Sex and art. Art and sex. Two words that sum up all of my happiness and all of my pain. They are both my pleasure and my unrelenting confusion border-lining on existential crisis. On any given day, my relationship to art and sex can fluctuate from extreme highs to extreme lows with little gray area. One day, I wake up in the morning feeling enthusiastic about my art and what I’m working on, while the following day I’m suffering from a deep state of depression, filled with thoughts that my work is not good enough. The same is true of my sexual identity. There are times in my life when I’m feeling confident, I have regular enjoyable sex often, I feel desired and attractive, loved and cared for. And then there are the times when I feel terribly lonely. I wonder if I’ve gotten it all wrong. Is monogamy real? Am I missing out on something? Am I attractive? Do people wanna fuck me? Should I be sleeping with both sexes? Do I have to choose? Or maybe I watch porn and see something disturbing and, as a result, feel depressed about the state of our sexual culture completely. Hey, perhaps I should give that asexual trend a try.
For me, my sexual identity and my artistic identity are inevitably linked, for better or for worse. It’s as if I have twin spirits following me around all day constantly competing for my attention, my thoughts jumping from one subject to the next. “What does this outfit say about me?,” “who should i hang out with tonight?,” “what should I eat for lunch?…” I weigh each one of these seemingly mundane daily choices based on how they will impact the two things I care about most – art and sex. This has been a fairly new revelation for me, but why I am surprised? The two have so much in common. Sex is both intellectual and physical. It’s emotional and spiritual. It’s painful and pleasurable. It’s radical, and it’s commercialized. It’s personal and public. It has a utilitarian purpose (procreation), but it’s also so much more than that. It can be expressed both alone and in collaboration with another, or perhaps many other people at once.
Sex in so many ways is exactly what art is.
Art is creation, exploration, pain and pleasure. It’s isolating, and it’s accepting, it’s exclusive and inclusive. Yes, it’s curated and edited, but so are our sex lives. Don’t we make conscious choices about how we sexually express ourselves based on both natural, biological feelings, imagination and fantasy, as well cultural and social approval? And in some parts of the world, what’s legal or even possible?
Art and sex are both revolutionary.
They are censored. They can be dangerous. Both can be used for violence or manipulation (think fascist propaganda). Both have inspired our greatest hopes and our worst fears. Would religion have such a profound influence on the human psyche if it weren’t for the imagination of great artists giving us the image to worship? Or the sacred structure to pray in?
Well, you might say, everyone can have sex, but not everyone can create art. Really? I don’t agree. Everyone can make art. Literally. Pick up a piece of paper and make a drawing of your cat. There you go, you’ve done it. You’re as much a master of the arts as that guy I lost my virginity to in high school was a sex god.
I’d like to say that when I’m having good sex, I’m making good art, but that’s not necessarily true. A lot of times my sexual frustration can fuel a creative fervor, and I’m making great work. Then again, one intense orgasm can remove an inspirational block, and suddenly I’m writing love songs. In fact, most of my art is about sex…maybe even more than I’m consciously aware of. I’m a sexual creature, and I’m also a creative thinker. When the two come together harmoniously, I have an expression that is both intellectually inspiring and emotionally moving.
Likewise, my enjoyable sexual experiences are creative and require presence, or they are conceptual and intellectually manifested. This is very similar to the balance of concentration and relaxation that is necessary for a productive art practice.
Art and sex are my vices, and they shall set me free. They are the past, present, and future in one moment, both immeasurable and undefinable. Joy, pain, relationship, solitude, ecstasy, heartbreak, I need art to see who I am. And I need sex to feel who I am. One thing is for certain when it comes to art and sex: I want to be doing both, and a lot of it. Every day. Well, my goal is at least three times a week to start.