Mark of the Borgia (Variation 1), William Mortensen, 1927
It warms my heart that lonely (and singular!) souls find my lonely (and singular!) site in search of something that might grant them a form of transcendence. No, really—it does. I have excellent taste. I only post “good shit.” Erotic, tasteful. Respectful.
So I was intrigued when a friend recommended the work of Gary Parsons.
“Intrigued” is probably the wrong word. More like “challenged.” Because this wasn’t “anime girls chair tied,” not a cheap hubba hubba bondage turn-on. This was challenging and troubling work.
I have known and continue to know Cutters. A few of them men. Most of them women.
It is, in my own fumbling words, intensely private, and not something done for observers. It is a physical and emotional and intensely spiritual release, that I think —I think— I understand intellectually. The pain, the release. The previously unmarred and “perfect” skin.
But damn if I want to watch a woman I love, or a man I like, fucking slice their skin open.
It is not a turn-on.
So that’s why I am more challenged than intrigued w/ Mr Parson’s work, and that is why I share it with you tonight. Because art is supposed to challenge and trouble us.
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for your listening pleasure