Exhibition of the body | Photo © David Noir
Self-portrait | Photo © David Noir

Essentially naked: prefer the exhibition of the body to a certain appearance

Nudity Culture | Nudity Culture

I look with suspicion at those who utter words with exhibitionist ease but never have the simplicity of exposing their naked bodies.

I have always hated writing, and even more so the book, regarded by the literate as a real object of worship. Today, I am indifferent to both. During my days and nights, I absorb myself entirely in this indifference which now makes them liveable, useful, sometimes necessary.
I don't think I need to say much more today on a subject I know too well and which, because it's so obvious, is easy to read in my ultimately simple life.

That of a forced anti-vocation, blackmail and psychological torture under the yoke of the vanity of a father in search of genial filiation and for whom anyone who neither reads nor writes can only be an individual devoid of light; a fool. To talk more about him would be to talk about him, my father, once again. Well, that says it all for me. From now on, and for as long as I can remember, I'll have to make do with this false gift. Too bad.

The texts, the words, the sentences, I only managed to love them once they were carried by bodies of the most immediate nudity.

The exposed sexes utter the words of a speech much more eloquently. That's how I like them. Embedded between the teeth of a mouth, expelled through an asshole.

Thought is never more refined than rid of its appearance gangue.

As a result, I'm as interested in the words of our everyday language as I am wary of them.

So, I do not frequent politicians or great orators. I don't want good old friends with whom to chat without ever having seen the body; I don't want nice family memories, but I do want to explore the memory of what I make. That of my senses; that of my contradictions.

Kept as a child in ignorance of the real world, of the charms and dangers of socialising with others, my weakness of character, which some would call my affection for my progenitors, prevented me from going beyond that gleaming and artificial coral barrier known as social intercourse.

Soaked in the lagoon in the warm waters of a self-centered existence, I became a slow growing shell. Taken out of my shell by an existence set in motion, like a mussel forced to open, immersed in the bubbling bath of the life that struck, I could not cling for long to another rock in such a rapid flow.

Having understood it in depth, I now set out to drift at my own ease, too small to intrigue the sharks, too big to risk going through it. the baleen of a whaletoo daily naked to be stripped of my acquired advantages.

Nudity and culture

To be civilized means accepting one's animality.
My animal part | My sperm dripping from my acorn | Capture d'screen © David Noir 2012
simply
My animal part | My sperm dripping from my acorn | Capture d'screen © David Noir 2012
fearless

My pornography

My prodigious mental space