Category Archives: Art

Beauty, Now More Than Ever

The respite of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is always a balm upon the soul. We need more beauty in this world. The courtyard, though bright, is cool on these summer days. The dim environs of the surrounding rooms offer spiritual respite. Angels watch over the space, even if demons have infiltrated over the years. (Empty gold frames remind of which works were stolen in a still-unsolved crime back in 1990.) There are ghosts here, but they feel benign. Perhaps they were merely sleeping on the night of the robbery.

Four large tree ferns rise in the center court, framing the square space with delicate fronds of unfurling grace and elegance. Carpets of baby tears border the stone paths, and potted orchids nestle in every nook and cranny.

Art watches over all, standing sentinel in the absence of Ms. Gardner, whose will made it clear that nothing was to be touched or moved, so we have an idea of what it was actually like when she walked these beautiful floors. I stared out of windows and up at fantastical works and wondered what she did when she stopped to soak up the beauty at hand.

Through portals of stone and light and time, I peered into past and future alike. I was also able to inhabit the present moment – the most difficult trick of all for those of us who would rather be anywhere else than this moment in time. Here, it was all right. Surrounded by beauty, it was bearable.

A fountain gurgled its peaceful, bubbly melody in the background.

Palm trees, rubber plants, and philodendron soaked up the sun coming in from the skylight.

It was impossible not to smile at the world.

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Art & Magic

Look closer.

What was that tagline from? No, really, I cannot remember.

It was the tag line to something.

American Beauty’?

Oh well, it doesn’t much matter, but it’s quite befitting this post, whereby we see what happens when art and nature and some optical tricks conspire to conjure the ‘painting’ you see here. It’s actually not a painting or even a photograph (well, it is now, but you get the point). It’s a collection of cut flowers, displayed behind a frame at varying distances to give the illusion of being a very life-life painting. A living testament to the power of the frame.

I live for things like this: the way that art can be a certain kind of magic ~ the tricks it can play on the senses, the witchcraft it can work on traditional assumptions, the surprise and delight it can elicit from the droll sleight of hand or eyes or nose. Some of us just like to be fooled. It jolts the expected, sparking the exquisite conundrum of questioning what we think we know, and what we most want to assume. It wakes you up when you don’t even realize you’re asleep.

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Matisse Remixed

This is the sort of thing I love: a recreation of a work of art by another work of art. Here we have the original Matisse painting of a Woman in Purple Robe, whimsically echoed in an abstract floral homage. It’s magical. I especially love how the skin tone in the painting is almost perfectly-matched in the double gerbera daisies. It’s a brilliant illustration of how art can continue to live on in unique ways, and how it might multiply in joy and happiness with each passing iteration.

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The Day the World Shrunk

At the Art Institute of Chicago, there is a section of miniatures, displaying these miniature replications of room styles of the United States. It’s almost too precious to take seriously, but there is such painstaking detail in each one, and such historical quaintness to them that I was moved. If you enjoy a dollhouse, and who doesn’t, this is the place for you. I can’t give you an accurate scale (they frown up visitors trying to get a hand behind the displays, go figure) but these are about a foot and half of cubic space. It turns out that lot of really tiny things can fit in that kind of room.

Something about these rooms appeals to me. Maybe it’s their pristine order and immaculate execution. They can never be messed up because they aren’t real. No one has to live in them, tracking in mud from a spring day or leaving a dish on the counter (guilty and guilty). They stand here suspended in time, these little glimpses of perfection.

Be sure to notice the lighting in each of these. It manages to capture a certain point in the day, and then hold it there. How often have we tried to still time like that, to freeze a frame or a moment that we wish would go on for just a bit longer?

These little rooms do that. While the rest of the world rushes by them, they stay forever in place, forever young. As the chubby digits of little kids smear their grease and dirt across the viewing panes, the rooms stand stoically and unperturbed in their splendor.

My little window into Chicago is about to close. I will shrink the city into the smallest compartment I know – a memory – and it will reside there, unbothered and no longer bewildered by what came before.

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A Cheeky Artist Looks Inward

The greatest artists have more than one note to sing or one color to paint.

The shape-shifters and the versatile chameleons are those who captivate my notice and thrill me the most.

Case in point is artist Paul Richmond. Known perhaps best for his series of Cheesecake Boys, and his recent Adult Coloring Book, Richmond also has an eye for the melancholy.He goes a bit deeper in some of these works, favoring the blue and violets and silvery shades of night. For this particular work, he uses hues of flesh accented by bloody splashes of vermillion – the artist battered without and within. More than that, he offers a look inward – at the struggles and torments of an artist, at the passions and sorrows of any life well-lived. Some say poets and painters feel things more. I don’t know if I believe that. I happen to think they simply open themselves up more, let their emotional guards down. They are braver than the majority of people. That is on heartrending display in Richmond’s latest piece, “Lost To Myself”.

“Most of my figurative work has some connection to the theme of identity and self-reflection,” Richmond says. “Even portraits of other people often become vehicles for exploring my own emotional responses, but this piece in particular was very intentionally about looking inward.”

As much as I love getting cheeky, some moments call for something calmer and more contemplative. A good artist finds joy in all the world. A great artist finds beauty in the sadness as well. But the best artists find the courage to look inward and put it all on display.

{Find more of Paul Richmond’s evocative body of work at his website here.}

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Art For Inspiration

In anticipation of his upcoming coloring book release, artist Paul Richmond has been featured here quite a bit over the past couple of days (and we have one more extra-special Richmond post up later today). Artists, much more than sports figures and politicians, have always been my heroes. They are the ones I look up to, the ones that inspire me, and the ones that, far too often, go unheralded for changing the world. A work of art has the power to transform lives and alter the trajectory of the universe. It’s not always apparent, and it usually happens on a smaller level and scale than most events that people think of as shaping the world, but though the plane may seem smaller, it’s actually more pervasive and powerful than many of us realize.

When I was younger, I looked for people like me in places like xy magazine. I also looked for recognition in the works of Herb Ritts and Keith Haring, gay artists who celebrated the male figure. As I grew older, I found solace and reassurance in the images of Paul Richmond, Steve Walker, Joe Phillips, and Michael Breyette. Their work showed two men in love, in friendship, in lust, and in companionship. That art was vital in getting me to see myself as worthy of love, and realizing that my love was as true and moving as anyone else’s love.

That’s why art will always matter.

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Cake Through A Keyhole

Color my ass any way you want to – this is a cheeky promotional item for Paul Richmond’s ‘Cheesecake Boys: An Adult Coloring Book’. You can download the original HQ version here on his website, then print it out and go to town with markers, crayons, colored pencils, lipstick or mascara – the sky’s the limit! If you post the finished work on Instagram and tag @paulyworld and @alanilagan, he (and I) will be especially honored – and he may just add it to his wall of fame.

I was super lucky to have been immortalized by Mr. Richmond once before, so this is just the icing on the cheesecake. He’s been posting a series of these in support of his upcoming book release, and I’m now in the amazing company of heroes such as Matthew Rettenmund, Garrett Miller, and CardreaderB.

For obvious reasons, this is probably my favorite, and it’s amazing to see how he incorporates little details – a bottle of cologne, a glass of water, a recent Instagram pic as the framed wall art – into telling touches that immediately give away the eyes of an artist.

A couple of variations on how some have chosen to shade my ass are posted below – many thanks to Jan-Simon Minima, Richard Knoppen, Guinevere Renée, Susan Figueiredo Reaves, Berdien Geven-Dölle & Erik Dalston for filling me in so gorgeously!

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Color Me Excited

Lending a distinctly cheeky edge to the adult coloring craze currently sweeping the world, Paul Richmond is offering a collection of drawings just waiting to be filled in and shaded by anyone who has a passion for cute guys and art. Richmond has been an artist I’ve admired for many years (not just because of his gracious rendering of me as a Cheesecake Boy), and his current coloring endeavor has been a smash on his Instagram feed. Taking that one step further, he will be releasing an entire book of drawings that capitalize on our obsessions with coloring and Cheesecake Boys (available from Dreamspinner Press on February 14).

There is something both joyous and calming about coloring. For many of us, it harkens back to a time of innocence and happiness, when the soothing act of creation found inspiration in a box of colorful crayons. That such a fond childhood memory is only now coming back into vogue seems strange – but Richmond has been a master of combining vintage notions (such as pinup girls) and giving them a modern spin (such as pinup guys). His cheeky series of Cheesecake Boys and their requisite wardrobe malfunctions is the perfect choice for a coloring book that demands a bit of interaction from the viewer.

I’ve often felt that inside most of us is an artist yearning to be released. Richmond’s latest creative explosion lays the structure and groundwork to foster such creativity, and there’s something vastly rewarding of being able to take an active part in his artistic process. It is the ultimate compliment to the viewer – to invite them to be part of that artistic journey, to hand us the power to complete something that he began. There’s a trust there, and a generosity that makes his work a little more special.

His series of “Friday Freebies” has garnered an impressive following, and artists of all levels are invited to show off their colorful contributions, instilling a greater sense of community and camaraderie at a time when we need that more than ever. Richmond gets just as much of a kick out of seeing the finished works as we do in participating, graciously posting them on his Instagram page and genuinely enjoying what different people decide to do with his lines.

His new adult coloring book unleashes a new set of Cheesecake Boys upon the world, and it’s coming at just the right time. The impeccably-timed Valentine’s Day release makes it the perfect gift for a loved one, a friend, or, perhaps best of all, your own self. For anyone who’s wanted to color their dreams, Paul Richmond just gave you that chance.

{“Cheesecake Boys: An Adult Coloring Book” will be available on February 14, 2017 from Dreamspinner Press. Paul Richmond’s other work can be found on his website: www.paulrichmondstudio.com.  Richmond is also on FaceBook under ‘Paul Richmond Studio’ and on Instagram under “paulyworld”}

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Sneak Cheesecake Peek

Not all heroes are nice in real life. You know Batman is a seriously conflicted bitch, and Superman is so anal he probably poops diamonds, but every once in a while a hero reveals him or herself to be just as cool as you want them to be. Artist Paul Richmond is one such hero for me. For his entire career, he’s maintained a positive outlook on art and its place in the world, celebrating other artists (such as one of his greatest muses, Dolly Parton) and sharing his own work in wildly creative fashion. Even his powerful marriage-equality efforts were tinged with wit and whimsy – a lesson in how to deliver a potent message with charm and enchantment. Perhaps even more effective was the simple example he was living out as a proud gay man. It’s something we might take for granted now, but it wasn’t always so, and sometimes I think the world wants us to step back and be silent again. Richmond’s work is in beautifully brash and bold defiance of this. He welcomes all into his colorful world of art, where individuality and creative expression find happy fruition.

His work, his indefatigable spirit, and the man himself have always managed to make me feel a little bit better about being different. His work props people up when they’re feeling down or lonely, and he celebrates the diversity and strength in those who dare to tread off the beaten path. He revels in the flamboyant and outlandish, and that larger-than-life and grander-in-spirit personality is an inspiration. The best part is that he’s one of those artists who believes in sharing and cultivating an active interaction with his audience.

Lately, he’s been posting a drawing online every Friday – dubbed Friday Freebies – where you can download one of his drawings and color it in as you see fit. The only limits on how you do it are up to you – crayons, markers, pencils, lipstick – anything and everything goes, and he invites you to share your work with others. It becomes a community dialogue – a friendly, fun, engaging, and welcoming dialogue, wholly at odds with the darkness of the present state of affairs. That may be Richmond’s greatest gift to us. Tomorrow, I’m doing a little post celebrating the release of his first adult coloring book – come back and see all the awesomeness he’s getting up to now.

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“ART SEX LIFE” by Ismael Alvarez

Spanish artist Ismael Alvarez has been featured here before, as a Hunk of the Day, but now he gets a more meaningful profile as he launches his latest work, “Art Sex Life” – a brilliant collection of his artistic work that captures the stunning and colorful work that he’s been generating for his entire life. It’s as much a culmination of his output as it is a promise for greater things to come. Alvarez continues to craft pieces of perfect pop-culture resonance and relevance, celebrating the erotic and challenging the notion of the pornographic.

The heads of pop icons like Frida Kahlo and Hello Kitty find themselves on colorfully animated male bodies, jarring and comical and giddily pulling from radical sources of inspiration. Alvarez himself provides ample full-frontal artistry in poses of supreme control and devastating vulnerability. His gaze is alternately intense and removed, sometimes quite literally so. It’s a delicious tension that manages to sustain itself through the complete collection, never finding reconciliation, but always leaving a little want, a hint of desire.

The book is a hefty 200 pages, filled with Alvarez’s illustrations and photographs, a dizzying multi-format representation of an artist who is impelled to create and express himself across forms. It lends a restlessness to the proceedings, as if we were getting an intimate look at how his brain works firsthand, and it’s a wondrous trip to behold.

{‘ART SEX LIFE’ by Ismael Alvarez may be purchased online here, or in bookstores in Spain. Also, be sure to check out his enchanting website, which is a compelling compendium of his artwork.}

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REVIEW: Tom Ford’s ‘Nocturnal Animals’

Have you ever left a movie feeling like you want to cry and smile at the same time, and maybe die a little too? It’s not necessarily because you recognize yourself in any of the characters, but perhaps for the first time in your life you can admit to some regrets, and you no longer pretend you don’t have any. That’s how I felt when the stunning final scene of ‘Nocturnal Animals’ faded to black.

Directed by Tom Ford, this is not a film for everyone, even as I wish that everyone could experience it. Such beauty seems not long for this world, and though every frame is a work of art unto itself, the masses will never have the sense to embrace the multi-layered nuances and subtle styling of this mind-fuck of a film. That’s ok. Much like his Private Blends, Ford’s latest film is a potent dose of bittersweet beauty. It’s also a striking companion to his equally-riveting directorial debut,  ‘A Single Man.’

‘Nocturnal Animals’ finds a successful art doyenne, Susan, looking back on her first marriage to Edward, as she receives a book written by him. The book plays out within the movie, featuring Jake Gyllenhaal as both Edward and Tony, the protagonist of the book. Amy Adams give deceptively soul-less life to the current-day Susan, instilling her tight-rope-tense character with just enough vulnerability to tease out a life of regret, while Gyllenhaal gives a raw, naked gut-wrenching performance in both of his roles.

The macabre tale-within-a-tale narrative is a brutal mirror of how Edward now views his relationship with Susan, and the violent acts within are barely tempered by the fact that this is a work of art and supposed fiction.

There is a bitter element of realizing that what we give up to get what we think we want is often something we may never get back. The relative notions of success are also imbued with ambivalence.

As much as some may covet Susan’s spectacular home and flawless wardrobe, it is clear there is little happiness in her life. While we never see the modern-day Edward, his presence is felt through Susan’s eyes. He is made thrillingly palpable, and all the more insidious, by the diabolically subtle way in which Ford reveals the almost sinister act of revenge by the betrayed.

It is the province and privilege of youth to display an absolutely-no-regrets mentality, a sense of owning everything you’ve done, and all the choices you’ve made. For most of my life, I’ve fallen into that trap. Ford’s film seems to give warning to that notion while also celebrating it, warping one woman’s regret into an emptiness that threatens to devour her.

Despite its somber tone and deliberate pace, and in the face of all of Ford’s gorgeous cinematic flair, this is a brutal film, one that examines our regrets, and the ways in which we deal with heartache and loss. By the time the devastating final scene plays out, the bleak totality of these characters, and the very modern carelessness we’ve come to embrace when it comes to love, washes over the cinematic landscape like a chilly desert morning. There is a stunning, barren, stark beauty here ~ the gorgeous and tragic realization that no matter how carefully we guard ourselves against the world, its pain is something no one escapes.

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Smithsonian Solitude

Alone for the day, I entered the afternoon refreshed from a stop at the Mandarin Oriental. Back on the National Mall, I moved past the Arlington Monument to the Castle, which was backed by gardens and the Freer Gallery, in which a very famous Peacock Room was unfortunately shuttled for renovation. There was an exhibit in its stead, a take on the infamously-designed room, but a sad substitute for the real deal I’d wanted to see. Undaunted, I moved onto other gems.

Along the paths, hidden gardens beckoned to lucky visitors who took the time and care to explore their every corner and crevice. One of the many wonderful things about the Smithsonian is that there is always something new to be seen, and I could visit a hundred times and never have the same experience. That’s sort of how Washington has been to me, thanks in part to my infrequent but not entirely uncommon visits.

The Moongate Garden is nothing short of magical, with corners of seclusion and places to pause. Plants and stone sculptures conspire to create outdoor rooms of requirement – for those time when one needs a little quiet and solitude. Even on a popular holiday weekend, there were unpopulated pieces of the garden where I could find a necessary spot for myself.

Though my knowledge of plants is extensive compared to some, it’s no match for the wondrous variety on display here. I didn’t know the orange bush above, whose white bracts (not shown here) are used to attract pollinating butterflies and bees, but it had a slight sweet scent that was a glorious balm on this warm day. Inside, the Freer Gallery offered art and beauty of a different sort, but no less enchanting.

There are stories that aren’t always told in words, tales that wear their message in a few colors of paint, histories that hide behind artistic code. In the gardens of the Smithsonian, what is all that beauty obscuring? What lies behind such pretty veiled things?

On this sunny day, beauty has driven away the darkness, even if it lurks just under the surface, waiting for night to descend. Re-energized by my museum visit and the gardens of the grounds, I am reminded of how art and gorgeousness work to erase any doom, even as they leave a dull ache… because when you brush the sublime, all the rest of it seems a little sadder.

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Art by Nicolas Brunet: A Celebration of the Salacious

Sex has made a dirty name for itself over the years, and any celebration of cock is going to be met with instantaneous dismissal if not outright hostility. The Hunks featured here, some of whom are gay (and straight) porn actors, pose and preen in proudly naked form, and in some small (and big) ways they are hopefully blazing new trails of sexual acceptance for a sex-positive world. One artist who is also pushing for a transformation in the way our culture demonizes sex is Nicolas Brunet.

His website ‘The Art of Nicolas Brunet‘ is gloriously NSFW, and more than worth a perusal if you’re into fascinating work that pushes boundaries and highlights the maximum pumptitude of the penis. Devilishly and deliciously not for the faint of heart, his artwork flirts with the profane, but actually makes greater strides in putting forth a world where words like ‘profane’ don’t exist, or at the very least matter.

Witness his glorification and depiction of gay porn actors. He paints a pretty picture of these gentlemen – worshipped and wanted in certain circles, and the judgment and derision sometimes heaped upon the gay porn industry is here transformed into a component of inspiration and beauty. Changing attitudes and social constructions doesn’t happen overnight, if it happens at all, but Brunet’s giddy joy in crafting such figures, and the exuberant arousal they put forth, is perhaps more effective than any abstract ideological argument on the subject.

The rock-solid phallic perfection of his work seems partly inspired by the legendary Tom of Finland, and his famous crotch shots. Yet Brunet’s work injects a modern-day edge, occasionally going boldly into sci-fi territory. There is a rich history of this sort of sexual display, going back to the erotic Japanese wood blocks centuries ago to current day Yaoi and Manga.

Not that it’s always been about sex and pleasure. Solitude plays a recurrent theme in many of his pieces, with auto-erotic acts and ejaculation made in mostly solitary respect. The men here don’t often come together, and the juxtaposition of such an intimate and isolated act given a public display makes much of the work crackle with tension.

Brunet is also a master of making quieter moments come to brilliant life. The longing of a man sniffing a shoe – a lost lover’s, a boyfriend’s, or his own is unclear – but what does come through is a palpable and resonant depiction of yearning. Maybe it’s a sexual peccadillo, or maybe it’s something more. The most powerful part of Brunet’s skill is that he leaves it up to the viewer to fill in the rest, and filling in the blanks has never been more fun.

{You can view more of Nicolas Brunet’s work at his NSFW website ‘The Art of Nicolas Brunet‘.}

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Lessons in Art Remembered in a Hot Shower

Whenever I take a long hot shower, I think of my seventh grade art teacher Mr. Griffith. (Not in any sort of salacious way, so if you’re looking for that kind of story, keep looking.) We called him Mr. Griff for short, per his instructions, and in truth he was a short, rather nerdy guy with glasses and a pocket protector that held his pens and pencils. As shocking as it might be, to myself perhaps most of all, I did not excel in his art course. At the time I was too timid to be considered creative enough for the work, too hesitant to step outside the boundaries in a way bold enough to glean the appreciation of the teacher. My methods were precise and exact, my technique measured and defined, and I didn’t allow room for error or experimentation. In other words, I was far too anal to let go; I wanted to get the theory and execution down perfectly before I played around. I don’t think he admired that, but such was my Virgo nature. We’re getting off track now, and this story isn’t about my failings as an art student, it’s about that hot shower.

When we worked on our projects, Mr. Griff would regale us with stories of students past, or incidents from his own life. It was far more interesting to me than the papier mache mannequin lady that another student was working on or the painting of a car that Mr. Griff fawned over. (A red sports car? Really? I knew then that my abstract pencil designs weren’t getting me anything over a solid ‘B’.) Once in a while, those stories touched me, especially the one he told on a cold winter morning.

He was stooping over the sink to wash his hands, and he paused as the water ran over them. Drying them off, he turned around to tell us about a girl in one of his classes. He said she was a nice enough girl, but very quiet. Kept to herself and did her work without making a fuss over anything. One day he watched as she stood at that sink, adjusting the water until it was warm. Once it was at the desired temperature, she didn’t move, simply stood there still, letting the water run over her hands. He puzzled over the scene for a moment, wondering at first if she was all right, then reached the point where he determined it was a wasteful pose, and was about to admonish her for taking so long. As he approached, she shut the water off. He decided to ask her why she just stood there letting the water run over her hands. She told him that she did not have hot water in her house, so whenever she had a chance to feel such warmth she enjoyed it.

That story changed my life more profoundly than any exercise in art class ever could, and it’s remained in my mind for those times when I take anything for granted. To this day, whenever I indulge in a long hot shower, I pause to remember the story, and the girl I never met, and I feel thankful and lucky, as if somewhere in that pause I’ve had a brush with grace.

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Bravery, Brevity & Bravado: The World of Ben Kline

There’s a lot of bullshit on the internet, and it just keeps accumulating. Wading through all the nastiness and fluff is a Herculean task into which I rarely delve. If it doesn’t happen across my social media feeds (and often when it does) I don’t pay much attention to it. Once in a while, however, someone comes along to get me to sit up and take notice. It happened the other day when Matthew Rettenmund’s ‘Boy Culture’ blog alerted me to the awesomeness that is Ben Kline. I immediately sent him a FaceBook request asking if he’d deign to be a Hunk of the Day, but upon perusing his site and his work, it was clear that Mr. Kline was much more than the average Hunk.

As a poet, writer, and fellow-seeker-of-the-truth through the imagery of Instagram and Tumblr, Kline and his creative output resonate powerfully with me. He takes the acutely personal and transforms it into something universal, which is at the heart of any work of art. Getting at the core of the human experience and exposing the raw emotional circuitry between the heart and the head is a talent only the most courageous choose to cultivate. The exploration of one’s identity in such a public platform takes a big set of balls, as well as a thick skin. It also requires a certain vulnerability that can be frightening to many people.

Perhaps best-known for his poetry, Kline combines the written word with powerful, personal images. I’ve always held that contrary to popular perception, poetry is the most difficult style of writing. The thousands of words that comprise so much prose (and almost everything you read here) are designed to mask the ineptitude of content and style, whereas in a poem of a few lines there is nowhere to hide. Such an economy of words is terrifying terrain for any but the most talented writer.

 

Kline’™s poetry seeks to further the eternal quest for finding meaning in our lives, in the ways we strive to connect with each other and the attempts we make to get closer to the truth. His first collection, ‘Going Fast in Loose Directions‘ is an examination of those moments. His Tumblr website, Original Content Required, offers similar insight and intimate revelations with its of-the-moment observations. Time and distance can provide a safety buffer for intensely-revealing work, but so can the development of a persona slightly separate from the real person behind it all. That sort of dichotomy is befitting a Gemini like Kline.

“I definitely have created a character in my work on Original Content Required,” Kline explains. “Even though I’m clearly the writer of my poems, stories and essays, as well as the “model” in many of the photos, I tag them The Author. Which draws a line, yet allows the line to blur, because I am the author. Just not “The Author.” I like to say, My work is not me, but of me. Readers do not always appreciate that a poem, particularly in first person, is not about me, Ben, but is a character with or without name. Biographical critique has caused two generations of readers to seek too much information/gossip/context about the writer from the work, instead of just taking the work as presented. Throw that into the social media age, where every detail is scrutinized for real or imagined context…it’s almost too much… I don’t mind the two aspects being separate and also blending on occasion.”

There’s a certain fortitude required when you live your life so openly, and then put it all out there for the world to see. Some shy away from that because they’re afraid to face the truth about themselves – the negative, the raw, and the primal underbelly of basic human drives and needs. That’s never been an issue for Kline. “I have no fear of honesty, especially my own about myself,” he says.

He backs that up with some scorching sexual descriptions that once caused a Creative Writing teacher to advise that Kline back off from so much of the sex stuff. Fortunately, that only fueled the fire, and to this day Kline doesn’t shy away from graphic descriptions of sexual acts. The line between art and pornography is one that he simply doesn’t recognize, and such freedom is a welcome defiance of all the banned FaceBook and Instagram photos that get reported. His is a far more progressive take on sex: “I don’t have or encourage a definition of pornography. I suppose I could be basic and say sex on film? Pornography also suggests something obscene and I find nothing obscene about sex. Now that I think about it, I’d like to have that word stricken from our vocabularies.”

As bold as that may be, and as sex-positive as his work is, nothing Kline puts out there is what I would consider offensive or rude. (Those are subjective terms, it’s true, but this is a subjective blog.) In all of his scintillating photographic work, the photos that reveal the most are the ones that hide any blatant explicitness. The hint of a cock is somehow more scandalous than the exposed member itself. In a way, it’s the perfect embodiment of his poetic intent: “I want to portray a feeling, not the actual circumstances.”

To that end, Kline has managed to make the internet more personal and more resonant in the way he touches the common, tender thread of emotional examination. He also reaches out and interacts with his readers. It’s a vehicle to enhance his message, and he’s one of the wise people who focus on the positive aspects of its power while maintaining a realistic notion of its actual effect.

“The internet is fun to me,” he explains. “I’m old enough to remember life before it existed. It will never feel “real” to me the way I see younger people behave in regard to online interactions. I don’t mind the anonymity and people trolling or acting crazy. Just ignore them… But the comment poems and stories, as well as some of my responses to direct reader questions, are just another way I enjoy taking the mundane and making art with it. It’s really that simple. It engages both parties, the audience and the ideas in play. I love it.”

It’s a love that is rabidly returned, judging from the popularity of his poetry and his photography, and Kline is the kind of authentic artist that reveals the best of this wild and crazy internet world. At a time and place where so many of us try to portray ourselves as something other than who we are, his honesty and openness are an inspiration.

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