Committed to My Art

I struggle with the relationship between form and content in conceptual art, particularly how non-traditional materials convey abstract ideas. During office hours, I grab a piece of paper to sketch out my concept.

“It’s great you’re diving deeper,” Dr. Zoe Liang says, her voice warm.

“Form isn’t just for aesthetics; it’s the vessel for the idea. In conceptual art, materials and presentation are key. For example, if you want to comment on time’s impermanence, you might use decaying materials. Let’s look at some examples to make this clearer. Can you think of any?”

“Not at the moment, no. Sorry, Dr. Liang.” I say.

Dr. Liang is gorgeous—tall and willowy. Today, she wears a burgundy satin button-down blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt that accentuates her heart-shaped bottom and toned legs. Her wavy black hair cascades around her shoulders, framing her striking features.

“No worries at all, that’s what I’m here for!” she smiles, her chestnut eyes twinkling.

She leans over, her blouse gaping slightly to reveal a hint of her curves as she sketches rapidly.

“Take Marcel Duchamp's Fountain—a porcelain urinal presented as sculpture. The mundane material subverts expectations and questions the very nature of art. Or consider Joseph Beuys, who uses felt and fat as recurring motifs, referencing his war trauma and the human condition.”

“The key is choosing materials that have inherent meaning or associations, then presenting them in a way that makes us question and rethink those associations. It's all about provocation and pushing boundaries!”

I swallow, nervously.

“Please, Dr. Liang, call me Ero.”

I continue,

“Well, I made something, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate for school…”

She raises an eyebrow curiously, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her full lips.

“Ero, huh? I like it. Has a certain… edginess to it.”

She leans back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other, the movement causing her skirt to ride up slightly on her thigh.

“And don’t worry about appropriateness. In my classes, we embrace the provocative and the taboo. Art should challenge us, make us uncomfortable sometimes. That's how we grow.”

She uncrosses and recrosses her legs slowly, deliberately.

“So tell me more about this piece of yours. What inspired it? And why do you think it might be 'inappropriate'? I'm always eager to see where my students' minds go, even if it pushes boundaries.”

“Well, it shatters gender roles and expectations. For instance, males are seen as the keepers of power, the ones who penetrate, like with electrical plugs, while females are seen as the receivers, those who are penetrated.”

“I asked, why can’t women penetrate for a change? Why can’t men be the ones who are penetrated every once in a while?”

I hesitate, feeling the weight of my confession.

“I think my device fits the bill of creating something out of impermanent materials. I made a mold of my own penis out of synthetic hydrogel, complete with life-like testicles, fitting it with straps that someone could wear—a two-way component to pleasure the wearer, who would use it to… well, you know.”

“It also has internal components that provide lifelike ejaculation through an actuator, so when the wearer finds their release, they can actually release synthetic semen of my own design from the testicles, through the shaft, and into whatever or whomever they are penetrating.”

Dr. Liang listens intently, her eyes widening slightly as I describe my piece. A faint blush colors her cheeks despite her composure.

“My, my, Ero, that certainly is… ambitious.”

She unconsciously licks her lips, her gaze flickering down to my crotch before meeting my eyes again.

“You’ve taken the male penetrator role and subverted it beautifully. Empowering the female to take control, to penetrate and dominate. It's a bold statement on gender dynamics and sexuality.”

She stands slowly, smoothing her skirt over her hips as she moves around the desk towards me, her heels clicking on the floor.

“And the use of your own body as the model and the material—that's deeply personal, intimate. The synthetic semen, the ejaculation function... it pushes the boundaries of what's considered acceptable in fine art.”

I speak up in defense of my art.

“I had to do it because so many of these pieces are made haphazardly, and though they give women the opportunity to penetrate, they don’t often provide the ability to ejaculate and thus do fulfil the dominant male role of spreading seed, marking territory—planting a flag, if you will.”

I whisper, nervously.

“Dr. Liang… do you… want to see it?”

She takes a sharp intake of breath, her pupils dilating with intrigue and barely concealed arousal at my bold invitation. She steps closer, now mere inches away, the heat of her body palpable.

“See it?”

Her voice is low, almost a purr, as she reaches out to trail a perfectly manicured finger along my jawline.

“Ero, you’re playing a dangerous game here. Offering such a… personal, intimate artwork to your professor.”

Her other hand rests on my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart beneath her palm.

“But you're right; it would be remiss of me not to examine it thoroughly from an academic standpoint.”

She looks up at me through her lashes, a coy smile playing about her lips.

“Whip it out, my daring student.”

She giggles at her own double entendre, trying to put me at ease.

“I’m okay with it if you are. I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing, but if it's art, and you are comfortable handling it, then… why not?”

“I can make something else, but this is what I want to submit as my project, you know, if you will allow it…”

She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful even as excitement simmers in her deep brown eyes.

“I understand completely, Ero. Pushing boundaries, challenging norms—that's the essence of groundbreaking art.”

She takes my hand, her skin soft and warm against mine as she interlaces our fingers.

“Your willingness to bare yourself, literally and figuratively, for your art… that’s the mark of a true visionary.”

She leads me toward the door of her office, pausing with her hand on the knob to look back at me over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Let’s continue this discussion somewhere more… private, shall we? My apartment isn't far. We can spread out, really examine your piece in detail.”

She opens the door, gesturing for me to precede her.

“After you, my brave artist.”

I walk out of her office and follow her to her car—a beautiful cream-colored Mercedes with matching leather seats.

She opens the passenger door for me, the scent of her perfume enveloping me as I slide into the luxurious leather seat. She walks around to the driver's side, her hips swaying slightly, and slips behind the wheel. As she starts the engine, the purr of the powerful motor seems to echo the tension thrumming between us.

“Ero,” she glances over at me with a small smile.

Her hand rests high on my thigh, her touch electric even through the fabric of my pants.

“This piece of yours… it’s going to generate quite a stir. In more ways than one, I suspect.”

She turns a corner, the city lights glinting off her windshield as she navigates towards her apartment building.

When we arrive at her apartment, she lets me in.

“Where would you like me to put this?” I say, jingling my backpack

She locks the door behind us, turning to face me with a sultry smile. She steps closer, her body nearly brushing against mine in the entryway.

“My office.” she responds.

I can hear the playful undertone in her voice as she reaches up to loosen the top button of her blouse, revealing the creamy column of her throat.

“How deliciously scandalous this is”, she grins.

She slips out of her blazer, revealing the sleek lines of her burgundy blouse. Dr. Liang drapes it carefully over a nearby chair, then turns back to me, her hands coming to rest on my chest.

“Now then, my naughty pupil…”

She walks her fingers up my sternum, her touch feather-light and teasing.

“Show me this masterpiece of yours. Don’t hold anything back.”

To be continued in chapter two...