tell me if you find one. ;-p

Filthy Beauty

I know I've mentioned this before (somewhere), but I read an eye-opening book about two years ago (Perv: The Sexual Deviant In All Of Us by Jesse Bering), that spends some time exploring the suppression of the disgust reaction during sexual arousal - a point that's really stuck with me. It's the reason that, to pick out a simple example, some people actually like to put other people's genitals in their mouth (I'm intentionally phrasing it to focus on how weird it sounds if you're not thinking about it in a sexual way). I mean, it's one of those things that's, like, obvious, but putting it into a (more or less) scientific context really helps you to understand human nature (and our behaviors) much better. Anyway, I just had another epiphany related to this subject.

The fact that your disgust reaction is suppressed when you're sexually aroused - so that you'll tolerate, even desire, behaviors that involve intimacy with what can only be described as "gross anatomy", all so you'll be incentivized to increase your chances at procreation - suggests to me that the things you're programmed to find desirable are inherently disgusting (to a certain degree). After all, sticking a body part into another person's orifice and then excreting bodily fluid into it - well, it doesn't sound very romantic, does it? But attraction is the key to the gateway that penetrates the wall of repulsion and body horror.

Why should these things be inherently disgusting, if you're not holding the key? Possibly because it prevents us from fucking everyone all the time - but since evolution would probably not object to this pattern of behavior, I suspect it has more to do with the fact that intimacy necessarily leaves us vulnerable. Not just emotionally. Or to external threats. But physiologically, as well. How better to transmit disease than to essentially remove the physical barrier between two (or more) persons' internal anatomy? Just like how we find bodily waste, or the stench of death, repugnant - largely because avoiding these things protects us from dangerous microorganisms. But in the case of sex, the potential reward is worth the risk (the only thing more important than survival is avoiding extinction). But better to limit exposure to just those moments when it's necessary - i.e., when you spot a hot babe, with whom you might have a chance of making healthy babies.

Anyway, the epiphany I had after ruminating on this fact is that this is probably why anything to do with sex and eroticism is such a taboo, constantly courting controversy, and inviting censorship. What you might find beautiful in an erotic sense is intrinsically filthy, and will undoubtedly be seen as such by anyone who doesn't share your particular sexual tastes. It's not simply that people are being uptight, or have been brainwashed by a puritan religious upbringing (although I'm not discounting these things as contributing factors). It's an inherent byproduct of our biological programming! Which isn't necessarily reassuring (biology is a tough force to counteract), but understanding the problem correctly is always the first step toward finding an effective solution.

I mean, think about it. Human beings (and not just our species, but organic life in general) are icky, gooey, drippy, leaky, smelly bags of flesh and guts. If it weren't for the sheer importance of the role that sexual reproduction holds in our fundamental programming, I doubt we'd even tolerate ourselves for more than a second. This actually bugs me as an erotic artist, because it reveals that the subject of my passionate dedication is rather narrow-minded and ego-centric. I mean, there are standards of aestheticism that approach the objective (at least from our perspective). You can appreciate the beauty of a fine specimen of animal, for example - the lines and curves, the musculature, the colors and patterns - without it (necessarily) involving any kind of sexual evaluation whatsoever. But that driving force of desire that makes an erotic portrait so... potent? Just imagine, if there were another intelligent species on this planet (or any other), what they find erotically beautiful could be unremarkable to us. Or, worse yet, actively repulsive. And of course the reverse would have to hold true. If the virtue of my work can't even transcend my own species, how much value does it really hold, in the cosmic scheme?

On the other hand, it's not even as though all human beings can appreciate my art. My subject is so niche, it's not a majority - it's not even a multitude that appreciates it. Just a tiny minority. So I don't know why it should bother me that hypothetical beings that may or may not exist, and that we probably won't come into contact with any time remotely concurrent with the existence of my consciousness, can't appreciate my work. I guess I just want to believe that I'm doing something that has importance beyond the tiny blip that is the span of my life on the universal clock. But I should be content in the knowledge that, even if it's only a few people, there are others out there who appreciate what I do. And that not only do I find it enjoyable to do, but doing it brings pleasure and excitement to them as well. That's enough, right?

Right?

But I wish, as a society, we could stop criticizing each other for enjoying the things we like that other people find repulsive, especially to the point of not just withholding another's happiness, but ruining somebody's life because of what ultimately amounts to a matter of unbidden tastes. We literally want to put bullets in people's heads because they prefer the taste of salted caramel to cookies and cream.

Gymnaesthetics

I'm coining a new term - gymnaesthetics. It combines the Greek word for nudity, "gymnos", with "aesthetics", the branch of philosophy that concerns itself with the nature of beauty. In a nutshell, gymnaesthetics is the study or appreciation of naked beauty. As a corollary, and taking cue from aestheticism - an art movement focused on aesthetics, or "art for art's sake" above and beyond any pragmatic function - the term gymnaestheticism may be used to refer to the artistic discipline of producing art that is focused on the perceived beauty of the unclothed human form.

In thousands of years of human civilization, and half a millennium removed from the Renaissance, I'm surprised I have to be the one to come along and invent this concept. Now, I know I'm not the first person in the history of mankind to appreciate the sight of a naked body. The subjective experience of human beauty is a nearly universal phenomenon. But in civilized society, there exists a stringent taboo on nudity. And are you really fully appreciating the human body if you're covering part of it up? Yet the clothes don't come off unless it's about sex. Why isn't there a community dedicated to naked beauty, as distinguished from porn?

Nudism comes close, but misses the mark with their politically correct rhetoric prioritizing self-acceptance. "Every body is beautiful" is a self-contradiction, because beauty is inherently selective. Any kind of emphasis on the visual aspect of seeing people naked (and the pleasure it can bring) is criticized by nudists as voyeurism. You're not permitted to openly acknowledge the positive impact of fitness, diet, grooming, etc on a person's appearance. Nudist beauty pageants have become more than passé - they're an outright taboo!

Of course, there are lots of people who appreciate naked bodies in a superficial manner, but it's always myopically centered around sexual recreation. I've never been one to deny the erotic element of naked beauty, but so much gets lost when sex is the primary focus. Sight is treated as merely an appetizer to the main course of touch. Appearance is only a means to the end of getting off. It's like going to the theater to catch the trailers, and then having to sit through a movie you didn't want to watch. Little care is given to the craft and artistry of presentation. People are paired off (or grouped), instead of sharing their delight publicly. It's interactive, when sometimes you want a more passive form of entertainment. And you have to strictly limit your audience, which also restricts your reach.

Is it so hard to let people interpret art however they want, while still letting the images stand for themselves? It's enough that the human body is considered "indecent" and inappropriate for public viewing - with artistic exceptions inconsistent, as well as few and far between. But you can't even comfortably honor gymnaesthetics in private, without carefully vetting potential observers, lest the wrong person get an eyeful, complain to peers and authorities, and then you face the prospect of social reprobation even if there isn't enough of an offense to support legal repercussions...

Clones (Three Different Ones)

[description: three nude figures pose on a rock in a dried up lake bed]

I just shot this image today. (This is what I do). I'd usually sit on it for months if not years before sharing (only because I've got so much else already in the queue), but I really liked it and wanted to show it off. Plus, it generated some thoughts in my head. Three thoughts - one for each clone depicted.

1) I feel like creating images like this one should earn me a free pass to walk around naked with immunity. "See - it's worth giving me this freedom. I'm making beautiful art!" Not only would I not have to sneak around - imagine the interesting images I could come up with in the city!

2) I know that asking my fans whether I'm a talented artist is preaching to the choir, but I can't really show off my best works to an impartial audience for evaluation, because the very subject of my art - nudity - is taboo! But I really want to be acknowledged, and told that my skill has improved, and that there really is something to what I'm doing here. I mean, I already believe it. But I need the psychological reinforcement, from somebody who doesn't just think I'm hot (because - I'm sorry for the stereotype, but it's statistically true - perverts are known to be indiscriminate towards matters of artistic taste).

3) I feel like the images I create are more interesting (because they're novel) than the dime-a-dozen images of naked women you'll find in artist society. But people won't even give them a chance, because they're conditioned to view men's bodies in a certain, limited way. I started this journey with zero interest in the aesthetics of male nudity, but I've totally turned myself around. People are missing out on a wonderful new kind of beauty, because they're too narrow-minded. Maybe what I do helps in some small way. But change takes too long. I'll be rotting in my grave before I can see the fruits of my labors. What's the point of that? I mean, I'll still do it. But what kind of bumbling fool designed things this way?

"What a colossal, immortal blunderer! When you consider the opportunity and power He had to really do a job, and then look at the stupid, ugly little mess He made of it instead, His sheer incompetence is almost staggering."

- from Catch-22, by Joseph Heller

Modesty's Arrow

Outside of gravity's influence, we can move freely through space - in any direction we like. But time moves only forward, and never backward. In physics, this is referred to as "time's arrow". It's related to the concept of entropy, which you can think of - although scientists will tell you this is an oversimplification - as disorder. Closed systems (even the universe as a whole), if left to their own devices, have a tendency to fall into disarray.

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
- Percy Shelley

It's the reason why, unless you put deliberate energy into cleaning, a room will trend, over time, toward disorganization. To keep things in order, you must exercise - as Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody would say - constant vigilance. The orientation of time's arrow may be demonstrated by the fact that an egg dropped from a countertop will shatter into many pieces and scatter across the floor, but it will never gather itself back together and reform its original shape.

The explanation involves probability states and redistribution of the elements within a system. Consider the fact that if you were to mess up one shirt in a pile of folded laundry, it would stick out like a sore thumb; but throw another sock onto a disheveled pile of clothes and you'd hardly be able to tell the difference. It's all quite fascinating, but far beyond the scope of this discussion. I merely want to introduce the concept of time's arrow - and the unanswered question of why it should flow in one particular direction, but never the other - in order to draw an analogy to modesty (with relation to clothing), and its implied moral imperative.

"Decency is a pattern of behavior, not a style of dress."

It seems to me that the question of how much or how little to wear always carries with it some moral baggage, rather than simply being a matter of personal choice. The edict to "cover up" is always interpreted as a moral imperative, while any suggestion to "take it off" is viewed disdainfully as an indecent request. There may be localized exceptions - even whole communities (such as nudism) that create contexts in which this rule is flipped - but they are the exception that proves the rule. Over a broad consensus, the moral evaluation I have described tends to hold. It's what we teach our children, and it's what they mainly continue to believe throughout their lives.

My experience witnessing people telling others to "cover up" is that they always do it in a moralizing, preachy kind of way. It touches on the deep roots of sex negativity and gymnophobia (fear of the human body) and the underlying current of self-loathing that stains our culture. It's as if they're on a holy crusade to "clean up the streets" (does the world really need more Travis Bickles?), and fix other people's "sinful" behaviors, presumably in an effort - no doubt goaded on by faith handlers of various stripes - to guide them towards what they conceive to be a more saintly existence.

Although natural instinct pulls us in the opposite direction (and why shouldn't it?), you don't really see people going around telling others to "take it off" (or similar) - because most people know how such a suggestion would be received (skin exposure is viewed as indecent, and the desire to see more of it is therefore suspect), and have the social consciousness not to want to be perceived as a degenerate pervert. Unfortunately, the type of people who flout society's conventions and impulsively speak their mind anyway tend to be unscrupulous, instinct-driven animals (otherwise they would have put more stock in those conventions, regardless of whether they agree with them or not), and lo, the sordid reputation holds, because there's no polite way in this society to say "naked is more beautiful".

[description: a naked tourist stands in front of a raging waterfall]
A quick pose, before that Amish family glances up from their picnic.

I'd just like to ask, why should the moral value of modesty in dress necessarily have to flow in one direction and not the other? And why does it do so in practice? What religious mythology has been woven into the tapestry of our society, so firmly as to even influence secular culture, about the extent to which the devil reaches his hand into the "pleasures of the flesh"? And why should it have to be that way? We have the freedom to decide our own beliefs; I have the freedom to believe not only that the human body is not evil, but that it is divine, and that physical pleasure is a virtue and not a sin. I have the freedom to believe these things, but if I go around expressing these beliefs, I risk being cast as a villain, and eyed with suspicion.

One of the greatest scientific discoveries of the early twentieth century was Einstein's revelation that space and time are not absolute, but that our experience of them is relative, dependent on a frame of reference. From my perspective, these "modesty warriors" who go around spreading shame and judgment upon those who revel in the celebration of what little joy our mortal bodies can give us - to me, they are the ones who are evil. When there are two opposing vantage points, who gets the authority to decide which one is proper, and which is distorted? Should we simply adopt the one that is more common, or the one whose adherents are the most vocal? Remember, there was a time when most people believed the Sun revolved around the Earth and not vice-versa; a great scientist named Copernicus was vilified by the church for proposing an alternate theory that we now know absolutely to be true.

Without reason, can speech ever truly be free? I would love to be able to feel comfortable expressing my beliefs about the human body. To talk about its beauty and the pleasure it can bring. To encourage those people who I think deserve to be seen, to show off more of their bodies and flaunt what they've got. People can agree or disagree with my opinions on these matters. That's fine. What I can't stand is the thought of becoming a pariah for stating them. Of being looked at and treated like nothing more than a pervert. (Yes, I'm a pervert - aren't we all? - but I'm so much more than that). Or, worse yet, being considered a sick predator, diseased in the mind, dangerous and unholy. All because I bow to the temple of naked beauty, unbound by any arbitrarily constructed social laws of propriety.

And so I remain silent, more often than not. But it has a dispiriting, isolating effect on my psychology. It's not healthy. I want freedom of speech. I'm not asking for freedom from other people's reactions to my speech. That's a strawman concocted by people who claim to support liberty, while hypocritically attacking free speech defenders they accuse of the equally ridiculous notion of only wanting to spew hatred without repercussion. I just don't want to live in a society where people are habitually - to the level of making it a predictable outcome - predisposed toward exaggeration, and maliciously misrepresenting people's views and statements (exacerbated by a cancel culture - which goes by another name: "cyber-bullying").

I don't want people not to have the freedom to come to their own conclusions about the things I say. I just want to live in a culture where I feel safe enough to say those things, with good intentions, knowing that people will evaluate them fairly and without misrepresentation, with patience and rationality - not knee-jerk emotionalism fueled by memes and propaganda designed to manipulate the masses - and with reasonable allowance for thinking outside the box and considering unconventional viewpoints before rejecting them outright. Just like I strive to do.

Do I have over-inflated standards for Homo sapiens, or what? But why should I be forced to settle for less? I want so much more than that. And we're just talking about talking! Heaven forbid, I should try to actually pursue the things that make me happy, and attempt to make my vision of a naked paradise (similar to a nudist resort, but more like an artists' retreat than a retirement community) a reality. I have no desire to hurt anyone physically or psychologically, or compel them to do anything against their will. But some ideas are so dangerous... I fear that, to quote the bard (not Shakespeare, I mean Bob Dylan), "if my thought-dreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head in a guillotine." And that's just for the fantasies alone!

Beauty's Privilege

The truth is, not everyone has a body that demands to be shown off. And, unfortunately, the people who want to show off, and the people who ought to show off, aren't always the same people. In other words, you don't have to be attractive to enjoy exhibitionism, but there are also a lot of attractive people who don't enjoy exhibiting themselves. But none of this should be used as justification for preventing attractive people who want to show off from doing so. I know it raises ethical concerns regarding equal rights (and anyway, beauty is subjective) - who gets to show off and who has to cover up - but that's all stuff we can hash out while we're admiring the eye candy, and not before we allow ourselves to do so. If there is both beauty and ugliness in the world, then we should work to maximize the beauty we get to experience while minimizing the ugliness, instead of gouging out our eyes so we can see nothing at all.

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Whether a person should think about sex when they see someone in a skin-baring outfit is beside the point. (It's perfectly natural for them to do so, but that's beside the point - as I said). Even if a person sees someone and wants to have sex with them, that doesn't justify any kind of inappropriate or uninvited behavior - in other words, harassment - much less assault or rape. Telling men not to think about sex is pointless, but telling women to cover up so as not to tempt men - that's missing the point, too. The only thing that needs to happen - the ONLY thing - is that men need to learn to control themselves. And the best way to do that is to parade women's naked flesh around as much as possible, and simply weed out the men who can't handle it. And by weed out, I mean remove them from society. Throw them in jail, and forcibly eliminate them from the gene pool. That would result in a far more pleasant outcome than policing women's wardrobes, and leading a literally buttoned-up lifestyle.

Destined For Nudist Retirement

So, we're heading in to another summer season, and I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to keep up with my output as a photographer. I still have pictures from January to share - to say nothing of the two-and-a-half year backlog I'm working through. I keep telling myself I'm going to learn how to enjoy nude recreation without taking pictures, but to be honest - and I guess this is something I'll never agree with nudists on - as enjoyable as just being nude in the great outdoors is, I derive a significant amount of pleasure from the artistic challenge of creating beautiful images of naked beauty. It gives me an excuse to be out there, it gives me something to do while I'm out there, and it keeps me in shape.

The problem is, I can't keep up with my own output, and I'm worried that as I grow older, I won't have the stamina to satisfy that drive - and although I might be able to spend my "retirement" sitting comfortably in front of a computer screen, processing photos from summers past, I can already tell you that spending hours upon hours meticulously clicking a mouse is exhausting in its own way, and my productivity is only going to decline with age.

Maybe I should just buy a plot on the grounds of a nudist camp, where I'd have no choice but to put my camera in storage, join a naked volleyball league, and learn to enjoy the immediate day-to-day pleasure of being surrounded by (mostly) like-minded naked people. Even though they would mostly be old and out of shape - as I might someday be (I can't avoid getting old, but I'd like to believe I'll still be able to keep myself in shape) - there's always the promise of an occasional visitor, exceptionally young and fit, to look forward to seeing on the grounds every now and then.

I don't think that makes me a villain (and I think a lot of nudists would agree, if they were being honest). It just isn't fair to lump those who appreciate beauty in with those who would seek to abuse and exploit it. But if that makes me a villain, then we might as well just burn this whole twisted world to the ground. For - to paraphrase George R. R. Martin - only a monster god would give a man eyes and tell him he must forever keep them shut, and never look at all the beauty in the world.

Naked Beauty Therapy

I had been reviewing some photos I'd taken naked in the woods recently - thinking about the power of the effect of seeing an attractive body fully naked in the midst of a landscape, whether natural or manmade. That "wow" factor elicited by the starkness of the nudity, placed matter-of-factly into the context of our day-to-day lives - it's one of my favorite things in the world, and it's a large part of the reason I continue to shoot nude photography.

Then I was standing at the window, looking out at the lush greenery of the grass growing wild in the early spring, and I thought back to a time last summer when I had the pleasure of waking up at camp, and taking some pictures fully naked in the bright morning sunshine, at the edge of a wide, open field. And I got to thinking.

It's difficult to find people with which to celebrate the beauty of the human body. Join the perverts, and they'll want to make everything about sex (and anyway, what you're willing to do counts more than how you look). Join the nudists, and they'll scold you for rationing beauty (while insisting that fat, old bodies are as beautiful as young, trim ones). Isn't there a middle ground?

Where do I sign up to join a retreat where you get to hang out with beautiful naked people, in a way that's respectful, yet honest and life-affirming? What a salve for the soul that would be. I'd pay good money for that experience. Nudism can be that in its best moments, but it's always left up to chance, and you risk being ostracized if you dare admit that you enjoy the view.

I understand why perverts have to hide from nudists, but why do I have to hide from nudists the thing that distinguishes me from the perverts? It's like, on the scale of erotic aestheticism, I'm too focused on attractiveness to be a nudist, but not focused enough on sex to be a pervert. I don't belong anywhere.

If I had any power or influence or money or charisma, I'd open a naked beauty therapy (NBT) resort. I'd hire attractive people to walk around, hang out, and socialize with guests fully naked (guests could be naked, too). While it wouldn't be the focus, photography would be permitted, but only if done openly and with consent of the participants (this would be something I'd look for when hiring). However, people wouldn't be made to feel dirty just for asking.

Why can't such a place exist? Would it just devolve into a sex resort? Why, then, am I so hung up on creating a fantasy that's unrealistic? And why don't I get to have nice things, just because other people would break them? Would I feel differently if I'd had different experiences in my life - like, if I felt capable of initiating intimate relationships with attractive people I meet? Why should I be punished, by my own mind, for not sleeping around? What kind of programming is that?

I wish someday somebody could come along and give me some answers to the questions that have plagued me all my life. I wish life actually had a meaning and an order that we could discern, instead of being arbitrary, and open to interpretation. I wish I didn't live in a society that felt oppressive in spite of its freedoms, made up of barely-intelligent apes who are all too easily exploited and manipulated by the corrupt overlords at the top, for the benefit of the few at the cost of the many. I wish I didn't have a condition that causes even the things I enjoy to stress me out. And I wish I didn't have such eccentric tastes, so I could more easily find people to share them with, and enjoy them without feeling guilty about it.

More than anything, I think I'm just tired of suffering for no good reason at all. If there were such a thing as mercy, I never would have existed in the first place. No, that's selfish. I know I make [a very few] people happy by being here. Is it wrong for me to resent having to suffer for the pleasure of others? I just don't understand why it's wrong for me to ask for something in return. I can't even ask for what I want in life, let alone have the means to acquire it. I've even spent years solidifying my reputation, and searching for alternatives to simply asking attractive people to let me see them naked.

Weirdly, even online, it's hard to find attractive people who want to be seen naked - real people that don't feel marketed as a commercial product to be consumed impersonally. It's like the entire world has a vendetta against beauty, because every time I catch a glimpse of it, overbearing forces are hot on its heels, ready to snuff it out. Religious conservatives condemn the sin of lust, while liberal feminists decry the objectifying 'male gaze'.

I can't seek a purpose in fighting for revolution because I don't even have a side. There's no army to join. I'm alone, and if I were to rise up, I would be squashed like a fly caught between the jaws of a vise. So I have to hide myself, like I have to hide my body, my beauty, my passion, my joy, and pretend to be something else. But why? There's no reward at the end of it all. What is it all for? What horrid thing did I do in my previous life, and why do I deserve this punishment if I can't even remember what it was?

Eroticism vs. Gross Anatomy

I'm not trying to disavow our most basic impulses, but there's so much more to erotic art than "gross anatomy". And I don't mean you have to cover up and be coy. You can show the anatomy. But there are more parts of the human body that are attractive than just the genitals. And there are ways to frame the genitals, to groom them to be more presentable.

Although it has been documented that arousal suppresses our disgust reaction to some degree (why else would anybody want to lick another person's anus?), aesthetics don't go out the window just because our sex drives are engaged. It's about more than just looking at unkempt body parts that are normally hidden from our view. There's a psychology that goes into what we find alluring; a way to stimulate our bodies and minds simultaneously, for a more intense and lingering reaction. That's what erotic art attempts to evoke. It doesn't always succeed. After all, there is a heavily subjective element involved. But isn't it worth the try?

Some people want to keep their dirty magazines separate from the paintings hanging on their wall. Isn't it the very concept of "pin-ups" to merge the two? There's a delicate balance to be achieved in creating a portrait that can stir the loins, while also possessing enough taste and class to warrant hanging above the fireplace. Some say it can't be done. But it makes for a thrilling artistic challenge.

Liberation

Everybody has their own battle to fight in this life. I just want to be allowed to admire people's bodies in a way that is respectful but not repressed, without guilt and shame and judgment. Because people associate it with sexual conquest, which they find threatening or dehumanizing; when all I really want is to celebrate the good vibrations we're programmed to experience from something so simple as recognition of the shape of the human form. Surely, the ability to do so is a gift from God? There's enough suffering in life, and precious little joy. Why do we have to take this source of potential pleasure and twist it into something painful? That is the only true perversion.

Thirsty Eyes

(I wrote this while lying in bed, trying unsuccessfully to get to sleep).

The thing with nudity is, people think "ew, naked bodies are gross." And yeah - I'm sorry, but... a lot of naked bodies are gross. As a nudist, you learn to get over it. That's worth consideration on its own, but it's beside the point I want to make right now. Some bodies aren't gross. In fact, they're magnificent! Yeah, there's a subjective element involved. But there's a certain level of objectivity, too. Consider the advertising industry. A certain model may or may not be to your particular tastes, but a professional artist caters to a generalized sense of aesthetics. Repulsion isn't the only alternative to desire.

So, my perspective is this - these objectively attractive bodies? I want to see more of them. That's it. It's so simple. I want to be surrounded by them on a daily basis. Whether it's people in the flesh (the more effective approach), or photographic representations (the far more practical scenario) - either way. I worship at the altar of aesthetic beauty and tasteful eroticism. And the human body - not just any body, but particular bodies, especially those that have been trained for exhibition - that is the most appealing subject to my eye. I'll take as much of it as I can get. And if there's not enough naked beauty in my life to satisfy me, I'll just make my own.

Pride and Shame

I'm not immune to social stigma; in fact, I'm pretty sensitive to it. So it's definitely a little embarrassing to think that of all things - particularly in light of my intellect and upbringing - I might be remembered (in the final analysis) for how much I like[d] to take pictures of myself naked. But listen, it was a fun and harmless hobby that I initially kept to myself (and, well, internet strangers seeking out that sort of thing, whom I would never meet or have a conversation with in real life), but that turned out to have a rich artistry that I've come to appreciate deeply.

Yes, it's a fine line - tiptoeing between the thrill of transgressing a taboo (while shining light on the natural beauty of something that carries undue stigma within polite society - it's because the taboo feels unjust that I delight in transgressing it; I'm not trying to tear down the fabric of society here) and crossing over into the territory of scandalous indecency. Actually, it can be an exciting dance to perform; and I won't lie, my studies of the aesthetics of the human body have taken me in various directions, in the absence of certain preconceived notions about its "proper" depiction in the realm of fine art, denuded (if you will) of any overt sexual connotation.

But I understand context and audience, and I maintain that there is a level on which nude art may be appreciated, not completely sterilized of its sometimes erotic undertones, but by a somewhat more reserved and sophisticated eye - the way that Michelangelo's David or the Venus de Milo can stand proudly (and publicly) in a museum, to the adoration of any who pass by.

That's not to say that I'm placing myself alongside the greats of art history. I don't even create beauty; I just steal it from nature. In the grand scheme, I don't consider myself to be a terribly accomplished artist. However, I believe I do very well within my limited means. I have no classical training, and mental illness constitutes a significant obstacle to my ability to grow and collaborate within a larger community. That said, I've been working on honing my craft consistently for the past fifteen years, and there has been considerable improvement.

I may not be the best right now that I will ever be, but I also have to consider that age is beginning to place its own limitations on my abilities to work both in the physically demanding capacity of a self-portrait model (which involves a lot of muscle tension and a surprising amount of running around), as well as that of a photo processing editor, which involves a mind-numbing volume of repetitive actions performed while sitting stiffly in front of a monitor - hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and so on, however long it takes until the work is done.

I don't know if I'll ever be better than I am now, but I know that I am better than I was in the past, and even if the best I'll ever be isn't good enough to warrant any kind of critical attention, or even justify the pride I feel at what I've accomplished (knowing every step of the journey I've taken to reach this point), it's all I've got. It's all I have to show for myself. Whether it's enough or not - whether I'm enough or not - it represents all that I am. It's the most sincere and original product to come from my passionate and creative mind thus far in my life. For better or worse, you can take it or leave it. I've done what I can. How you regard it - how you regard me, and the deficit between your expectations and my reality - is up to you.

[description: a nude figure with legs crossed lies on the floor in front of several framed art prints]
But please be kind, because I can't rewind.

Afterword: I wrote this as a creative exercise while brainstorming ways to introduce my family to my nude photography. Not that it's any big secret that this is part of who I am and what I've done with my life. It's just that, when you start taking naked pictures of yourself, it's something that you instinctively compartmentalize from other aspects of your life.

Like, it was originally something I did for my girlfriend when I was a teenager, which makes this all a little bit awkward. But my interest in the art form (which emerged very early on) has evolved far beyond the purposes of my private sex life. I see myself as a legitimate artist, and not just a "purveyor of smut". And the people who are important to me - I'd love to fold them more into that, so they can share with me in the pride of my successes (such as they are), the way people in just about any other line of work (and especially the creative arts) can do.

That is, assuming I'm not deluding myself about whether there is any merit to the art I produce beyond its superficial value as masturbation fodder. If I were to create a great work of nude art - that is not simply erotic (although it may be that), but is technically accomplished and aesthetically satisfying - does it deserve a position on the refrigerator? Or does it only belong inside somebody's locker? I guess you could say that's my goal as an artist - to take pin-ups out of the locker, and put them on the refrigerator. But I have to ask myself, what is my motivation? Am I trying to legitimize an unfairly stigmatized genre? Am I trying to defang a python, and domesticate it so it can be kept as a pet? Or is this all just an expression of my exhibitionism - the desire to display... well, desire out in the open?

But it's not as though I'm unconcerned with matters of taste and aesthetics. And I don't say that just to make excuses. I think people should cringe at the thought of low effort porn being exposed to the light of day (in the privacy of your bedroom, however, you should feel free to go wild). While at the same time, I feel that a masterpiece of artistic eroticism should be plastered on billboards without an ounce of shame. And, I mean, it kind of already is, if you look at the glamour and advertising industries. But there's still this completely arbitrary taboo on nudity. Unclothed bodies can be just as tastefully artistic as a pop star in skin-tight gold lamé (and moreso, if you ask the nudists); it's not about how much is shown, but how it's shown.

Anyway, I'm undecided as to whether I should try to aim for relatability and address the elephant in the room ("I know it sounds weird, but here's what I think is great about taking off my clothes and trying to make art"), or if it would be better to take a more dignified approach and not give voice to those doubts, and just let the people who think it's weird feel like they're the ones who are weird for thinking that in the first place ("if you'd ever studied art history, you'd know this is normal"). I could see the merit in either approach.

Haunted by an Apparition of Beauty

I have this vision inside of my head. It's probably inspired by early experiences of viewing naturist photography, especially from a time long past when the lifestyle emphasized fitness and vitality (instead of uncritical body acceptance - for better and worse).

It is a vision of grace and beauty; lithe young bodies unselfconsciously exposed and nonchalantly inhabiting either the natural or the manmade world (either one delights the senses). There's no sexuality involved; and while I don't see how adding an erotic element would detract from this picture in any way, I must admit that there is a certain intrigue to the concept of a lifestyle where beautiful people perform normal, everyday activities entirely without clothes.

That is, opposed to reserving that outfit strictly for sexual (or otherwise private - in which none but a hallowed few receive the privilege of observation) encounters. For, even as sexually progressive as I am, I wouldn't be comfortable being surrounded by sex all the time. Yet my eyes have never once drunk their fill of looking at beautiful naked bodies; that thirst is unquenchable.

My fantasy is to live in a world where such sights are commonplace. Reality can, at times, approach this utopic vision, but only with great effort, and only in fleeting approximation. It is this fantasy that my photography is engineered to evoke; in my best moments, I can capture a little part of that vision of naked beauty that lives in my head. But, alas, I am not getting any younger or prettier.

Chasing the ghost of that vision, and trying to recreate the excitement I felt the first time it appeared to me, is what keeps me shooting like a madman, even when by all rights I should stop and have a rest. Taking pictures won't bring my dream to life, but so long as it allows me to occasionally catch glimpses of that world, as if through a window, I will continue to pursue. This is, without a doubt, my life's passion.

Some're to Fall

Even though we're constantly being reminded of it, it's still easy to forget - and hard to imagine - that the world looks different to different people. Although I do have an appreciation for fashion, I tend to take it for granted (because it's how I personally feel) that the unclothed human body is the ideal form of beauty, and that clothes are there to frame and accentuate - like the polished backing that sets off a glittering gem - not to cover and obscure. So that, the skimpier the outfit, the better it looks (provided the person wearing it is attractive to start with, of course). Which is why I love summer fashion so much.

[description: two figures stand in a bedroom - one dressed for summer, the other dressed for fall]
Some like to bundle up; I like to strip down.

Matters of taste are notoriously subjective - this I know. That's the appeal of freedom. Everybody gets to make their own choices, and the result is an abundance of diversity. Something for everyone. Of course, it's human nature to advocate for your own interests, but what gets to me is when cultural pressure is applied in order to lock out certain choices. You don't have to like skimpy clothes, because you don't have to wear skimpy clothes. But it's a consistent pattern that people who do (or would, if they had the agency) like to wear skimpy clothes receive a lot of judgment for their choices, often deterring them from doing it.

We're a social species. Not all of us are as fiercely nonconformist, and immune to peer pressure as I am. In fact, I'd wager that most people are not like me in that respect. We want to fit in. We want to be accepted. It takes a lot of courage to buck the trend and stand out, and stick to your guns while doing it. If I were even a smidge less independently-minded, I'd have given up on presenting as the gender I feel like in my heart, a long time ago. I haven't. But I worry how many people are out there suppressing their identity and their happiness in order to feel that sense of belonging that we all crave.

And the result is that the mainstream tends to railroad minority interests. Isn't it enough that these interests are in the minority? Do we have to exert pressure to stamp them out entirely? If it were simply the case that nobody else liked to walk around with a lot of skin exposed, I'd be disappointed, but I'd be out of luck. I could make a case for my approach, but I can't control how other people think. But the fact that there are people out there who would probably join me, but don't, out of a fear of judgment - well, that just riles me up. If you don't like it, don't do it, but leave others alone to do their thing!

And when you put a moralizing edge on top of it - as there always is, in matters that relate to beauty and the human body, which are inextricably entwined with the aesthetic element of our fundamental sexuality - you're rigging the game against me. I can't say, "but it should be okay for people to walk around town in string bikinis" (much less nude) without losing respectability and sounding like a single-minded pervert (as opposed to a connoisseur of aestheticism*). The opponent has, in effect, hollowed out the base of my argument so that merely standing on it causes it to collapse. It's sabotage!

[description: two figures stand in a bedroom - one wearing a jacket and boots, the other in a bikini]
I wanna go where the weather suits my clothes.

*[This might be a tough claim to swallow, as most people are not attracted to most people they encounter. Perhaps I'm being idealistic, but think about the feeling you get when you do encounter somebody you find attractive, and then imagine getting to see more of them. I keep thinking back to pool culture, and how quickly we become acclimated to a veritable panorama of bare skin. Also, there's a confidence factor involved. Self-consciousness may inspire average-looking people to cover up, but it's the moralizing and the slut-shaming that's jealously heaped on people who should be showing it off that feels distinctly unjust to me.]

The reason we're not limited to an academic discussion of hypotheticals here is because it all pivots on the fulcrum of what we're allowed (or, more importantly, not allowed) to expose our children to. Anything that's deemed inappropriate for children is naturally going to take on an edge of taboo - since it's a form of knowledge that will be actively denied of them. To think that such an ingrown notion will instantly disappear the moment they reach maturity is nothing short of magical thinking. The effect is that we will always carry a little bit of shame surrounding these topics, because it's what we were taught in our most malleable years. (For things like drinking and smoking, I have little sympathy, as those are detrimental to the health. Sexuality, while perfectly natural and healthy, is fraught with complications. But awareness of human anatomy? We're talking about the fundamentals here!).

And that is why conservatives* in Wisconsin are currently trying to criminalize nudism [NSFW], despite the fact that science and unbiased reason back up the claim that there is nothing harmful about people being exposed to the human body from a young age. (How insane is it to outlaw the sight of what every single one of us possesses beneath our clothing?). Why does it feel like we're moving backward; that our civilization is regressing? Haven't we reached a point where we can simply be unclothed humans without assuming that it will turn us into unrestrained sex fiends? Or that we can admire the natural beauty of the human body - simultaneously holding its erotic qualities in our mind, while recognizing the distance between our imagination and the reality before our eyes? Clearly, we have not. And I'm growing tired of waiting around for the rest of society to evolve. I didn't get thrown into this American experiment just to die with my dreams unfulfilled.

[description: two figures stand in a bedroom - one dressed, the other nude]
Being undressed is not an adult activity.

*[A note on partisanship. Although these measures far too frequently receive bipartisan support, conservatives rightfully bear the brunt of the responsibility for them. Liberal politicians should absolutely be held accountable for their spinelessness in not standing up to conservative rhetoric. However, saying that they are just as responsible as the party that consistently brings these issues to bear in the first place would be delusional. It has been proven time and time again that these are issues conservative politicians are concerned about (or, more accurately, know that they can bolster their reputation among their gullible constituents by pretending to be concerned about). When you bring a bill to the table that's been disingenuously labeled the "Child Protection Act" (it sounds like a cliché but this is literally the case in Wisconsin), you're guaranteed bipartisan support because the alternative is political suicide. And that, my friends, is what we call "justice" here in these United States.]

Bare in the Woods

[description: series of self-portraits posing nude in the woods with a bear mask]

As a sort of companion to last year's photoseries titled Dendrophilia, in which I spent the better part of the year seeking out and posing nude with interesting trees, this year I decided to recycle the bear mask I'd bought for my Goldilocks-themed shoot last fall, and, in service of my dual passions for naturism and photography, pose naked out in the woods as if I were a bear.

Focusing around rocky mountain hillsides and flowing river valleys, I sought out multiple locations in which to shoot over the summer, where I thought the presence of a bear would be appropriate. And now that fall has arrived, and winter is around the corner - when my love of outdoor nude recreation will be forced into hibernation until the spring - I can close the book on this project and show you the fruits of my labors!

As a nudist, what separates me from the rest of the population is that I'm actually more comfortable when I'm NOT wearing clothes (climate-considering). When I get dressed, it's not for my own sake, it's to make OTHER people more comfortable. And while I can enjoy being naked anywhere (truly, just about anywhere), the truth is, I really like being naked outdoors.

It's not a sexual thing. And it doesn't require an audience (although it's often hard to find privacy on this overcrowded planet). Obviously, weather is a factor, but I love the feeling of the wind and the sun, and the rocks and the grass, without the sensory-dampening buffer of clothing between the elements and my skin. The feeling of primal freedom that comes from being clad only in the sky - especially surrounded by nature - is honestly a spiritual experience for me.

I lament that opportunities to enjoy this sort of thing are so limited, and that even when I can, there is often the fear that, if discovered, my activities would be misunderstood. Because of this, getting naked in the woods can be a conflicting experience. On the one hand, it feels perfectly natural. But on the other, your social conditioning is telling you that you're doing something wrong. So you're sneaking around, hiding from any people you might come across. But then, that's how most of the wildlife behaves anyway.

I enjoy the artistic challenge of creating nude self-portraits for a number of reasons. Among them is the fact that it gives me an excuse to be naked in beautiful locations, and it gives me something to do while I'm there, involving a lot of physical exertion which is good exercise that keeps me in shape.

The truth is, I would pursue opportunities to be naked in nature even were I not an artist. But when I'm able to capture pictures that showcase the artistry of the human body amidst the beauty of our planet, I feel gratified in that it justifies my activities and inclinations, and gives me a chance to share my perspective with the world. So that, hopefully, in the end, people won't think I was never anything more than an inscrutable eccentric or a weirdo pervert.

Although I might be that, too. :-p

Mixed Messaging

As a creative-minded photographic artist interested in online activism, I appreciate seeing the advocacy images people come up with and share on social media. I even like to join in with my own on occasion. But sometimes, I have to shake my head at what I find online. Take the image below, which suffers from a disjointed tone. Ostensibly promoting topfreedom, it talks of equality, but seems to lack self-awareness. The fine print at bottom (a pretentious six lines of copyright for what effectively boils down to a composite of two stolen images) suggests a nudist or body-positive interpretation, but the choice of two impossibly beautiful models undermines its overall message (tip: it's possible to pick attractive models who are nevertheless not quite so out of the ordinary).

[description: a topless woman and a topless man's photos are compared side-by-side]
"Equality Means All Nipples Are Free"

At a glance, one would be forgiven for mistaking this image to be a simple piece of eye candy. And don't get me wrong, these two people look incredible (this would not be a bad advertisement for bisexuality, if not also for crippling self-consciousness and body image disorders). There's nothing wrong with admiring their chiseled physiques. Except that, again, the fine print employs typical nudist jargon to cast aspersions on those who would share the image for more superficial purposes. It's softcore porn masquerading as nudist advocacy, that tries to grasp legitimacy by condemning pornography. Amazingly, the post manages to alienate both of its potential audiences. Nudists will be annoyed by the amplification of unrealistic beauty standards, while porn hunters will be put off by the admonishment of their "sexualized" motives (although let's be honest - they don't give a shit). The only cause this banner flies for is skin-thirsty hypocrites hiding behind the purifying sheen of nudism.

The final squirt of whipped cream on top of this debacle of a wannabe topfreedom meme is the fact that the two photos are specifically pointed out to be of unknown origin, while the person who edited the piece together spends three lines advertising their name and social media links. I respect the creativity involved with pairing text and images together to get across an idea (in another life, I might have been a clever ad-man), but it's ironic in this case, not only in that the result is so lackluster as to cast shade on the author's desire to take credit for it, but that the meat of the post - the two photographs - remain uncredited. Granted, these sorts of images tend to get passed around a lot, and it can be difficult to find their source. Then again, an inquiry on Reddit could potentially yield an unexpectedly fruitful result. But I'd be surprised if the author went to any trouble at all to track them down. Despite the fact that a journey of this kind can be a lot of fun. (It's not much, but a literal 30 second search on Google turned up the name of actor Kellan Lutz - and that's a start).

Can we agree to try just a little bit harder next time?

Freedom Versus Beauty

In a comment on a recent post on this blog, I wrote "freedom is high up on the shelf, but I live and die for beauty." And I was thinking about that. The reason I place beauty above freedom is because, to me, beauty is happiness. And the way I see it, the purpose of freedom is to give us the ability to pursue happiness (since happiness is so mercurial that it can't simply be prescribed). Perhaps freedom has an intrinsic value apart from its utility in steering us toward happiness, but I can say that if I had the ability to be happy at the cost of my freedom, I'm not sure how valuable freedom would be anymore. Isn't that why all these conservatives who are perfectly content with the way things are (or used to be) are trying to take away our freedoms?

Anyway, it led me to an interesting thought experiment. If you had to choose between two alternatives, which would you prefer? A world in which all are free to go nude, at the cost of everybody being ugly...or a world in which everyone is beautiful, but nobody is permitted to go nude? Of course, it begs the question of whether there is any value in beauty if it's covered up. What if I said you could be surrounded by beautiful naked people, but you couldn't take your own clothes off?

I can say I would be hard-pressed to choose between those two alternatives, but neither one would be totally satisfactory. The ideal, of course, is to have both - freedom and beauty. But I do feel as though I'm often made to choose between the two. To spend a day alone and naked in the woods, or clothed with friends? To visit a nudist resort filled with old and sagging bodies, or put on a swimsuit and surround myself with bodies that are less ravaged by age? My solution is to alternate between the two, as opportunities arise. But I still dream of a world in which we can have both, simultaneously...