The crucifixion of porn on my living room wall

If the statue of David were in my home instead of the Galleria dell'Accadamia in Florence, then ... well, then my house wouldn't be my house, but a museum.

And we will get to that point later. But first let me tell you what *is* in my home.

I have a large poster of "Woman in Sea" by Herb Ritts hanging in my study. It is a print of a black and white photograph, depicting a woman from behind standing in wind-rustled water. She is wearing a bikini bottom but no top. Her long hair hangs down her back, sleek and as one mass ending in a point.

It is certainly not pornographic. Some would say say it isn't even erotic. In fact, the only thing even suggestive about it is that we know her breasts are bare to the sea and that they could be to us if someday she would become three dimensional and turn around.

Never liking being defined or labeled, I sometime later decided to shake up the expectations (and sensibilities?) of visitors by acquiring a companion for her. I bought an equally large poster of "Fred with Tyres" by the same artist. Fred hangs on a perpendicular wall to the woman in the sea. Should she morph and turn while I am out of the house or sleeping, at least he will have the benefit.

Fred stands in a grimy, greasy garage and he is holding two tires, ready to sling them in a way that will remind us of Greek discus competitors. He is wearing baggy pants slung low on his waist and his naked upper torso is grimy to refract the garage, and it is muscled perfection to refract the Greek Olympians.

Again, not pornographic. Erotic only in its suggestion.

This essay is less about the age-old discussion about the difference between the two. (I find that discussion only intriguing between two people who are drinking wine and practiced in the art of flirtation by denial of acknowledgment.) Rather, this piece is about how much of either is appropriate to display in one's home.

Upstairs in my bathroom, I have a signed photograph by the photographer Trevor Watson. (Surprisingly enough I couldn't find an official website of his. But you can google his work.) Now here there is little debate. His art is erotic. His art is pornographic. The particular photograph I have is on the erotic end of his spectrum. It is taken from above a bubble-filled bathtub in which lies a woman whose arms lie crossed on the edge of the tub and her head is craned back to look into the camera. The only other body part revealing itself from the bubbles is her bubble but.

This discussion becomes apropo now because I am deciding what to do with three prints in which nudes are central to the content. My favorite is comprised only of nudes. It depicts a dreamy collage-type of many nudes, all intertwined. To me, it is as if they are a pod of intermingling mermaids. Then I look again and see they are individuals. No, the same woman in different instances of the same dream. They are various muses, why didn't I recognize that? Because you can't glorify splayed legs as anything else than base invitations to uninventive acts. This morphing vision of haunting, soothing images floods my mind whenever I look at the print. Which is why it attracts and inspires me.

Art should ask us questions.

And one of the questions this piece is asking right now is: Do I hang it in my house? Again, if this were a museum, then the answer is clear: Absolutely. It is okay to have what is arguably porn if not at least blatant erotica if your house is the Galleria dell'Accadamia. If I were an artist bachelor living in a loft in Tribeca, then why the hell not. It might even be the most tame among the more flamboyant works.

But I am not those. I am a man living in home in which I entertain (too rarely) a variety of friends who all have different values. From friends who wouldn't give two thoughts to this moral question and appreciate the print, to my second father who is old-school Italian. And though he might laugh, he would do so while shaking his head.

Does the work's provenance have any influence on this? Does it make a difference whether the artist is famous? How famous does the artist have to be for this question not to matter anymore? If the artist is Picasso, then there is no question. But what if I told you it was the product of my ever-stoned neighbor whose model was the junkie girlfriend he abused and then kicked out. Now we feel differently about the work.

Now we know the artist is a nobody; an abusive one at that. And we feel sorry for the model (or models.) The work's value is diminished. Regardless of its objective quality. We are ashamed to "tell its story."

The print is not the work of a drug addict. The print is a signed and numbered print (one of ten) by the artist Herbert Fink. A reproduction of the print appears in John Gardner's book The King's Indian.

And so now, its story is a good one to tell.

But the question is still being begged. Appropriate to hang this gaggle of naked girls?

What if I tell you that I have a twelve-year-old daughter who makes this house her abode every other weekend? Does that influence your opinion?

And perhaps this is, of all, the essential question. I have no problem explaining my tastes, both on a visceral level and on a philosophical one, to my peers. But how do I explain to a 12-year-old the differences between the values of this prude American society and my European appreciation of beauty?

I wish I had some answers with which to finish this entry. I don't.

I know what I am going to do. I am going to have the print framed and I will hang it. I think I will pick a less prominent spot, but I am not certain about that either.

And I am least certain about what I will say if my daughter asks about the picture. But I do know this: I feel to the depth of my being that there is nothing wrong with appreciating the body in the form it was created. And since that is at the core of my beliefs, I know I will come up with the right words to explain why I like it and why I hung it up.

Or maybe I will just direct her to this entry.

(PS: I don't have my camera with me, so I couldn't take a decent shot of the print. Click on the above pic and you will see a larger photo that I have from the print's appearance in Gardner's book.)