Exhibition is the basis

You don't show up without a desire to show off. When someone arrives on a stage, what the audience sees entering from the room is first of all a body. There's no way around that. A thought, yes, perhaps, then, but embodied in a body. It is this anchoring that can eventually make sublime, astonishing, fantastic, exciting, the flight of this thought beyond this body. From then on, it's all a matter of degree. Some, some will prefer to try to make you forget this body, others will feel the desire to put it under your nose. This relationship, which must be taken in all the ambiguity of its meaning: to relate, to tell, is what will determine the nature of the relationship to the other present at this moment in front of you. The one who is there to look, see, hear, feel, react, imagine. Such a situation, artificially provoked, is obviously - there is nothing new to say but it is not useless to recall it - an opportunity for expression for the desire on both sides. Desire to simply be there, desire to go away, desire vaguely tinged with sexuality, suddenly precipitating sometimes into hysterical symptoms when it is conveyed by an adequate rhythm. Thus it is necessary to the intimateIt's like a desired incarnation, good or badly invoked depending on the skill of the leader and the receptivity of the audience, but always at the heart of the stage situation. Privacy and exhibition are linked by nature.

The deity "Intimate" and the god "Exhibition"...

The following definitions apply intimate what is particularly personal and close to us, but also what we have, as we say, "between our legs", at the junction of our thighs should we say. These sexes, although rarely displayed in our daily lives outside of so-called "intimate" relationships, still largely represent an inescapable identity for each and everyone. Whether we are determined as women, men or of another claimed gender, is considered as the primary character of our social life. It is what determines everything or almost everything. Just behind it, relegated to the rank of temperament colours is personality. It may seem strange that mankind, proclaiming loudly and clearly its superiority over the animal world, has chosen to rely on appearance as the main criterion for founding its social structure, but here again, the body envelope remains decisive, and if the world appears to us as a vast stage, there is no reason why the individual, like the actor, should not first be perceived by the image that his physicality reflects.

Of course, the family, the functionality of these bodies, is a determining factor in the social organization and its stem cell. One sows, the other grows. Sexual reproduction is a form of primitive agriculture, spearheading the expansion of many species. A human particularity, not quite exclusive but almost as inseparable from our constitution as laughter, is the taste for the image, the transfer through representation, the projection of ideas and desires from simulacra. The body, through its attributes, organs and limbs, holds a preponderant place in these phenomena. Classical cinema has consecrated the face through the close-up, dance has erected an altar to the rigour of movement and then to its dislocation, painting and sculpture have focused on the contemplation of forms, theatre has put the body into action as much as it has reduced it to the smallest support of a radiant thought. Along the way, with comings and goings, sometimes a few centuries or decades apart, all these iconographic arts went to meet nudity, with the reality of the sexes as a focus or simple horizon line when censorship could be severe.

We could name genital landscapeThe incommensurably giant image behind all these attempts to bring our gaze closer to organs that are ultimately so small in proportion to our physiognomy. And yet this is what we are trying to see and what we want to 'show'. It's also where we touch each other.

Pathways of mental arousal

A sex, penis or vagina, is worth for itself as an appetizing or unappetizing object. This law is only valid for a genital image detached from the rest of the body and even more so excluding this famous personality which is expressed through the features of a face and through a pair of eyes that convey the thought that drives it. As soon as the complex expressiveness of the face comes into play, the opposite movement occurs. The contamination of the feeling that the gaze inspires descends from the head to the hitherto anonymous sex, suddenly characterising it with all the tenderness, indifference or repulsion that the brain at the controls of this body has indirectly made us feel. This is where love in its corporeal translation. That's the excitement. Humans therefore bandage for a look or a postcard, for the feeling of a soul or for a porn image, indifferently, but not for the same causes, nor for the same subjects. It can be very distressing to have to face one day the physical portrait of one's lover/mistress by letter or telephone that one would never have met before.

So sooner or later, fantasy must be put aside in favour of reality.

Pornography is the shortest route to sentient being. It excites; it tells what is; it tells what we ourselves do in our bubble of intimacy; it puts us face to face with what we are without unnecessary frills. To deny it these qualities is to deny as foolishly as it is outrageously to deny the life that animates us. How, then, can we tolerate the silly nonsense that is sorely felt in the grimacing face of an infant when it is combined with the circumstantial disgust of a filmed or still-image penetration?

So what do you expect from a shot of your own crotch at the very moment you're making your offspring?

The exhibition, which is also free, is the most legitimate approach in terms of representation. Please, spare us the justifications that would aim to say " I allow myself nudity, but there are good dramatic reasons for that.... "Modesty is a step towards turpitude.

The world with its procession of primitive beliefs and violence is in this pitiful distress only because man maintains the culture of refusing to look at himself for what he really is, at every moment.

To describe sexual exhibition is to deny the reality of coitus, the most banal of our realities, in favour of an illusion of self, mother of all violence in reaction to the terror of being finally only "that".

This ridiculous time of existence that is ours with regard to our desires, could be sweet, simple and teeming with ideas; in other words, simply creative. Prude, falsehood, grotesque shame, stupid self-importance and sickly malice just make it a hell of a mediocrity.