Tag: Beefy Men

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PrismaColor Drawings of My Youth #6; Midnight Snack ’81

I recall, when I joined the Gay Community in Southern California, in 1984, I ran across a stash of Drummer Magazines from the early 80’s. I had seen “Cruising”, starring Al Pacino, in 1980, and thought it was really cool, once you get past the violent murder aspect. “Where do I join?”, was my attitude. But then I read the Drummer Magazines and started going to leather bars, like The Gauntlett II and The One Way. The guys were often attractive to look at, but the sex left me cold. Leather/Bondage/SM is a lot of work to get laid in my opinion. It’s a big world, plenty of room for everybody, but not for me, thanks. The thing that struck me about the fiction in the Drummer magazines was that the guys had to go through all this torture to get elusive flashes of love. Why not just go for the love? That’s what my art is about; going for the love. It took me almost 30 years to realize this: I want love with my sex. Otherwise it doesn’t work for me. This makes casual encounters really messy. LOL (not)

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PrismaColor Drawings of My Youth#5; Hit the Showers ’81

The guy on the left is a super-idealized version of my 7th grade gym coach, Mr. Blasongame (?), the man who did nothing to protect me when I was being repeatedly bullied during second semester. Every day, I was cat-called (“Mrs. Rader” was the favorite), called out for fights after school, etc etc. It didn’t stop until the school year ended and we (my family) went on a summer long car trip around the western half of the United States. For some reason, when I started 8th grade, the bully kids mostly left me alone. My mom’s theory about that was that I filled out, got bigger. But that didn’t protect me the previous year.

I hadn’t hit puberty yet; I didn’t even know what a “fag” was when they started tormenting me with that word. My sin: I was a big (for my age) in-doorsy kid who cried easy. By the time I was done with 7th grade, I vowed nobody would ever make me cry again. It worked okay for a while. However, as I reached adult-hood, I realized I couldn’t cry even if I tried. It’s taken years of work to be able to get to the point where I can cry, on occasion.

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PrismaColor Drawings of My Youth#2; Artist & Model

Actually, the promp for posting these drawings, 30 years after doing them, was that I was contracted  (back in November or December of ’11, to participate in an upcoming Bruno Gmuender anthology entitled Fur. I scanned these drawings from my old sketchbooks, cleaned them up slightly, and sent them to the publisher. I have heard nothing since. I reviewed the contract I signed and see nothing about exclusivity (in case they intend to use any or all of these drawings), so I’m going to post them on my blog.

This drawing is definitely wish fulfillment. I suppose it’s every artist’s dream, in a way: to have sex with one’s models or fantasy figures. At this stage of my life, I was definitely making love to the paper with my pencils, since I had no actual flesh and bone guys to make it with.