There have been umpteen euphemisms attached to our genital organs but the real names of our genitals never formed a part of routine conversations. They are down there, tucked somewhere deep within our panties and Rupa macro man briefs. But one could still feel them, touch them, or smell them. Yeah, I love the sour, lemon tart like smell of my vulva and I love the wetness inside me as I get aroused. But for men? I could never bring myself to lookup to their organ while having sex. Yeah, I would get frightened by the giant, hose-like rigid organ. It just got inserted and thrusted.
Thankfully my kid is a boy and thus for the first time, I could have a look at the male genital organ. A small, arched, sausage-like thing. While bathing and dressing him, I could feel the softness of his skin. And wondered how the same genteel-ness gets translated into fear, disgust, and discomfort for the shrunken, chocolate brown organ of an adult man? Yeah, I never liked seeing penises; admiring those penises. Until I found Sol et Anima’s penis artwork. And boy! I was enthralled. The whole morbid penis world transformed into a state-of-the-art shaft of desire.
The rich blue colored fist in this painting resembles the color of vishya (poison) that Shiva swallowed inside his throat. The same poison of lust, runs deep inside a woman’s soul, making her blind to her logic and surrender on the bed naked. The woman holds this blue colored fist with her tender forefingers and sups the foreskin by her mouth, nibbling it post her night’s meal. It is obvious that certain fits of hunger cannot be satiated alone by the food.
Which meal tastes better? The one served on the dinner table under the luminescence of LED lights or the one served under the dim flicker of the night bulb? The woman cannot admit it in her coquetry. One is a need to live, and the other is desired to be alive. It’s a paradox, for both these states rarely coexist. If we live longer, we are not alive and if we choose to remain alive, the life looks short.
I asked the painter, her interpretation of the painting and here’s what she has shared:
This art means that this man is ejaculating a constellation of wildflowers (semen), in the boundless sky of lust and love. The wildflowers are spread afar in the air, like the seeds of a Jambul tree. Cruising their way inside the ridges of the vagina, to produce a chalk white juice of semen and vaginal lubrication’s. Sex and masturbation is an art but most people don’t look at it that way.
Her painting makes the dick photogenic. Isn’t it? Wouldn’t our genitals be ridden from the shame and mistrust if all of us had grown up in a world in which our genitals looked this beautiful? Our drawing halls and bedroom walls are adorned by the paintings of penis art – bright green, bluish tinge, hot pink, electric red, and butter orange. A vivid world of imagination of rich hues and fantasies for our genitals, unfurled into our minds through these paintings? I think to make a world more accepting and emboldening towards sex, it’s time to make this artwork a part of our lives.