by Jean Roberta
Please excuse this very late post. On Friday the 13th, I was struggling with the second incarnation of a bad cold that has been circulating through the university where I teach. I caught the first version in March (before Eroticon), never completely recovered, and it seems that made me vulnerable to the second round.
Its probably not a coincidence that winter has dragged on and on here, bringing snow and more snow.
April 12 and 13 were the last days of my three classes, so I forced myself to go, even though I would rather have stayed in bed.
Appropriation has appeared in my life in various forms, and the concept is roughly as complicated as the concept of “obscenity.” In the 1980s, a major Canadian feminist press divided in two over the issue of “cultural appropriation” or “appropriation of voice.” Three white women writers (but if their DNA hadn’t been analyzed, how could anyone be sure how “white” they were?) had written stories in the “voices” of “people of colour,” these stories had been accepted for publication, but then the collectively-run press reneged on their contracts. The Writers Union of Canada defended the three writers. There were headlines, lawsuits, and a lockout. It was ugly.
As a young writer who had recently had a collection of lesbian stories published by a very small, one-woman press, I was terrified. I’ve always been interested in cultures that aren’t strictly my own, and several of my stories could be found guilty of “appropriation.” I could only hope I was too far below the radar of the feminist writing community in general that I wouldn’t be ostracized for life.
At the same time, “anti-porn feminism” was on the rise, but I was also interested in writing about sex. Like all writers, I hoped to find an audience of readers who would enjoy my words, but I could never lose my fear of being “called out” very publicly, and excluded from every community I could possibly hope to belong to.
My fear has subsided somewhat as the zeitgeist has shifted, but I can never forget how easy it would be for one self-righteous person to score points by confronting me in person or in print. As every woman knows, a reputation can be lost overnight.
In the last thirty years, I’ve seen a lot of another kind of appropriation: plagiarized student essays. There are various ways I can check out the originality of the essays my students hand in, and the easiest method is to run lines through Google.
On Friday, an international student (i.e. English is not his first language) handed in a last-minute essay on a contemporary novel that showed an impressive knowledge of ancient Greek literature. I smelled a rat. I had already marked his earlier essay, which was less competently written. To be the safe side, I decided to check them both out.
I should have been much more suspicious of this student all semester. The essay on the novel turned out to have been written by a professional critic. No surprise there.
The other essay, which was definitely written by a student, had been copied from a student-help site. The mistakes I had commented on weren’t even those of my student, and my advice wouldn’t have helped him.
These discoveries didn’t help me to feel healthier. Still feeling achy, I printed out the evidence of plagiarism, attached it to the essays, and sent this material to the Associate Dean to deal with, which is the standard protocol. Since the essay on the novel was worth 20%of the grade for the course, I suspect this student has no chance of passing. Even still, I will probably have to grade his exam.
Maybe the reason this type of appropriation makes me so livid is because it’s not ambiguous. Cultural borrowing in various forms has occurred throughout history, so I’m willing to show as much forgiveness to other writers as I hope to get from them. Cheating on an assignment is a different thing, and I don’t buy the excuses from some students that 1) they had no idea they were doing anything wrong, and 2) my claim that they “cheated” is really just a misunderstanding of their way of doing “research.” (I’m reminded of the traditional claim that sexual assault and harassment are really just misunderstandings.)
Some days, I would like to be the Red Queen from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass, and stride about yelling "Off with their heads!" For better or worse, I don’t have the energy for that today.
Maybe next week.
Showing posts with label Pornography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pornography. Show all posts
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Monday, August 29, 2016
Self-Referential
By
Lisabet Sarai
Although
I’m always reading, usually several books at a time, nothing I’ve
encountered in the last month or so has impressed me enough to be
worth talking about here. However, I did recently see an amazing
film, The Handmaiden,
which was based on one of my all time favorite novels, Sarah Waters’s
Fingersmith.
Hence, I thought I’d cheat a bit by sharing my reactions to the
movie, with some references to the book as well.
I
read Fingersmith not long after it was released in 2002
(having adored Water’s previous novel Tipping the Velvet).
The book is a tour de force upending of Dickensian tropes we
all grew up with: the penniless orphan raised by petty thieves; the
lonely mansion with possibly mad inhabitants; revelations of secret
pasts and hidden connections between seemingly chance met characters.
Waters leads you along what seems like a familiar narrative trail,
only to pull the rug out from underneath you. She’ll suddenly twist
the story into a different (but equally familiar) shape, only to
surprise you again in a few hundred pages.
Layered
on this clever and exquisitely crafted plot is a lesbian love story
hot enough to satisfy any reader of this blog. The final result is a
seamless masterpiece. My reaction when I finished Fingersmith
was heartfelt applause.
Korean
director Chan-wook Park’s adaptation of Water’s novel moves the
action from Victorian England to nineteen thirties, Japanese-occupied
Korea. Sookee, an orphan raised by a band of pickpockets, is chosen
by the master criminal Count Fujiwara (who is neither noble nor
Japanese as he claims, but expert at feigning both) to implement a
complicated scheme of fraud, seduction and theft. The count finds her
a position as lady’s maid to a lovely, sheltered heiress, Lady
Hideko, who resides with her book-collecting uncle in a massive
half-Western, half-Japanese chateau. Sookee is supposed to get close
to Hideko and encourage her to elope with the ersatz count. Once the
marriage has been consummated, the two crooks plan to commit the
high-strung noblewoman to an insane asylum and split her vast riches
between them.
All
is not as it seems, however. (That’s a profound understatement!)
For one thing, Sookee and Hideko find themselves irresistibly
attracted to one another. Meanwhile, as the plot progresses, viewers
become less sure just who are the villians and who is the victim. The
director handles the plot shifts almost as deftly as Ms. Waters
herself, peppering the action with clues that you notice but dismiss
as unimportant, until they turn out to be keys to the real story.
Many
aspects of this movie impressed me: the richly textured historical
setting, the gorgeous cinematography, the multi-level
characterizations, the subtle and effective script, the observations
on ambivalent Korean attitudes toward their occupiers, the scary and
convincing portrayal of child abuse. What I want to talk about in
this post, however, is the eroticism in the film.
As
it turns out, The Handmaiden is more than a dark, engaging tale of
deceit, betrayal and revenge. It’s also a movie about pornography.
Hideko complains from the earliest scenes about the readings her
uncle requires her to perform for the rich Japanese book collectors
he invites to his library. Gradually we discover that the uncle’s
vast collection of rare volumes consists exclusively of sexually
explicit writing and drawings. Hideko has been groomed from childhood
to provide aural erotic stimulation to her uncle’s guests—and
she does so with consummate skill. Wearing heavy silk kimonos, her
hair elaborately coiffed and her face thick with make-up, she reads
the filthiest of stories aloud while members of the audience squirm
in their tight Western trousers.
The
reading scenes (there is one involving Hideko’s aunt as well, a
woman who hanged herself before Sookee arrives) rank among the most
erotic moments I’ve ever seen on screen. Hideko injects the most
lurid images into the imaginations of her listeners, all the while
retaining an air of untouchable purity.
Even
the suave, handsome count finds himself obsessed by the need to
possess her. Accustomed to bedding any woman he chooses, the would-be
seducer discovers that her sexual coldness inflames him almost as
much as her enormous wealth.
Growing
erotic tension between Sookee and Hideko also heats up the film. When
their mutual desire finally explodes into explicit lesbian sex,
though, some of the erotic charge disappears. The sex scenes feel
obvious, shallow and formulaic after the slow burn that leads the
characters into them. Somehow seeing the sex on the screen (and you
do see almost everything) is not nearly as arousing as thinking about
it.
In
fact, the fucking scenes feel unsatisfying, like bad porn. Which is
why I titled this post “Self-referential”. In thinking about this
film after the fact (and I’ve done that a lot), I wonder whether
the directory deliberately made the most graphic parts of the film
the least interesting. It’s almost as though he wanted to create a
pornographic movie about pornography.
In
any case, I recommend this movie highly to anyone who writes or reads
erotica. I’ve rarely encountered a movie that so effectively
demonstrates erotic power of words.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Rolling In It
by Jean Roberta
I recently reviewed a scholarly book, The Sexuality of History: Modernity and the Sapphic, 1565-1830, by Susan Lanser. As the author shows, “woman + woman” (primary relationships between women) were described during the period under discussion as 1) impossible (especially if they included any activity that could be called “sex”), 2) new and “modern,” despite the general belief that the poet Sappho, from the Island of Lesbos (circa 600 BC) was the original foremother, and 3) a dangerous epidemic that could destroy civilization. This book includes evidence of “the sapphic imaginary,” including much speculation by anxious conservatives about the debauched practises of women who supposedly had too much freedom.
There needs to be a book about the “slut imaginary,” and maybe there is. At various times in my life, most of the people closest to me have accused me of “wanting it all the time,” and even of doing it all the time, presumably with no breaks for eating or sleeping, let alone earning money by holding down a non-sexual job. According to some men (e.g. my late ex-husband), too many women are Biblical demons who have no other function except to tempt men to spill their seed.
Accusations of sluttery are often motivated by political bias other than contempt for women in general. Queen Jezebel in the Old Testament wasn’t necessarily an adulteress or a nymphomaniac. According to the story, she was the foreign wife of a Hebrew king named Ahab, and she brought the worship of “false gods” to her husband’s people. In the centuries since her story was first written down, it has been assumed that such a “pagan” woman would be a slut. Most visual images of her focus on her lush, sinful curves.
Skip ahead to the late 1700s, when Queen Marie Antoinette of France was still known to her enemies as “the Austrian woman,” a foreign invader who married the dauphin of France when she was a teenager. On the eve of revolution, written stories about her “furious womb” (uncontrollable need for sex) circulated widely.
Note that King Charles II, who ruled England from 1660 to 1685, was a famous “libertine.” Historians estimate that he fathered between 12 and 19 children outside of marriage. (He had a wife, but she couldn’t carry a pregnancy to term.) Apparently no one suggested that he was unfit to rule because of his prolific sex life. At the time, more of his Protestant subjects seemed shocked by rumours that the king was a closeted Catholic!
When I was still fairly young and horny, I learned from experience that no one can really do it “all the time.” (I’ve also been accused of writing “all the time” as well as reading “all the time.” If there are only 24 hours in a day, how can time be multiplied?) Males, in particular, have a disadvantage if they want to do it “all the time.” Most guys, no matter how healthy and full of juice, need some reloading time after ejaculating before they can fire again. Girls/women are capable of multiple orgasms, but not for hours at a stretch. Human energy is limited.
The general Western (Christian?) fear of “excessive” sex really seems like fear of the impossible, much like a medieval fear of having one’s crops or general well-being destroyed by a witch’s curse. Nonetheless, I’m sure I wasn’t the only girl whose parents recommended “therapy” of some kind (medical or psychiatric) to eliminate those inappropriate feelings. The only alternative to being a “fallen woman” who presumably wanted it all the time was to be a “nice girl” who was supposed to do it only with her husband, but not to like it.
The flip side of traditional fear and dread of uncontrolled lust (especially in women) is desire for unlimited pleasure. My earliest “porn” stories (as I thought of them) were about some other country – it might have to be on some other planet – where my sexual ability would be admired, not sneered at or punished. I could have high rank (i.e. be an earthier kind of Disney princess), be initiated into sex in some public ceremony, and not lose any status because of it. Au contraire; my “people” would love my sexual generosity.
The surrealistic plots of Lewis Carroll’s fantasy novels, Alice in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking-Glass (1872) seem like reactions to the Victorian social order, and even though they don’t include any mention of sex, they do include a surprisingly assertive young heroine. In my fantasy story, “Becoming Alice,” she accelerates through puberty by drinking a magic potion (one of the bottles labelled “Drink Me”), and then makes her debut, her presentation to the King and Queen, in a sexual sense. In Wonderland, this is all as it should be. (This story appears in my single-author collection, The Princess and the Outlaw, and in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 13.)
For a brief time in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I thought a Sexual Revolution might really be on its way, and it would liberate people in general from undeserved guilt and shame. That revolution never arrived, and I probably won’t see it in my lifetime, which is probably more than halfway over.
In the meanwhile, I can only imagine a world in which sex would never be considered a problem unless 1) it was forced on someone who didn’t or couldn’t give meaningful consent, or 2) it resulted in unwanted consequences (pregnancy, disease), or 3) it interfered with other aspects of life (eating, sleeping, working). Otherwise, an “oversexed” person could be considered an “overachiever,” someone who accomplishes more than the rest of us.
I recently reviewed a scholarly book, The Sexuality of History: Modernity and the Sapphic, 1565-1830, by Susan Lanser. As the author shows, “woman + woman” (primary relationships between women) were described during the period under discussion as 1) impossible (especially if they included any activity that could be called “sex”), 2) new and “modern,” despite the general belief that the poet Sappho, from the Island of Lesbos (circa 600 BC) was the original foremother, and 3) a dangerous epidemic that could destroy civilization. This book includes evidence of “the sapphic imaginary,” including much speculation by anxious conservatives about the debauched practises of women who supposedly had too much freedom.
There needs to be a book about the “slut imaginary,” and maybe there is. At various times in my life, most of the people closest to me have accused me of “wanting it all the time,” and even of doing it all the time, presumably with no breaks for eating or sleeping, let alone earning money by holding down a non-sexual job. According to some men (e.g. my late ex-husband), too many women are Biblical demons who have no other function except to tempt men to spill their seed.
Accusations of sluttery are often motivated by political bias other than contempt for women in general. Queen Jezebel in the Old Testament wasn’t necessarily an adulteress or a nymphomaniac. According to the story, she was the foreign wife of a Hebrew king named Ahab, and she brought the worship of “false gods” to her husband’s people. In the centuries since her story was first written down, it has been assumed that such a “pagan” woman would be a slut. Most visual images of her focus on her lush, sinful curves.
Skip ahead to the late 1700s, when Queen Marie Antoinette of France was still known to her enemies as “the Austrian woman,” a foreign invader who married the dauphin of France when she was a teenager. On the eve of revolution, written stories about her “furious womb” (uncontrollable need for sex) circulated widely.
Note that King Charles II, who ruled England from 1660 to 1685, was a famous “libertine.” Historians estimate that he fathered between 12 and 19 children outside of marriage. (He had a wife, but she couldn’t carry a pregnancy to term.) Apparently no one suggested that he was unfit to rule because of his prolific sex life. At the time, more of his Protestant subjects seemed shocked by rumours that the king was a closeted Catholic!
When I was still fairly young and horny, I learned from experience that no one can really do it “all the time.” (I’ve also been accused of writing “all the time” as well as reading “all the time.” If there are only 24 hours in a day, how can time be multiplied?) Males, in particular, have a disadvantage if they want to do it “all the time.” Most guys, no matter how healthy and full of juice, need some reloading time after ejaculating before they can fire again. Girls/women are capable of multiple orgasms, but not for hours at a stretch. Human energy is limited.
The general Western (Christian?) fear of “excessive” sex really seems like fear of the impossible, much like a medieval fear of having one’s crops or general well-being destroyed by a witch’s curse. Nonetheless, I’m sure I wasn’t the only girl whose parents recommended “therapy” of some kind (medical or psychiatric) to eliminate those inappropriate feelings. The only alternative to being a “fallen woman” who presumably wanted it all the time was to be a “nice girl” who was supposed to do it only with her husband, but not to like it.
The flip side of traditional fear and dread of uncontrolled lust (especially in women) is desire for unlimited pleasure. My earliest “porn” stories (as I thought of them) were about some other country – it might have to be on some other planet – where my sexual ability would be admired, not sneered at or punished. I could have high rank (i.e. be an earthier kind of Disney princess), be initiated into sex in some public ceremony, and not lose any status because of it. Au contraire; my “people” would love my sexual generosity.
The surrealistic plots of Lewis Carroll’s fantasy novels, Alice in Wonderland (1865) and Through the Looking-Glass (1872) seem like reactions to the Victorian social order, and even though they don’t include any mention of sex, they do include a surprisingly assertive young heroine. In my fantasy story, “Becoming Alice,” she accelerates through puberty by drinking a magic potion (one of the bottles labelled “Drink Me”), and then makes her debut, her presentation to the King and Queen, in a sexual sense. In Wonderland, this is all as it should be. (This story appears in my single-author collection, The Princess and the Outlaw, and in The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 13.)
For a brief time in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I thought a Sexual Revolution might really be on its way, and it would liberate people in general from undeserved guilt and shame. That revolution never arrived, and I probably won’t see it in my lifetime, which is probably more than halfway over.
In the meanwhile, I can only imagine a world in which sex would never be considered a problem unless 1) it was forced on someone who didn’t or couldn’t give meaningful consent, or 2) it resulted in unwanted consequences (pregnancy, disease), or 3) it interfered with other aspects of life (eating, sleeping, working). Otherwise, an “oversexed” person could be considered an “overachiever,” someone who accomplishes more than the rest of us.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Friday, October 1, 2010
I like smut and I cannot lie ...
I have a confession to make. Are you ready for it?
I write smut.
That's right, you heard me. I write erotica and erotic romances, and I like it!
What's more, I have been told that I am halfway decent at it.
Even more … I READ it too! Especially the two male threesome stuff. I really like the erotic romances where the two guys aren't afraid to share a women, and enjoy each other. *wink, wink*
Here's another confession, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Seriously, no one can know. Okay?
*Looks around to make sure no one else is listening*
Here goes …
I look at porn pictures and sometimes, I watch porn.
That's right, I am a naughty girl.
But I have to confess, I am not much on the heterosexual stuff. I like guys and all, but most of the porn that is done for heterosexual couples is rather boring actually.
I used to watch the Red Shoe Diaries though. Those were hot for a teenager. LOL
My secret porn stash now is all lesbian in nature (or at least images of women). And hubby doesn't mind. In fact, he buys it for me. : )
My favorite nude model is Elizabeth Ann Hilden. I fell for her images in the Penthouse shoot that she did, and I have since collected a fairly decent set of images from those the photographer offers.
I also really like the lesbian porn (at least some of it) that Charlie Lane has been in. I am slowly working to gather a decent video collection.
I am not much on giggles, which she occasionally does, but something about her, especially when she is going down on another girl, just turns me on.
So I can forgive the occasional air-head appearing moments.
Really I can.
Now, that said, you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? Because we all know that most societies (including the US) just can't handle knowing that people are enjoying sex.
We can't watch it, read about it, have it or write about it. Warning, sarcasm ahead. Must be why romances are slowly getting more and more subtle about things and the porn industry has all but died off.
Remember, women are just supposed to lie there, close our eyes, and think of the Queen mum. Or at least we were before we broke from the mother country. Not sure who we are supposed to think of now.
Ack! No wonder I haven't been doing thingsright. I have no clue who I am supposed to be thinking of while fully dressed and hubby does what he needs to to get his rocks off. Someone help! I have to stop enjoying sex, stop watching porn, and stop looking at images of hot men and women.
It's just so naughty! But damn, it feels so good!
Anyways, that's my secret. But shhhhh, you can't tell anyone!
I write smut.
That's right, you heard me. I write erotica and erotic romances, and I like it!
What's more, I have been told that I am halfway decent at it.
Even more … I READ it too! Especially the two male threesome stuff. I really like the erotic romances where the two guys aren't afraid to share a women, and enjoy each other. *wink, wink*
Here's another confession, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Seriously, no one can know. Okay?
*Looks around to make sure no one else is listening*
Here goes …I look at porn pictures and sometimes, I watch porn.
That's right, I am a naughty girl.
But I have to confess, I am not much on the heterosexual stuff. I like guys and all, but most of the porn that is done for heterosexual couples is rather boring actually.
I used to watch the Red Shoe Diaries though. Those were hot for a teenager. LOL
My secret porn stash now is all lesbian in nature (or at least images of women). And hubby doesn't mind. In fact, he buys it for me. : )
My favorite nude model is Elizabeth Ann Hilden. I fell for her images in the Penthouse shoot that she did, and I have since collected a fairly decent set of images from those the photographer offers.
I also really like the lesbian porn (at least some of it) that Charlie Lane has been in. I am slowly working to gather a decent video collection.I am not much on giggles, which she occasionally does, but something about her, especially when she is going down on another girl, just turns me on.
So I can forgive the occasional air-head appearing moments.
Really I can.
Now, that said, you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? Because we all know that most societies (including the US) just can't handle knowing that people are enjoying sex.
We can't watch it, read about it, have it or write about it. Warning, sarcasm ahead. Must be why romances are slowly getting more and more subtle about things and the porn industry has all but died off.
Remember, women are just supposed to lie there, close our eyes, and think of the Queen mum. Or at least we were before we broke from the mother country. Not sure who we are supposed to think of now.
Ack! No wonder I haven't been doing thingsright. I have no clue who I am supposed to be thinking of while fully dressed and hubby does what he needs to to get his rocks off. Someone help! I have to stop enjoying sex, stop watching porn, and stop looking at images of hot men and women.
It's just so naughty! But damn, it feels so good!
Anyways, that's my secret. But shhhhh, you can't tell anyone!
Friday, April 24, 2009
Helen Makes A Porno
By Helen E. H. Madden
Actually, I've made TWO pornos, and by making I mean I wrote, directed, and animated two dirty flicks. Yes, that's right, animated. Remember, I have many talents, and one of them is cartooning.
Sometime around 1999, the Hubster bought me a program called Flash, which you may have heard of. Flash was a simple, yet very flexible, 2D animation program priced just right for the amateur cartoonist. It was simple to use, and even allowed for the addition of audio clips and a soundtrack to work with the animation. In fact, my copy of Flash came with a simple music looping program called Acid Pro 3. The idea behind Acid was that you picked out various clips of music and placed them into stack on the screen where you could arrange them with the click of a mouse. The looping part meant that the sounds would play over and over for as many repetitions as you liked, thus allowing for seamless music creation. And it came with a library of music clips to experiment with. It was an ideal program for someone like me who has an ear for music, but doesn't really play a musical instrument.
I mention all of this because the late 1990s was about the time that the multimedia computer craze swept through the world. Anybody who had a couple hundred dollars and a decent computer suddenly had the ability to create short films, animated cartoons, or even computer games. About the same time that Flash and Acid Pro came out, other inexpensive programs like Bryce (a program that let users create 3D landscapes) and Poser (used for 3D rendering and animation of human figures) appeared on the scene as well, opening up the previously out-of-reach world of 3D art to would-be digital artists.
Now let me ask you, what do you think a lot of folks did with all those simple, affordable programs? Did they create great works of art? Did they astound the world with their imaginative genius?
Well, maybe some folks did, but the rest of us created porn.
That's right, we suddenly got the capabilities of Industrial Light and Magic on our desktops and we make porn. A lot of porn.
I blame this on Poser. You see, Poser came complete with adult male and female figures. Nude adult male and female figures. You and I both know you can't just hand people a program that allows them to pose and manipulate naked 3D people and not expect something naughty to happen. I mean, come on! It was like having digital Barbie dolls to play with, only Ken came with genitalia. If you wanted him to, that is. Pose did have the option of letting you turn off his private bits and thus make the disappear (and please feel free to insert any obvious pun that you like right here).
There were other things you could do, too. In a classic case of sex driving technology, a lot of enterprising artists took the programs apart and figured out how to do things like resize and reshape 3D breasts and buttocks, apply lacy digital lingerie to these now enhanced virtual bodies, animate a variety of sexual positions, and even create sex toys in other 3D programs for additional pornographic fun. A few geniuses, disappointed with the original genitalia that came with Poser's 3D figures, made new and improved body parts that sold like mad. Yours truly bought a digital dick for her thirty-second birthday and spent many months experimenting with that little joy.
What became known as Poser porn offered endless deviant possibilities. Because the characters were digital, they could hold any pose in any environment. They could endure any extreme of BDSM. The artist had complete control over what he or she created. No longer did a person have to surf the web looking for just the right image to satisfy a visual need. You could make it, right there on your computer. An online society called Renderotica soon sprang up. Over the years it has become home to thousands upon thousands of dirty digital images.
I have certainly made some Poser porn in my time, and I've happily invested quite a bit of money into software and 3D figures to improve my efforts. The better quality images have a home on my website. As an artist, I strive to create images that don't look 3D even though they are created with 3D programs. I am getting better at it. But I still think the finest digital porn I ever made was in those early days when I first played around with Flash. Just some simple frame-by-frame animation with primitive characters and a cheesy looping soundtrack, but it certainly had its charms. Here, see for yourselves.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Why I Draw Nekkid Men
By Helen E. H. Madden
Unlike my esteemed colleagues here at OGG, I will not be reaching back into the golden years of my sexual youth, nor will I look at sex and censorship in our schools and libraries. Instead, I want to talk about recent personal history.
First, let me state two things. One, I am very secure in my heterosexuality. Two, being a heterosexual female, I like looking at naked men. Having said that, let's go aaaaaaaaall the way back to 2007. I had just signed a contract with Mojocastle Press for my first book, Demon By Day, and was looking for a way to promote myself as an erotica writer. There was a local science fiction convention coming up, one that I was quite familiar with, and lo and behold, on their programming schedule was a panel called "Love, Sex, and Romance in Science Fiction." It was scheduled for 10PM, and listed as a closed-door session. It was like that panel was made for me. Seriously, I heard angels singing Hallelujah when I saw it. I immediately e-mailed the convention staff and said I'd like to volunteer for the panel.
Since the convention staff knew me, and knew that I was an erotica writer, they said they'd be happy to have me. Oh, and there was one other guest who would be participating in the discussion panel. Helen, meet Author John Smith. Author John Smith, meet Helen E. H. Madden. Please, e-mail amongst yourselves and be prepared to host a panel together this upcoming weekend.
So I sent an e-mail introducing myself to Author John Smith, explaining who I was, what I wrote, and hey, here's my website at http://www.helenehmadden.com, complete with erotica art gallery! The very next day, I got a response back that was a little... surprising, shall we say?
(All quotes in today's blog post have been rewritten and names have been changed to protect the stupid, just so you know.)
From Author John Smith: "I never, I say I never have been more shocked and offended in all my life! How DARE you draw pictures of naked men?!"
Ooooooooookay. I immediately e-mailed back with an apology, stating it had not been my intent to offend; I was merely showing him my website as a way of offering my credentials for being on this adults-only panel. By the way, I added, I thought that adults-only meant we were going to discuss adults-only topics like erotica and erotic art in science fiction, and did you not see the warnings I put up on thumbnails page of my art gallery stating that there were images of male nudity on the site, so if you don't like that sort of thing, don't look?
Then I immediately e-mailed the convention staff to make sure I hadn't been wrong about the panel entitled "Love, Sex, and Romance in Science Fiction." Was it adults-only? Yes. Were we allowed to discuss sexually explicit topics? That was the general idea. Were we allowed to use sexually explicit terms and language. Oh hell yes! Wasn't that the point?
Relieved by the con staff's response, I e-mailed back to Author John Smith to let him know that I was willing to find some middle ground to work with him if he was uncomfortable discussing certain subjects, but did he understand that we were hosting a talk on sexually explicit material?
From Author John Smith: "Why yes, I did know. However, I saw those pictures of naked men on your website and I got scared. I don't like pictures of naked men. I am straight, so I only like to look at naked women. However, I guess it's okay for you to draw pictures of naked men if you want to. I mean, since you're a woman, I supposed it's only fair..."
Say WHAT? Excuse me? It's only fair that I, a simple female, get to create explicit images of naked men in a world that constantly deluges me with images of naked women? Why, how generous of you, you prick!
Imagine my outrage. Imagine me seething and frothing at the mouth as I read his follow-up e-mail asking if I had any images of a naked woman on her back, legs bent, knees spread, inviting someone to 'enter into a delicious wet treat.' Imagine my husband loading up the tranquilizer gun to keep me from hunting down this jack-ass and tearing him limb from limb. That particular evening was quite interesting, indeed.
I went to the convention, dreading what would happen. The last thing I wanted to deal with was some stupid sexist jerk who thought I had no business writing erotica or drawing male nudes. It would have been perfectly okay in this guy's mind for me to post images of naked and semi-naked women on my website, showing off their 'delicious wet treats,' but it must have seemed abnormal to him that I wanted to create sexual images of naked men, meant to appeal to me. Oh, the horrors he must have felt in being forced to deal with a woman secure in her heterosexuality and artistic freedom.
I got through the panel and dealt with the prick as politely as I could. But all that weekend he continued to repeat his request for me to supply him with images of naked women lewdly displayed. The first 40 or 50 times, I demurred politely. But eventually I got sick of hearing him say, "You know what you need on your website? Naked women doing nasty things! That's what people want to see!" So I turned to him and said, "Well, I'm rather busy right now, but if you care to commission a piece, I could put something together. I charge $50 an hour for digital artwork, and this looks like a 10-15 hour job. Shall I draw up a contract for the work?"
His silence was deafening. When he finally did speak, it was to stammer things along the lines of, "Oh no, I don't mean to bother you with paying work. It's just that if you happen to do any such drawings, maybe you could send them my way, because I certainly shouldn't have to pay for such things as porn customized to my sexual fantasies..."
Here's the thing. If I've got a hot button issue, it's this - women constantly have images of nude and semi-nude oversexed women shoved down their throats. Naked women are in the newspapers, magazines, TV, movies, etc.. But if we want to see a picture of a naked man? We have to search the internet for whatever grungy scraps the gay porn sites throw out to lure in paying customers. Even in the erotica industry, that hotbed of artistic sexual freedom, it's all about the naked girlies. Don't believe me? Check out the Erotica Cover Watch. They'll show you some prime examples of how naked men don't exist in the erotica genre. As for the rest of the world, I don't care how explicit we think things have gotten, for the vast majority, sexy = naked woman. Naked men do not exist, and creating images of naked men -- explicit, sexual images -- is considered so wrong it's ridiculous. Yeah, Justin Timberlake tears off Janet Jackson's top and the main stream media and polite society go nuts, but what do you think would have happened if Janet had reached over and torn off Justin's pants, leaving him standing with his dick hanging out? Can you even conceive that it might have happened? Or is the idea too radical to be imagined?
Last month I received a copy of Imagine FX, a digital art magazine I subscribe too. The cover showcased an image of a buxom blonde in skin tight, revealing clothing, sitting on top of a giant robot, sucking on a lollipop and reading a "Robots for Dummies" book. She was a pin-up girl, pure and simple, complete with pouty lips and nipple marks. I'm not mad that the image was on the cover of the magazine. It was a good image, well rendered, and it told a clear story. What pissed me off was inside that magazine, the female editor claimed that Imagine FX was breaking all the rules by showing a male samurai in full armor the previous issue's cover. Most of Imagine FX's cover images have been of buxom babes, so yeah, the samurai was a change in pace, but did putting a guy covered up in armor really qualify as breaking the rules? I e-mailed the editor with the following:
"I was very surprised to read your introduction to issue 40 of Imagine FX. You stated "We're breaking all the rules again... This time around we've got a beautiful creature on the cover." Well, the pin-up girl on the front cover... certainly was a beautiful creature, but she was hardly an exception to 'the rules' I've come to associate with IFX cover art... if you really do want to break the rules, might I suggest you put a pin-up **boy** on the front cover? Something pretty, pouty, and dressed in revealing clothing, maybe even sucking on something sweet while reading a 'For Dummies' book (because we all know that pin-ups, boy and girl, must be dummies)? Now that would be breaking the rules. But I suspect if you put a beautiful creature like that on the cover, you'd probably get fired."
Imagine FX has reprinted my e-mail in their letters to the editor column this month, and I'm waiting for next month's issue to see if anyone says anything about it. I won't be surprised if I get burned at the stake. But seeing that cover image, reading all that hogwash about breaking the rules, made me feel like I was dealing with Author John Smith all over again. Although I must say, dealing with that jerk did provide me with inspiration to do some new artwork. I went straight home after that convention and turned out this little beauty...
Belleraphon, by Helen E. H. Madden, 2007
Saturday, May 3, 2008
A Matter of Perspective
Well, we’ve had several intriguing discussions this week. Is it erotica or is it porn? We’ve read the definitions, identified the characteristics that allow us to distinguish between the two and now are better equipped to assuage the bite of those naysayers who would lump them together.
The research for this week has been interesting, to say the least. My wife thanks you kindly.
I’m reminded of a skit Adam Sandler did back in the 90s called Sex or Weightlifting. The premise was fairly basic: he played an audio clip for random strangers and they had to guess whether it was someone having sex or lifting weights. Invariably, whichever answer they gave was wrong.
What does this have to do with porn vs. erotica? Well in both instances, it really comes down to perception. We’ll come back to that in a moment. First, I want to revisit the definitions from Wikipedia:
Pornography or porn is the explicit depiction of sexual subject matter, especially with the sole intention of sexually exciting the viewer. It is to a certain extent similar to erotica, which is the use of sexually-arousing imagery for mainly artistic purposes.
Erotica (from the Greek Eros - "desire") or "curiosa," works of art, including literature, photography, film, sculpture and painting, that deal substantively with erotically stimulating or sexually arousing descriptions. Erotica is a modern word used to describe the portrayal of the human anatomy and sexuality with high-art aspirations, differentiating such work from commercial pornography.[1] "Curiosa" is generally used to refer to erotica and pornography as discrete, collectible items, usually in published or printed form.
Various sub-genres of erotica exist. As with fiction as a whole, there are erotic stories with a science fiction, fantasy, horror or romance focus. Additionally, erotica can also focus on specific sexual behavior or fetishes such as BDSM, wearing uniforms, cross-dressing, polygamy and sexual promiscuity. Fan fiction featuring characters engaging in male homosexual acts has become known as slash fiction.
Distinction is often made between erotica and pornography (as well as the lesser known genre of sexual entertainment, ribaldry), although depending on the viewer they may seem one in the same. Pornography's objective is the graphic depiction of sexually explicit scenes. Pornography is often described as exploitative or degrading. Erotica, on the other hand, seeks to tell a story with sexual themes. It attempts to explore desire through mystery and intrigue.
In my humble opinion, it all boils down to what we want to believe. If a particularly narrow-minded person chances upon erotica book, hits the first sex scene and instantly labels it porn, there will not be enough definitions or persuasive arguments in the world to convince that person the book is anything but a sexual account and therefore dirty and all things dirty, as we know, are porn… or at least some would have us believe.
Sexuality is a marvelous thing, a glorious thing, a beautiful thing… a natural thing. Yet, there will always be those among us who are ashamed of their baser desires. I feel sorry for them.
Artistic merit, the empowerment of women and the eternal quest for love aside, why do we read erotica? We can find the above characteristics in any number of novels that take us to the bedroom door, offer us a tiny peek and gently shut it before they get down to the nitty gritty. No, for me (and I realize I may be alone here), the only reason I have ever read erotica is for the arousal factor. Are you not aroused?
A great storyline, vivid characters and an emotional journey make for a memorable read, but it’s the lure of sex that brought me to the few erotic romances I’ve indulged in, in the first place. True, the sex is usually that much hotter, because if written properly, you can almost feel the love between the characters and for me sex doesn’t get much hotter than when it’s done with someone you truly love.
In the end, it’s the sex that draws people to both erotica and porn. Yes the distinction is clear, but whether you choose to turn to erotica or porn to get your arousal fix, it really becomes a matter of taste and… perception.
The research for this week has been interesting, to say the least. My wife thanks you kindly.
I’m reminded of a skit Adam Sandler did back in the 90s called Sex or Weightlifting. The premise was fairly basic: he played an audio clip for random strangers and they had to guess whether it was someone having sex or lifting weights. Invariably, whichever answer they gave was wrong.
What does this have to do with porn vs. erotica? Well in both instances, it really comes down to perception. We’ll come back to that in a moment. First, I want to revisit the definitions from Wikipedia:
Pornography or porn is the explicit depiction of sexual subject matter, especially with the sole intention of sexually exciting the viewer. It is to a certain extent similar to erotica, which is the use of sexually-arousing imagery for mainly artistic purposes.
Erotica (from the Greek Eros - "desire") or "curiosa," works of art, including literature, photography, film, sculpture and painting, that deal substantively with erotically stimulating or sexually arousing descriptions. Erotica is a modern word used to describe the portrayal of the human anatomy and sexuality with high-art aspirations, differentiating such work from commercial pornography.[1] "Curiosa" is generally used to refer to erotica and pornography as discrete, collectible items, usually in published or printed form.
Various sub-genres of erotica exist. As with fiction as a whole, there are erotic stories with a science fiction, fantasy, horror or romance focus. Additionally, erotica can also focus on specific sexual behavior or fetishes such as BDSM, wearing uniforms, cross-dressing, polygamy and sexual promiscuity. Fan fiction featuring characters engaging in male homosexual acts has become known as slash fiction.
Distinction is often made between erotica and pornography (as well as the lesser known genre of sexual entertainment, ribaldry), although depending on the viewer they may seem one in the same. Pornography's objective is the graphic depiction of sexually explicit scenes. Pornography is often described as exploitative or degrading. Erotica, on the other hand, seeks to tell a story with sexual themes. It attempts to explore desire through mystery and intrigue.
In my humble opinion, it all boils down to what we want to believe. If a particularly narrow-minded person chances upon erotica book, hits the first sex scene and instantly labels it porn, there will not be enough definitions or persuasive arguments in the world to convince that person the book is anything but a sexual account and therefore dirty and all things dirty, as we know, are porn… or at least some would have us believe.
Sexuality is a marvelous thing, a glorious thing, a beautiful thing… a natural thing. Yet, there will always be those among us who are ashamed of their baser desires. I feel sorry for them.
Artistic merit, the empowerment of women and the eternal quest for love aside, why do we read erotica? We can find the above characteristics in any number of novels that take us to the bedroom door, offer us a tiny peek and gently shut it before they get down to the nitty gritty. No, for me (and I realize I may be alone here), the only reason I have ever read erotica is for the arousal factor. Are you not aroused?
A great storyline, vivid characters and an emotional journey make for a memorable read, but it’s the lure of sex that brought me to the few erotic romances I’ve indulged in, in the first place. True, the sex is usually that much hotter, because if written properly, you can almost feel the love between the characters and for me sex doesn’t get much hotter than when it’s done with someone you truly love.
In the end, it’s the sex that draws people to both erotica and porn. Yes the distinction is clear, but whether you choose to turn to erotica or porn to get your arousal fix, it really becomes a matter of taste and… perception.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Propagating Pornography
Yesterday Anny provided definitions of Pornography, Erotica, and Artistic meaning. I found myself agreeing with her and wondered how the heck I was going to follow with a controversial discovery. So I got to thinking... as I will sometimes do (shh. I like people to think I'm slow, just don't treat me slow) about those definitions.
These, I've decided, are liberal definitions. Why do I say that? Well if you ask my family what constitutes as pornography you'd get a much narrower interpretation. I suspect that many Americans, when pressed, would agree their faith limits the scope of our chosen art form. As authors we place artistic meaning to our work. If we didn't, we wouldn't care about it enough to write. And while I agree that Anny is correct in saying it's a matter of interpretation, I suggest that the interpretation is where the entire argument lies.
For example. I write mainstream romance (sensual). I tried to break into inspirational romance (Christian). I discovered that there are guidelines for inspirational romance which are especially stringent for authors wishing to breach the gap from one genre to another.
Inspirationals follow CBA (Christian Booksellers of America) guidelines. When I went looking for what, precisely, these guidelines were, I could not locate them. I joined online groups and asked for a copy of the CBAs and was told to look at Harlequin inspirational submission guidelines as they were the closest thing in print. While part of me wanted to smack someone for making it next to impossible to obtain the holy grail of Christian writing regulations, another part admitted it was extremely clever of them if their goal was to keep out people like me.
In speaking to a very prolific Christian writer I asked her to explain some of the regulations in a clearer format. She said if a man is alone in the middle of a forest, chopping wood, he may not remove his shirt if he gets too hot. She went on to say the h/h cannot be in the same room alone, the same house overnight, or think of the other person in any sexual context. This was furthered by the realization that if a hero wishes to kiss the heroine, he must wish to do so because he finds her mind attractive and her faith desirable. At no time should his physical attraction be addressed. THEN he may chastely place a kiss and back off.
Folks. That's ridiculous. You all know I'm a pastor's-wife-in-training. I assure you, we have sex. I have two kids to attest to that fact. I can also say that while I'm sure my brain powers and faith are stunning to my husband, there has to be a point where I physically, er, arouse him. Chaste kisses? Only in public, darlings. He is, after all, a man. And I am a sexual creature who responds to him.
So why do I bring all this up? Because many readers see these guidelines as normal. They think anything pushing the parameters is pornography. Am I looking at the naked chest when a man is chopping wood? Did the author describe the way his muscles glistened with sweat or the flex and shift of bone and sinew beneath the surface of his bronzed skin? Ah, I just overstepped. Does my heroine lick her lips, catch her breath and secretly pray her hero will kiss her? When he does, does she feel it to her toes? Does her body respond to his attention in any preparatory way? Oops.
In the Bible a woman should not paint her eyes because she seen as a woman of ill repute. Have you seen my avatar for Blogger? Dang. Messed up there, too. I absolutely paint my eyes. No, I don't turn tricks and I don't have eyes for anyone but my husband. I paint my lips too. GASP. And I think we all know I stain my hair in flashy colors. Looks like I'm a pornographic slut monkey.
These are extreme cases. However my extended family finds my mainstream writing risque, pornographic. I have been accused of propagating pre-marital sex (yep, in some books), drugs (nope, never been addressed), alcohol (I do have a few toss backs when the guys are really upset but they always limit themselves), teenage pregnancy (not one of my heroines is in her teens), the downfall of youth in America today, including the eventual decline of my children (um. these are the same people who tell me what a great parent I am and how wonderful the kids are. besides they don't read my stuff. they aren't allowed). How did I become this pillar of sinfulness? I write mainstream romance. In 300 pages of writing I have a scene or two of steaming sex (what's that, maybe twenty pages? skip 'em then. The book is about more than sex. see the other 280 pages). I don't shut the door on them, I invite you in to watch. You voyeur, you.
I've warned my family this won't stop, that in fact I am escalating and am not ashamed of my writing. I've told them not to buy me as I will disappoint their sensibilities. And yet I have been told they will read everything I write. Okay then. But you've been warned.
Pornography and Erotica are touchy subjects. They don't just skim across the surface and hope to take hold of your understanding. They grow tentacles and grasp different aspects of your psyche. They are entwined with your faith, your sexuality, your respect, your relationships, your sense of who you are. When someone attacks those things, you get your back up. And you should because for some reason the judgment of pornography is a judgment of your fundamental character.
What is pornography? It no longer is limited to sex is it? Pornography is that oily word thrust at you when you are disapproved of, for whatever reason, whichever genre. It is the all encompassing word meant to say "you are dirty and you don't measure up". What is erotica? Well, I guess I didn't really address that. But I do believe they are completely separate issues. Pornography is unlimited disapproval. Erotica is specifically about sex. That's a whole 'nuther blog.
~Kelly~
These, I've decided, are liberal definitions. Why do I say that? Well if you ask my family what constitutes as pornography you'd get a much narrower interpretation. I suspect that many Americans, when pressed, would agree their faith limits the scope of our chosen art form. As authors we place artistic meaning to our work. If we didn't, we wouldn't care about it enough to write. And while I agree that Anny is correct in saying it's a matter of interpretation, I suggest that the interpretation is where the entire argument lies.
For example. I write mainstream romance (sensual). I tried to break into inspirational romance (Christian). I discovered that there are guidelines for inspirational romance which are especially stringent for authors wishing to breach the gap from one genre to another.
Inspirationals follow CBA (Christian Booksellers of America) guidelines. When I went looking for what, precisely, these guidelines were, I could not locate them. I joined online groups and asked for a copy of the CBAs and was told to look at Harlequin inspirational submission guidelines as they were the closest thing in print. While part of me wanted to smack someone for making it next to impossible to obtain the holy grail of Christian writing regulations, another part admitted it was extremely clever of them if their goal was to keep out people like me.
In speaking to a very prolific Christian writer I asked her to explain some of the regulations in a clearer format. She said if a man is alone in the middle of a forest, chopping wood, he may not remove his shirt if he gets too hot. She went on to say the h/h cannot be in the same room alone, the same house overnight, or think of the other person in any sexual context. This was furthered by the realization that if a hero wishes to kiss the heroine, he must wish to do so because he finds her mind attractive and her faith desirable. At no time should his physical attraction be addressed. THEN he may chastely place a kiss and back off.
Folks. That's ridiculous. You all know I'm a pastor's-wife-in-training. I assure you, we have sex. I have two kids to attest to that fact. I can also say that while I'm sure my brain powers and faith are stunning to my husband, there has to be a point where I physically, er, arouse him. Chaste kisses? Only in public, darlings. He is, after all, a man. And I am a sexual creature who responds to him.
So why do I bring all this up? Because many readers see these guidelines as normal. They think anything pushing the parameters is pornography. Am I looking at the naked chest when a man is chopping wood? Did the author describe the way his muscles glistened with sweat or the flex and shift of bone and sinew beneath the surface of his bronzed skin? Ah, I just overstepped. Does my heroine lick her lips, catch her breath and secretly pray her hero will kiss her? When he does, does she feel it to her toes? Does her body respond to his attention in any preparatory way? Oops.
In the Bible a woman should not paint her eyes because she seen as a woman of ill repute. Have you seen my avatar for Blogger? Dang. Messed up there, too. I absolutely paint my eyes. No, I don't turn tricks and I don't have eyes for anyone but my husband. I paint my lips too. GASP. And I think we all know I stain my hair in flashy colors. Looks like I'm a pornographic slut monkey.
These are extreme cases. However my extended family finds my mainstream writing risque, pornographic. I have been accused of propagating pre-marital sex (yep, in some books), drugs (nope, never been addressed), alcohol (I do have a few toss backs when the guys are really upset but they always limit themselves), teenage pregnancy (not one of my heroines is in her teens), the downfall of youth in America today, including the eventual decline of my children (um. these are the same people who tell me what a great parent I am and how wonderful the kids are. besides they don't read my stuff. they aren't allowed). How did I become this pillar of sinfulness? I write mainstream romance. In 300 pages of writing I have a scene or two of steaming sex (what's that, maybe twenty pages? skip 'em then. The book is about more than sex. see the other 280 pages). I don't shut the door on them, I invite you in to watch. You voyeur, you.
I've warned my family this won't stop, that in fact I am escalating and am not ashamed of my writing. I've told them not to buy me as I will disappoint their sensibilities. And yet I have been told they will read everything I write. Okay then. But you've been warned.
Pornography and Erotica are touchy subjects. They don't just skim across the surface and hope to take hold of your understanding. They grow tentacles and grasp different aspects of your psyche. They are entwined with your faith, your sexuality, your respect, your relationships, your sense of who you are. When someone attacks those things, you get your back up. And you should because for some reason the judgment of pornography is a judgment of your fundamental character.
What is pornography? It no longer is limited to sex is it? Pornography is that oily word thrust at you when you are disapproved of, for whatever reason, whichever genre. It is the all encompassing word meant to say "you are dirty and you don't measure up". What is erotica? Well, I guess I didn't really address that. But I do believe they are completely separate issues. Pornography is unlimited disapproval. Erotica is specifically about sex. That's a whole 'nuther blog.
~Kelly~
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