Greek god Eros
There is the quotation from the history of the forensic debate about pornography: I can't define pornography, but I know it when I see it.
It always struck me as an incredible statement, but I was never able to define it, either. Of course, I had never lived my life with the necessity of defining things. I could live and interact without necessarily defining the various aspects of my own, personal biosphere.
However, I shall give it a whirl:
Both Art and Pornography are part of Imaging Behavior of mankind. (Or part of Language Behavior for the written.)
Art fascinates with or without Eros.
Pornography cannot fascinate without Eros.
We speak here omnitemporally: "with Eros" means "with Eros in the past, present, or future".
Hence, Art may be inspired (past tense) by Eros, may give rise (present) to Eros, or may continue to eroticize.
Pornography without Eros is cold and uncomfortably forced. Without Eros to trick our eyes, in viewing Pornography we shall always see the creepy surroundings, the after-hours garages used as a studio. We feel shame for the people involved, and shame at hearing the words. Only Eros can transform our creepy feelings on viewing Porn into erotic flights of fancy.
ps.
I chose the above picture for Eros, because I really cannot stand nor understand the usual depictions. The modern ones are way too beautiful, coy, effeminate, self-centered... Eros is cool, studious; he is not like mad Pan, not too handsome and beautiful. He is a smart dude with a job to do, and he enjoys his work, but is not prey to his own spells.
In looking the ancient paintings, I came across one in the Louvre (Eros bobbin Louvre CA1798) and one in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (Catalogue Number: Boston 01.8079). The Boston one says that Eros was carrying a fawn. By comparing the two, and looking with an open eye at the Boston painting, Eros seems to be no longer carrying that fawn. And that's all I'm saying about this.
And I really believe that Eros would wear sunglasses, a la Joe Cool.
In looking the ancient paintings, I came across one in the Louvre (Eros bobbin Louvre CA1798) and one in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (Catalogue Number: Boston 01.8079). The Boston one says that Eros was carrying a fawn. By comparing the two, and looking with an open eye at the Boston painting, Eros seems to be no longer carrying that fawn. And that's all I'm saying about this.
And I really believe that Eros would wear sunglasses, a la Joe Cool.
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6 comments:
The real question is whether Jesus would wear sunglasses. And did he have an erotic fantasy life?
I think the answer to both questions is yes.
Of course he'd wear sunglasses.
And I bought some sandals yesterday. We used to call them Jesus shoes back in the idiotic days of the 60s. I guess sandals were fairly new to the yokels.
So Jesus wore Jesus shoes, and if sunglasses were cool, he'd have worn them, too. The white Americans in the 60s would have called them Jesus specs.
And if you deny erotic fantasy, then you deny the humanity, and you end up with Monophysitism or something heretical.
Yet another excellency you have, Paul. Knowledge of Christology. You never cease to amaze.
I was and am an obsessive reader with insatiable curiosity.
My parents used to forbid me from reading in the middle of the night, and I promised not to do the old flashlight under the blanket.
But they did not make me promise not to read my Golden books by the light of the bathroom nightlight. Since we moved when I was 5 1/2, this must have been when I was 4 1/2 plus or minus a year. If that seems too early, I didn't say I read well. I remember distinctly coming a cropper over the word "sewing machine".
That tile floor was hard.
I have a similar memory about early reading. I can distinctly recall my dad showing me off to his friends. I think I must have been around six,just after I started school, and he would open up a Time magazine to a random page, hand it to me, and I would start reading. It never ceased to cover me with glory.
I'm an obsessive reader also, but not of fiction. Your broad grounding there excites my envy. Makes me wish I were a speed reader. My stack of unread must-reads is ever daunting.
That's pretty cool. I definitely do not remember any such interest by my parents. They took pride in my baseball and basketball.
I realize it must have been awfully young to read...maybe I just looked at the pictures for hours...made up my own stories from the parts I recall having been read to me, and stitching in parts of my own. I could always look at maps and imagine the sweep of fantasy history across them.
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