Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Notice of my imminent release from the clinic has resuscitated my libido. It revived suddenly, a hot rush of longing and wetness. I felt like a prisoner who'd been in for a long stretch. I couldn't help thinking about who I'd do – and how – when I got out. A relentless, vivid mash-up of sexual memories welled up from my subconscious: not-so-straight couplings enhanced with glass and silicon sex toys, strap-ons, latex, oils, ice cubes, food, fists, tongues, cocks, breasts and bodily fluids. The day I get out, I'm going to check into a hotel for a couple of days and have everything I've imagined sent up to my room.A raging libido is a reliable signal that I'm ready to make art again. Sex isn't apparent in the drawings and paintings I've been working on recently but it's still an urgent inspiration. Its elemental sensations run like a hot wire down my spine and radiate out to my pelvis. Insidiously seductive but raw, confronting and difficult to contain or control, they're a physical expression of the unrestrained, messy emotional responses I want to provoke with my work.The best sex – and the best art – is expelled from the subconscious and leaves one with nowhere to hide. At its most intense, my libido is pure energy: not just sexual but physical, emotional, intellectual, and creative. It inflames my curiosity and compels me to be, quite literally, open to everything.I'm relieved to have it back.