mardi 30 avril 2013

About a boy's face

For a man not unsensitive to young male beauty, each boy's face tells a story and could be a starting point for a novel... The lover is at the same time the reader and the writer of this story... Most of the time, a pic found on the net is the starting point of this creative and erotic process... Why did I choose this pic ? Why am I attracted by this face, by this gaze, by this boy ?

Desire is a fluid and elusive feeling... How to catch it ? How to express it ? What is desirable in this black and white pic ? The blond and messy hairs ? The freckles on the cheeks and the noose ? The dark eyes looking at me, straight into my eyes ? The two hands, hiding this boy's mouth and lips... ? But hands are as desirable as lips... Lips are a target for a kiss, hands are the promiss of a caress...

The blurred vision of this boy's hands, at the forefront, his boyish gaze, his blond hairs framing his face are what provide this pic with subtle erotic overtones, at least for my eyes... 


Birth of the beautiful boy

According to Hesiod and the main Greek tradition, when Cronos cut the sex of Ouranos, the Sky, his father, an outburst of male sperm fertilized the Ocean and Aphrodite, the goddess of love, was created from it.

However, according to some secret and occult traditions, Aphrodite was not the only one to emerge from the Sea fertilized by the Sky's sperm and seed...

There was also the beautiful boy, the archetype and paradigm of beauty in a young male body... The beautiful boy was the son of the fertile foam of Ocean, when it received Ouranos' sperm and blood...

The beautiful boy is mere energy, youth and virility, something in between, between sky and sea, between man and woman...

The beautiful boy is a digest of cosmic energy, he is the offspring of gods and primordial powers...

This secret and occult tradition is still alive today, among men who don't fall in love with women or other men, but with beautiful boys....


Supple as reeds

You were flexible and supple as reeds dancing with the wind,
Holding you between my arms was like trying to catch a unruly young animal,
Or trying to stop water flowing between my fingers...

To embrace you, I had to learn so many holds, and we danced such a wild choregraphy,
The choregraphy of bodies longing for a shared pleasure, at the peak of desire...
So smooth you were, so playful were your moves, so slippery were our skins...

I had to do so many exercises in order to practice the gymnastics of love with you,
In order to explore and caress all the curves of your supple body,
And to immobilize you between my arms for sharing, at least, an ever-lasting kiss...





Antinoüs



"Antinoüs était Grec (...). Sa présence était extraordinairement silencieuse : il m'a suivi comme un animal ou comme un génie familier. Il avait d'un jeune chien les capacités infinies d'enjouement et d'indolence, la sauvagerie, la confiance. Ce beau lévrier avide de caresses et d'ordres se coucha sur ma vie. J'admirais cette indifférence presque hautaine pour tout ce qui n'était pas son délice ou son culte : elle lui tenait lieu de désintéressement, de scrupule, de toutes les vertus étudiées et austères. Je m'émerveillais de cette dure douceur ; de ce dévouement sombre qui engageait tout l'être. Et pourtant, cette soumission n'était pas aveugle ; ces paupières si souvent baissées dans l'acquiescement ou dans le songe se relevaient ; les yeux les plus attentifs du monde me regardaient en face ; je me sentais jugé. Mais je l'étais comme un dieu l'est par son fidèle : mes duretés, mes accès de méfiance (car j'en eus plus tard) étaient patiemment, gravement acceptés. Je n'ai été maître absolu qu'une seule fois, et que d'un seul être.



Si je n'ai encore rien dit d'une beauté si visible, il n'y faudrait pas voir l'espèce de réticence d'un homme trop complètement conquis. Mais les figures que nous cherchons désespérément nous échappent : ce n'est jamais qu'un moment… Je retrouve une tête inclinée sous une chevelure nocturne, des yeux que l'allongement des paupières faisait paraître obliques, un jeune visage large et comme couché. Ce tendre corps s'est modifié sans cesse, à la façon d'une plante, et quelques-unes de ces altérations sont imputables au temps. L'enfant a changé ; il a grandi. Il suffisait pour l'amollir d'une semaine d'indolence ; une après-midi de chasse lui rendait sa fermeté, sa vitesse athlétique.
Une heure de soleil le faisait passer de la couleur du jasmin à celle du miel. Les jambes un peu lourdes du poulain se sont allongées ; la joue a perdu sa délicate rondeur d'enfance, s'est légèrement creusée sous la pommette saillante ; le thorax gonflé d'air du jeune coureur au long stade a pris les courbes lisses et polies d'une gorge de Bacchante. La moue boudeuse des lèvres s'est chargée d'une amertume ardente, d'une satiété triste. En vérité, ce visage changeait comme si nuit et jour je l'avais sculpté."


Marguerite Yourcenar, Les Mémoires d'Hadrien.

lundi 29 avril 2013

The Art of Cosidetto




"One means of approach is to like the boys. And they feel it. Look at a flower that opens its blossom in the day and closes itself in the night. Likewise, the boy opens his soul to you if he feels the sunshine of your love.

 "A phrase of a foreign language that you hear from the mouth of a beautiful boy gives the language a beauty of its own

 "There are boys who are so phenomenal that they make your hand tremble. But that is very rare..."

 "... a genuine boy passionately wants to be in the picture. He wants to be recognized as a boy"

 "Italian boys used to show off in front of the camera. There was this pure joy of life..."


 "The boy's appearance and radiation is something almost metaphysical"

 "Love begins with the face"

 "My name Cosidetto is derived fron Wilhelm von Gloeden. I did photos on the very spot he did them. (...) And so one day, someone called me "the so called Wilhelm von Gloeden of Berlin". The word "so called" is "cosi detto" in Italian."

This interview of Cosidetto by Karl Andersson was published in Destroyer 2, October 2006.

Under the shadow of Etna

 
 
"You kissed me, darling, on the mouth,
You let me feel your breath,
The hot moist kisses of the south,
All calmer life is death.

Your surburnt throat, your brown firm breast,
Incomparable sweet,
My fame, my life, my soul, the rest
I flung down at your feet.

It happened this; I knew not how, 
Nor did I ask to know;
My days their course resumed, and now
Monotonously flow"

Reginald "Regy" Baliol Brett, Viscount Esher (1852-1930)
in: Michael Matthew Kaylor (ed.), 
Lad's Love. An Anthology of Uranian Poetry and Prose
Kansas City, Valancourt Books, 2010, vol. 1, p. 133

dimanche 28 avril 2013

Summer memories



Topography of desire


About a boy's face

A cute boy's face is like a library... One can read novels and poems, one can read foreign languages or explore unknown lands...

In my exploration of this eery face, I will start from the hairs... I will let my fingers go across the hairs and let them go down, slowly, very slowly along the cheek... I will then navigate to east, and I will land on the lower lip... Slowly, gently, with the tip of my fingers, I will caress the lower lip, and then the upper lip, from east to west, and I will start again, caressing gently the lower lip... My fingers will then wander through your smooth chin and will navigate again towards north, to your forehead... I will stay for a while caressing your two eyebrows, drinking beauty from the pure spring of your blue eyes...

Your half open lips are already waiting a kiss,  the most ethereal and sensual contact two human beings can experience... Probably because a kiss is at the confluence of the soul and the body...

Behind the veil

I know you are out there, you, the boy friend I am longing for,
I know you are behind the veil, and that I should unveil you...
Or should I unveil me first, and come out to you... ?

I did not meet you yet, but I know I will recognize you at the first glance,
I will know you are the one, the boy friend I am longing for...
I will read in your eyes and on face poems that I wrote so long ago,
And your voice will be a music I am so familiar with...

I know you are so close, sor far away, I know you are out there,
You, the boy friend I am dreaming to meet...
Any desert needs an oasis, you will be the oasis of my life...

I have so much to give, don't you want just a part of it ? You can have the whole of it,
I have just to meet you behind the veil, behind my dreams,
I can almost see you, I guess you are here, I am so close, you are so far...

Mark

Arabic boy (Lehnert photographs)


Your body is warm and tanned like the sand dunes of  desert, but your boyish beauty is like an oasis for the thirsty traveller... Your skin exhales unknown perfumes of rare spices from remote lands, origan, cinnamon and coriander...
You are a pure flower of the young dark-skinned beauty, and so delicate clothes are framing your smooth torsoe, you are sweet and sensual as a mirage in the deep of the desert....

Your smile is charming as the music of a flute while your eyes are tender as a caress for the friend you are looking at... Your face inspires so many loving words that I would love to be a poet and to sing how much I love you...
 You are the quintessence of Oriental boyhood that inspired so many desires and pleasures to poets and merchants, to musicians and travellers....

 You are eternal and intemporal, as the beauty of teen boys is,
You are the blossoming spring of human life,
And loving you is loving spring and its flowers...

Black and White



Five boys and a Greek Pope (Gaston Goor)

Gaston Goor was a French artist, a painter and a sculptor (1902-1977). He is famous for his plates and illustrations for various books, such as Roger Peyrefitte's Les amitiés particulières (Paris, Flammarion, 1953), Renaud Icard's Mon page (edition Paris, Quintes-Feuilles, 2009), Montherlant's L'Etoile du soir (Paris, Editions Henri Lefèbre, 1949) and many others.

Gaston Goor is the author of a many drawings, pastels and paintings commissioned by Roger Peyrefitte and other amateurs: all of them celebrate the beauty of boys, often in an Arcadian setting, with reference to Classical texts, such as Petronius' Satiricon or the Mousa paidiké of the Greek Anthology.

Most of these rare drawings and paintings are now in private collections.

Pretty boy


samedi 27 avril 2013

Iconic pic

It could be a painting... This photograph is composed and built as a painting, with the lanscape in the background, water and hills, with the vertical tree, whose bark emphasizes the warm colors of the beautiful boy in the foreground...

Once upon a time, there was a world where teen boys wore tight shorts, sculpting the shapes and the beauty of their thighs and legs...They also wore T-shirts that let their arms and their shoulders uncovered...

Once upon a time, in summer, teen boys wore so tight clothes, with so beautiful colors, perfectly blended with their tanned skin...

This beautiful pic exudes serenity and calm, intemporal beauty... I guess it is the peaceful landscape in the background and the relaxed pose of the boy...

I think this serenity relies on the plain evidence of the beauty of this teen boy: this beauty and this evidence circulate between the model, the photographer and the viewer...

Dream


Digital Narcissus


Mica's Project Prettyboy (new blog)





  
A beautiful blog to visit here

vendredi 26 avril 2013

First kiss

 
 "Do you remember our first kiss, a long and tender kiss
You closed your eyes and you savored this unknown feeling
When two lovers share their breathe, share their soul,
Their lips closely united, while hands caress faces and hairs... ?

 

Do you remember this warm and wet feeling,
The unforgettable taste of your lover's lips,
So spicy and so sweet at the same time...
You were caressing your lips so dreamily,
Just to still feel the caress of my lips...


I loved looking at you, recovering from ectasy, travelling through the paths of pleasure,
Lingering in these unknown realms where your whole body was still singing its desire,
Trying to keep for ever the taste and the warmth of my lips caressing your ."

Amour

"I remember your face and the depth of your eyes,
I remember your blond hairs and the taste of your lips,
I remember the beauty of your soul and your tenderness towards me

Looking at your face was such a unique experience,
It was like diving into an Ocean of pure beauty and youth,
Looking at your eyes was listening to a haunting music...

We loved each other so much, we were inseparable, we were one soul with two bodies,
And in the deep of the night, we were one body too, one breathe, our love was so fusional..
I loved your voice as well as your silence, your smile as well as your eyes brimming with tears,

When we promissed to love each other for ever, in this life as in our lives to come...
I know we already met in the past, and that we were lovers in London or Berlin,
In Naples or Moscow, in Athens or Alexandria, I have never forgotten your face...

Your eyes will haunt me forever, my loved one, my beautiful lover..."


Beauty


mercredi 24 avril 2013

Quintessence of beauty



Haunting face, hauting memories

You remind me someone I felt in love with, long ago...
You remind me him so much... 
He had the same blond beauty, the same Nordic and German beauty,
There was the same light blond down on his cheeks, on his chin...
He had the same blue eyes and the same haunting face expression...

I felt in such a deep love... But it was a hopeless love... He was not gay... And he was so cute that he had as many girl friends as he wished... And we were such good friends that he was telling me how much he loved his girl friend...

I still remember the day he left and came back to Germany... I felt so much pain... I wanted to die... I missed him so much... I missed his voice, his smile, his laughs... I missed so much his beauty...

It was so long ago... I have written so many letters to tell him I loved him, telling him I knew it was impossible for him to love me in the same way as I did... I wrote so many letters just to tell him the dreams, desires, feelings and thoughts he inspired me and to thank him for his grace, for his beauty, for just being who he was... I told him I felt lucky to have met such a beautiful, nice, gentle and desirable boy in my life...

I have still my letters... I did not send them...

If by any chance he reads my blog, he will understand... he will know...

But I know there is no chance...


Firework


Adonis



mardi 23 avril 2013

Anton

 What is beauty ? How to mirror it ? 
How a photographer could catch it ? How a viewer could feel it ?
These are just a few questions one could raise while looking at these few pics...

 One should admit that photography, as painting or sculpture, is a medium for expressing beauty, for catching the ephemeral beauty of youth, for fixing for ever a fleeting vision...


 Is there art without dream or desire ? Is it possible to look at a beautiful face or body without being attracted to beauty itself, to its concept, to its meaning ?


For a gay man, what does mean looking at the pics of a beautiful teen boy ? No porn pics, no nude pics, just portraits, views of a boy's body surrounded by a veil...


This iconic series was published by an adult web site, teen-boys-world.com, featuring only 18yo models. I felt in love with Anton... Because most of his beauty was hidden and veiled, because everything was suggested, because his face, his gaze were the focus...

I loved the photographer's work too... The way he played with light and shades, the way he created a visual stage for the most intimate feelings and desires...

In this photoset, the veil is what matters the most for me... It creates poetry, it emphasizes what is shown, it les us imagine what is hidden...

There is no dream, no desire, when everything is shown... This photoset of Anton makes me dream thanks to its beauty, to its poetry. Thanks to Anton's beauty and poetry too...