Studio

I am in my underwear, reclining in a makeshift bed, leaning back against the wall. My left knee is slightly raised, my legs provocatively spread apart. The position has been determined so as to accentuate the fill of my briefs, my penis and testicles falling to the right, with attention given to the contours they thereby produce. In actuality, I can only see my position from my own vantage point. Yet I know from experience what will look best, and in this sense I can see myself from the outside. My body is positioned with attention to line. My muscles are flexed, though only slightly, so as not to appear too rigid or eager. The ideal: an attitude of utmost confidence and ease, of fully inhabiting my sexual power, though in an open way, so that others can share in it too. Not a barricaded sexuality, but a playful, circuitous one. My pose in place, my gaze connects with the artists in the room, all of whom are now beginning to draw me. Their eyes move between me and their sketch pads, repeatedly, back and forth. They project their fantasies on me. I feel them, I can see these fantasies in their gazes, and this affects me, arouses me. I meet their gazes, lingering on each of them. The attention is reciprocated. It volleys between us. We meet within this ambiguous space of arousal. Drawings take shape there. I have a role in these drawings; I help structure the erotic circuit through which they are produced. Yet I make no claims on them. I simply want to be fully present in the process itself. To completely inhabit the generating network. Not to reinforce my body (or self), but rather, in a sense, to displace it — to generate an excess that always exceeds it. Ultimately it is this space of invention that interests me, rather than the drawings that result. They do not reveal so much as conceal.