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I was watching an episode of Pan Am the other day, in which a stewardess was mortified to find her privately-taken nude photos in a local art gallery.
The gallery owner was quite sympathetic to her embarrassment, but at the same time expressed the profound conviction that the photos were exceptional and beautiful, not for the way they looked but for the way they made him, or viewers generally, feel.
They were art.
Yes, I recognize that porn is also about how it makes you feel, and while we can debate the merits of that another day, the difference here is that the photographs in question touch viewers in far more complex (and even intimate) ways, emotionally and intellectually. Titillation, if at all present, is a subtle nuance rather than a slap in the face (or a yank in the pants).
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A little fiction to spice up your day:
I started out the day as usual, arriving at the office around 8:30 a.m. I was wearing my vintage navy blue skirt and sleeveless matching top with white stitching in the wide boatneck collar and curved triangular buttons down the front. It turns out that my boss’s partner had a meeting across town and he had taken his secretary along, and the photographers were out on assignment, so only Derek and I were in the office.
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