It's Time To Get Sexy, No If's, And's or But's

Okay so it's been a productive day.  Taking an idea and thanks to my new toy actually being able to rattle out a fair few ideas.  I approve.  Biggest operational problem is that it's so hot in here and leaving sweaty smears on the paper.  This can be fixed in Photoshop but it's still something I'm going to have to sort in real life.  For these sketches and playing about, no worries though.  

New toy: lightbox!

More adult, but in a non-explicit way.  Sex and sexuality, sensuality and memory.  Interesting starting point.  

Crazy minimalist.  Don't know how well this is going to play with everything else.  

Anyway. so I do not forget: What the hell am I thinking?

I guess, this all starts with the pandemic.  Being kept on my own since March has given me a lot of time to think and, well, remember.  The things I miss the most are the people I miss the most.  I miss the feeling of being around people.  Online communication is no substitute, for the most part it's a lot harder for me. 

Thoughts contract.

I miss people.  Persons.  I miss the feel of being with people.  I miss the feeling of people.  I miss feeling people. 

People touch you, in different ways.  Emotionally, intellectually, sadistically, abusively.  but the one I miss most, the one I focused on: physically. 

This is where it gets a bit more personal. I am an 'always switched on' person.  I cannot relax, or stop thinking about things.  I worry, I stress, and nothing can stop this.  Nearly nothing.

I'm also a very sexual person.  And not just in a hurr hurr horny way. The act of sex, the ways people express themselves, the various ways sex has developed as a cultural force.  The why's and what's of sex.  I am an intellectually sexual person. (note to self, this still sounds off, rewrite later) I am fascinated by sex and sexuality, sensuality and why people do what they do, why I do what I do.  I am curious about everything to do with sex.

So sexuality is one of my driving urges.  I am closest to those I am intimate with.  It makes life complicated, and I am still hurting from that going wrong.  But here's the thing:

Fingertips trace memories on my skin.

These works are memories.  If you close your eyes and remember how a person touches you, then these are a pictorial representation of that.  Tenderness, caressing, forcefulness, intimacy.  Yes, that dreaded, terrifying, wonderful intimacy that I avoid at all costs now.

As before when my clay work was more creating my memories into shape, so this is in a similar vein.  

There is an ambiguity to these pieces, they are just hands.  What are they doing?  To my eyes, it is obvious, but to those unfamiliar?  It's hard to find images that fit my memories that are still clear enough to isolate the handiwork. 

Where does it go from here?  Well, I need some more varied source images to play with.  These are good, but will get to be too hetronormative for my tastes soon.  Then it might turn into a case of upscaling them?  Selling prints?  Oh, so Capitalist of me.  

For now, I'll just build up a stockpile of images.  These might even be able to be used in the screenprint workshop in some way.  Just keep pushing forwards and see where the steps take me.