Whichever way you look at this we use
erotic (with its male provenance) to denote a feeling we have which may
manifest itself in a reaction from our bodies (in my case I am too old for
that) or simply in our imagination (that applies to me at my age of 71).
I believe that the erotic that is pure
imagination somehow is distilled and much more powerful. I find it visceral, a
paradox as this feeling is not in my guts but upstairs where my mind while in a
stage of decline has more life than my viscera.
For many years I was a frank admirer of the
erotic photographs of Helmut Newton. There is one in particular that his
remained with me for years. It is a photograph of his wife (known as Alice Springs) taken at the dinner table with her breasts
casually exposed.
I believe that Newton’s talent lay in doing stuff that was
odd in a small but discomforting way. His famous photograph of a woman riding
on a woman (wearing a saddle) in what could be a hotel room is such an image.
It is beautifully lit and composed but the idea is odd, even off the wall.
Of late I have been pursuing this task of
representing Eros my way. It is fun particularly when I work with my latest
muse a woman who is over 50.