Erotophoria

I’m all for applying a bit of the artistic brush to an otherwise pornographic piece in an attempt to make works with a deeply human interest more beautiful, but when does an artistic strip tease become so artsy it’s no longer sexy?

Walrus made a few interesting points in his blog as he showcased a video which turned the art of striptease into a mockery. Throw in a mess of visual devices which served no purpose other then to massage the camera wielders’ own ego while some hot piece of ass tries to get sexy and we have brilliance, right!?

I completely agree with Walrus on this issue. A striptease, like all forms of erotic art should be about one person interacting with another - a performer giving to a recieving viewer. When business or technology or even artistic values becomes paramount to that deep, human communication art suffers.

Check out Walrus’ video then take a look at this bit of erotic self expression:

Seems to me the point of this message comes across all too clear - Canadian Girls are Hot! Or am I wrong on this?

~Virgohippy

If the desire for sex is a side effect of viewing ancient Roman art, even when sex has been removed from the collection, should we still fear the artwork?

I visited a museum a short while back with a friend. While there the two of us noticed quite a few randy couples kissing and groping in public in a fashion we don’t see too often here in the States. My friend and I must have been equally influenced by some invisible force because we were hard pressed not to use a few quiet corners ourselves.

The ancient Romans viewed their erotic art as humorous and funny and commonly displayed it in public like the more contemporary collection of Korean statues having sex in a park Simon mentioned in his blog. Yet the museum curators sterilized an ancient culture and eliminated all pieces of erotic art from display.

Their motivation seems foolish to me. If I were to walk down a park path and see a depiction of a couple struggle to have sex while upside down yet still upright I would laugh. I wouldn’t tear off all my clothes and rape my companion. For that I’d wait until we got home. I need no inspiration.

Where is the harm in a good laugh at no one’s expense? Or were those aroused and stimulated couples milling about in a museum on some bright and sunny spring day somehow magically influenced by the perversions of artists dead for hundreds if not thousands of years, even though those artists’ works were hidden from display?

~Virgohippy