When does art become porn? And why do I react differently to those words? Porn has negative connotations to me. Porn is dirty, undignified, disgusting. It has no plot, no thought, no meaning. Art is a creative process. Art is done with thought and meaning, for everyone to appreciate and enjoy. Art is dignified and beautiful.
When I did photography before, I thought of it as art. When the photographer started talking about doing a pay site. Started talking about charging people to see the bondage photos. It became porn in my mind. It became something lower than the art I felt we had been creating.
I liked being a bondage model. The energy, the play, the fun. But a porn star? Have a bunch of creepy men perving my pictures after paying a fee? I didn’t want that. To be part of a photographer’s portfolio was one thing, but to be on a paid porn site is another.
Maybe I’m deluded, fooling myself. Maybe it’s all the same. Can’t blame a man for wanting to make a living at his passion. No, but I also don’t have to be part of it. The photographer has plenty of models and photos and contacts. He doesn’t have to put my pictures up. And he is completely willing to not do.
So, what’s the trouble with saying no? The photographer wants to put them up, and I am a pleaser. He says he wants a good variety when he first goes live and my pictures would help with that. I do like attention, and the pictures he has taken. What if he linked back to my blog, since he can’t actually pay me? (If my face didn’t show in any of the pictures. But in one set it does, I’ve got a big gag covering half my face, but I still can see me in them.) They say any publicity is good publicity. I don’t want to be a porn star, but what harm could a little publicity do? And that phrase right there makes me want to knock on every wooden surface in my home.
