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I’ve announced this series as being “totally gratuitous,” but anyone who follows MV (or my poetry) knows that I think and act with an eye to the political contours of things, especially when it comes to the pageantry of sex and gender.
This series can, of course, be seen as an absurd, ephemeral, ridiculous act of intervention. An intervention into our collective cultural tendency to see the male body as a neutral, unmarked category while we continue to see/position/mark the female body as hypersexed.
It’s like we’re all crammed into some musty Victorian parlor, and everywhere we look, there’s moth-eaten velvet wallpaper with repeating patterns of “sexy” ladies bending over. There are tiny holes drilled between their legs and little strings of meat and cum dripping out. Running down the walls. I find this atmosphere very claustrophobic.
I like ridiculous acts. And I like interventions that fail, that feel like a badly-scripted prom. A prom-turned-pigmeat-extravaganza. With cherries on top.
This series can also be seen as a chance (for those of us who are attracted to men) to let our eyes roll around in whipped cream. We have too few of these chances.
It can be all or none of these things.
Tomorrow’s post will be NSFW.