He goes by Figleaf, he has an amazingly intelligent sex blog and he photographs himself. But what gets me is how the photos always manage to smell so strongly of that thing he writes about, real (i.e., opposite of porn) sex.
He never shows his face. He only occasionally shows the goods. Frequently he's fully clothed. His body, although certainly nice and fit, isn't model-grade. So it's... the light? The poses? Why do those photos always look so damn touchable?
I think a lot of it is the setting and costume. The domesticity of the place--it's clearly some ordinary middle-class house, often with minor clutter and tchotchkes in the background--feels real, even as the cool streaming sunlight (does he use artificial lights to do that? I don't think so but it's hard to tell) gives it an oddly idyllic feel. And the clothing is always, always, soft and rumpled. There's deep shadows in the wrinkles and sometimes I want to touch his clothing more than I want to touch him.
(Are these silly comments? It's the house he lives in and the clothing he wears, I don't think he constructs every detail for effect. But the effect is pretty damn inviting anyway.)
And of course, as he frequently points out, it's so goddamn rare for an ordinary-looking, intelligent, photographically competent straight man to display his body for the enjoyment of straight women, any attempt is exceptional.
I wish I saw more bodies like his in beer ads. I'd drink more.
No comments:
Post a Comment