Desire Of Flesh Or Form?

What is it about the male form that is so captivating and alluring? Is it something that stirs our desire? Is it the association with strength? Could it be that we are just drawn to the beauty of the flesh? Sometimes, in the summer when I am driving around town and I see men outside in shorts and no shirt, I have to pause and gaze upon them. It seems that weather they are actually in shape or not doesn’t really factor into my fascination, though a great chest and arms can captivate me further. Some how there is an intimacy they reveal, the mystery of what lies below the surface of ordinary clothing is revealed. When I was younger I associated nudity with sex, and in my head it become a seduction of desire. What if I could hold that man close to me? Would he be a good lover? Would we become overwhelmed by our forbidden passion? Could I love a man like that, could he love me? Or perhaps it was the carnal need for being overcome by pleasure. But as I get older that gaze sometimes become filled with an envy to return to my own youth and become the object of someone else’s desire. For the most part I now look the form as beauty, form structure, line, curve. Our perceptions are altered as we get older and see our own youthful form change. The supple glow of the skin begins to fade. There is a point in our lives where we hit the peak of youth. It is a time we should cherish and reveal in that glorious moment, because all too soon that youth begins to fade. All too often that moment in our lives is over looked because it is taken for granted. We assume that it will linger on forever in our minds eye and become completely unaware of it transient glow. It is at this point that it still doesn’t seem to matter if we are overweight or out of shape. Perfection of form is an overrated misconception. There is something about all of us that feeds our discontent. Unfortunately we are fed by the compulsion of mass media campaigns that tell us we are in adequate. We all somehow want to have the beauty of build of a porn star. To be desired and consumed. I too am guilty of this myself. It feels like a great portion of my life has been a resistance against it; feel inadequate, not up to the standard. The older I get the further I get from desire or obtaining desirability. Now that desire changes to an emotional satisfaction instead of a physical one. I had a good friend that I grew up with come to my house one day and saw some of the images I was working on. He wanted to buy one, but the only problem was that it sexually charged him and he was afraid of being reminded of that constant arousal factor. It kind of shocked me. I don’t necessarily see my images as being erotically charged. Perhaps as an artist I have become dulled by their erotic nature, because to me it becomes a vision of light, color, balance, tone, curve, shape, line and form. Perhaps this is only my own sign of aging.