I guess I touched a few nerves with my rant on porn and art a little while ago. I got a fun comment from a guy named Ron, and then I read this, over at LukeIsBack!:

David Aaron Clark replies to IShootPorn:

What a tedious debate; particularly when the smug know-nothings on the “nay” side are as sure of themselves as they are that the earth is flat. Of course porn can be & sometimes is art — this is not a new development, & the porn that crosses the line into art is not only not necessarily but rarely the stuff that loudly claims to be for the sake of the director’s ego or marketing strategies — those who insist “no, no, nope, can’t be” sound as stupid as those who once argued that comic strips, comic books, jazz, pop music, even photography & movies (!) cannot instrinically be “art.” Note that these are all art forms that began (except for photography) in the earlier part of the 20th century … hardcore porn as an organized genre dates at best to the late ’60s, in addition to which it dives directly into the subject of sexual desire & satisfaction, an “illicit” subject matter which comics, jazz, etc., were all accused in their infancy of invoking & promoting … In another 25 years or so, after there’s something akin to a comprehensive critical body of work on the form, these neo-philistines will sound as comical as the uptight Southern rednecks in 1950s newsreels denouncing “race music.”

Does “IShootPorn” even realize that by choosing Duchamp, Warhol & Pollack as examples of actual “artists,” he’s zeroing in on three figures whose status as legimate artists were in fact hotly debated in their respective eras, with the majority of both the general public & the fine art establishment both giving initial thumbs-down to the question? Or that most certainly Peter Paul Reubens’ work has launched uncounted onanistic orgasms for centuries? Believe it or not, oh middlebrow-one, there have been many generations of masturbators –including the majority of modern-day wankers — with enough of an imagination & engagement with beauty & human sexuality to be able find squirt-worthy inspiration in something besides the mean-spirited, lowest-common-denominator “heet getting pounded by a dude, and she takes a big ol’ load to the kisser. Especially if she didn’t want it on her face. Or a cute white chick getting banged by a big-dicked brother” you espouse as the sin qua non of smut on your little blog.

Sin qua non of smut? That’s some good shit. I mean is all this educated talk is really meant to confuse? Who knew there were so many pornographers that made it past the 7th grade?!

I feel kinda bad now, cause I’m really not a smug guy. Do I sound smug? A bit sarcastic at times, maybe. But smug?

And a know-nothing? Well, now my feelings are really hurt.

Why am I on the nay side? Nay side of what? I love porn! I really don’t get it. I must be a know-nothing. Although I do know, in its infancy, porn as a genre had some sort of plot for only one reason: to avoid obscenity prosecution. And we could go round and round, but that would be silly. Accorinding to Mr. Clark, I guess we’ll just have to wait to, like, 2030 or so, to see if such masterpieces like Cafe Flesh or, perhaps, one of Eon McKai’s “films”, are being talked about.

And really, right now no one can really say. If someone said, in 1968, that one of R. Crumb’s drawings would fetch anything more than a hamburger at McDonald’s, well…they’d be called crazy.

Call me crazy…but 25 years from now I’m saying a quarter pounder with cheese will hold more value than Kill Girl Kill #3. Or AZN Ultra-Idols.

So time to work on my little blog some more. That is, right after I get this big-dicked brother on my set to blast a wad of jizz into blondie’s face – whether she likes it or not.