Pic of the Day

Thursday Check-In

I spoke to my doctor last night as he was preparing the paperwork for my leave request. Unfortunately, things aren’t improving as quickly as I’d hoped. I still can’t sit or stand for more than a few minutes at a time, and walking more than a dozen steps makes the pain nearly unbearable. I told him I was aiming to return to work on Monday, thinking I might finally have the right combination of medications to function again. He told me that was overly optimistic. Realistically, he expects I’ll be out at least two more weeks.

Today has already started off rough. I had a hard time falling asleep last night, and Isabella, ever punctual, wanted to be fed at her usual 5:00 a.m. breakfast time. She was somewhat patient and let me sleep until 5:30.

After feeding her and brewing a cup of coffee, I settled in with an episode of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. That might sound like a decent way to start the day—except I’ve also got a migraine on top of everything else.

At least I can sleep the day away if I want to. And right now, that’s probably the best plan.

Isabella Pic of the Week:
She’s been curling up on a black blanket lately—so well camouflaged that I nearly jump out of my skin every time the blanket moves. It’s her own personal cloaking device. Somewhere, a Romulan engineer is taking notes. 🖖🐾

Still Kickin’ (Just Not Very High)

The news from the MRI wasn’t what I’d hoped—but it also wasn’t the worst-case scenario I’d braced myself for. The results showed that my liver is far from healthy, though, thankfully, not beyond hope. It seems I drew a losing ticket in the genetic lottery more than anything else; there’s no obvious cause rooted in lifestyle. In fact, the radiologist noted I show hidden signs of liver disease, but no outward ones. No jaundice. No swelling. No visible markers at all.

That’s not nothing. And considering I’d already made a lot of lifestyle changes before this diagnosis ever came into the picture, there’s reason to be cautiously optimistic that things may not progress—at least not quickly, and hopefully, not at all. I’m asymptomatic now. 🤞 And with any luck (and a continued commitment to healthy habits), I’ll stay that way.

As far as lifestyle changes go, the only major shift I really have to make is to completely give up alcohol. That won’t be hard. I’ve never been much of a drinker—an occasional margarita or glass of wine at most. And honestly, over the past ten years, even those moments have been rare.

Now, turning to my back—which has been the more urgent issue, pain-wise—the x-ray results haven’t come back yet, so I don’t have any answers on that front. My doctor and I are currently in the trial-and-error phase of finding a balance between pain management and actually being able to function like a human being. The higher dosage of medication yesterday knocked the pain out… and me along with it. I was barely able to stay awake, let alone do anything useful. We’re adjusting things again today and hoping for a better balance.

If we can get it right, I should be able to return to work. That is, assuming I can walk far enough and stand or sit long enough without the kind of pain that makes you question your entire spinal column’s existence.

In the meantime, my doctor has put in orders for physical therapy and an MRI of my lumbar spine and has referred me to a spinal specialist. I already have an appointment—but it’s not until October 14. I’m on their cancellation list, though, and I’m crossing all fingers and toes that something opens up sooner. No word yet on when PT or the lumbar MRI will happen, but I do hope I get to see my usual physical therapist. She knows my body and we get along very well. It’s nice to know that the staff at my doctor’s clinic—which includes the PT clinic—have remarked to my doctor how pleasant it is every time I come in. They genuinely look forward to seeing me, though I know they wish it was only for routine stuff and not more urgent medical needs.

That’s the state of things for now. If I don’t overdo it, I can function fairly well. But the moment I push too far—bend too much, stand too long, walk too far—it’s excruciating.

I know this blog hasn’t looked quite like itself lately. I miss writing poetry posts and art history features just as much as you might miss reading them. But for now, all I can manage are health updates—and I appreciate you bearing with me while I get through this stretch. I hope we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

Until then, be well—and take care of your backs, livers, and everything in between.

Pic of the Day

No Poem Today

There won’t be a poem on the blog today. While I am feeling a bit better this morning, the change in my medication has left me far too drowsy to write a proper post. I’m also still waiting to hear back from my doctors about the latest tests.

Yesterday was an ordeal—just getting around involved far too much walking, and it took a toll on me. Hopefully, I’ll have more energy (and fewer side effects) soon.

Thank you for your patience and kindness.

Pic of the Day

Starting the Week, One Careful Step at a Time

My sciatica still hasn’t improved much. I’ve found that if I can get into just the right position, stay still, and do a little gentle stretching, I can be somewhat pain-free for a while. But for the most part, walking remains difficult. That said, today has been a little better—just enough to give me some hope.

Yesterday, I had to make a run to CVS, and I was dreading the outing. But surprisingly, sitting in the car turned out to be quite relaxing. I always step out of my car with my left leg, but when I get up from the couch or bed, the pressure usually falls on my right leg—which is where the worst of the pain is. Because I wasn’t putting as much weight on that side, I was able to stand and walk around the store with relatively little discomfort. It seems the key is avoiding any twisting of my torso. I only wish I could replicate the ergonomics of my car seat elsewhere, but my couch is too low and my bed too high to offer the same kind of relief.

Today is going to be a long one. I have to be at the hospital by 7:15 this morning (which means I’ll be walking out the door right as this post goes live) for an MRI of my liver. While I’m there, I’m also scheduled for a lumbar x-ray to take a closer look at what’s happening with my back.

Since I had to fast for the MRI, I’ll be very glad when I can finally drink some water—and even more so when I can get something to eat afterward. Depending on how I’m feeling, I may stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things before heading home.

One thing’s for sure: I’ll be happy to walk back through the door to my apartment when the day is done.

Here’s hoping the rest of the week is gentler, more comfortable, and maybe even a little brighter. Wishing you all a peaceful Monday and a good start to the week.

Pic of the Day

What Will It Profit a Man?

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?

— Mark 8:36 

 

In this fraught time in our nation’s life, it is impossible to ignore the unsettling reality: a large portion of American politicians, and many ordinary citizens who call themselves Christians, have thrown their full support behind a man whose words and deeds contradict the teachings of Christ at nearly every turn. They defend cruelty, deceit, and corruption, often excusing it as political necessity. And it is heartbreaking to witness beloved family members — even parents who once taught us values of kindness and humility — swept up in a movement built on pride, division, and hatred.

How can this be? How can those who profess Christ justify following a leader who “calls evil good, and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20), who mocks the poor, exploits fear, and sows hatred for neighbor? Jesus Himself warned us of this kind of moral compromise in Mark 8:36: “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?”

This is a piercing question for our time. It exposes the heart of the problem: many have chosen political power, wealth, or cultural dominance over the integrity of their own souls. They believe that by aligning themselves with worldly success — even if it requires abandoning truth, compassion, and decency — they will come out on top. But Jesus teaches otherwise: such a bargain leads only to ruin.

The Apostle Paul reminds us plainly in 1 Timothy 6:10, “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” While “money” here may mean literal wealth, it also points to the hunger for worldly power and influence. Many today justify their allegiance to a man who elevates himself above others and calls it “winning,” but Jesus warned that “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” (Matthew 23:12).

Even more alarming is the distortion of Christianity itself. Some declare that this man is “chosen by God,” despite his public mockery of Christian faith, his encouragement of violence, and his utter disregard for the teachings of Jesus, who preached love, mercy, and peace. Yet Scripture is clear: “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 4:16). Can one truly abide in Christ while supporting hate, division, cruelty, and lies?

Jesus said plainly: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34–35). Not by tribal loyalty. Not by political identity. By love.

When those who claim to follow Christ align themselves with what is unloving, unjust, or cruel, they reveal that they have forgotten His way. In doing so, they risk their very souls — not in the sense of a simple transactional punishment, but because they are being formed in the image of what they worship. If you worship power, you become hardened. If you worship hatred, you grow bitter. If you excuse lies, you become unable to see truth.

Mark 8:36 compels us to ask: What is worth more — temporary worldly gains, or the health and wholeness of the soul? If we win the world but lose compassion, if we gain influence but forfeit integrity, what have we truly won? Nothing. We have traded away what matters most.

In this moment, each of us must choose — not just once, but daily — whether we will abide in the love of Christ or follow the siren call of power and division. “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15). Will we cling to Christ, who is Love, who is Truth, who is the Prince of Peace? Or will we give ourselves over to what is false and fleeting?

As you consider the words of Jesus — “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?” — ask yourself: Where in my life am I tempted to trade integrity for comfort, truth for approval, or love for power? Do the leaders and causes I support reflect the heart of Christ — or the ambitions of the world? How can I more fully embody Jesus’ command to love one another, even when it is difficult or unpopular? May we each seek daily to choose love, truth, and the way of Christ, no matter the cost.

The soul of the Church in America — and the soul of every individual — is at stake.

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: Summer Reading

Summer has always felt like the perfect season to escape into a good book. Back in grad school, I kept a growing stack of books by my bedside all year long—almost always gay fiction, mostly lighthearted romances or mysteries—waiting patiently for summer break when I wasn’t buried in academic reading. There’s something especially satisfying about choosing what you want to read and getting lost in a story just for fun. So I’m curious—what are you reading this summer? Do you pick lighthearted fiction, or dive into something more serious like history, biography, or true crime?

Pic of the Day

Easing Into the Weekend

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Pic of the Day

Doctors, X-rays, and More Medications, Oh My!

After three weeks of worsening right-sided lower back pain and sciatica, I followed up with my doctor yesterday morning. The pain radiates from my lower back through my glute and spirals down my leg to the top of my foot—sometimes feeling like fire in the lower leg. It’s particularly aggravated when I try to walk upright or wear anything that presses against my waist. Getting dressed is an ordeal, and some days I end up in the loosest, softest clothing possible—more accurately draped than worn—while I try to find a semi-comfortable position on the couch.

We also talked about some of the stranger symptoms I’ve been experiencing—odd sensory disturbances, like feeling a blanket over my legs when nothing is there. My physical exam pointed to probable nerve root involvement—likely L5, though L3 or L4 could also be affected. Thankfully, there were no red flags like muscle weakness or foot drop. The steroid I’ve been taking (dexamethasone) hasn’t helped much, though oxycodone gives me a few hours of temporary relief.

My treatment plan now includes continuing the steroid and anti-inflammatories, switching to Flexeril for muscle relaxation, and a higher dose of oxycodone for pain control. I’m staying on gabapentin and Tylenol as well. X-rays of my lumbar spine have been ordered, since the spine specialist won’t see me without them. We also discussed my upcoming liver MRI at UVM, but unfortunately, it can’t be modified to scan my lower back. The liver MRI is a specialized study to measure scarring and uses different protocols than spinal imaging. Plus, the hospital plans to bill for two separate MRIs—not just one. And since most spine MRIs aren’t ordered until symptoms persist beyond six weeks (I’m currently at week three), we’re holding off on that for now.

All of that was already weighing heavily on me when last night brought something new: a zing of pain so sharp it made me jump. I accidentally touched a spot on the top of my foot, and it felt like an electric shock—like the nerve pain was suddenly shooting outward from my body instead of into it. It was a strange, almost surreal sensation. That’s when the lower half of my leg started aching fiercely, from knee to foot. It felt like the pain was caught in a funnel cloud, swirling away and dragging my nerves with it.

I probably overdid it yesterday—between the doctor’s appointment, the pharmacy, and picking up some orders at Walmart and Kohl’s, I was on my feet more than I’ve been in a while. I thought I was pacing myself, but apparently my body had other plans.

Today I’m trying to rest again. It’s hard not to get discouraged, but at least I know I have a treatment plan in motion and a few more pieces of the puzzle. I just hope tonight brings a better kind of stillness.

—

Have you ever experienced pain that felt… strange? Not just sharp or dull, but eerie—like your body was telling you something in a language you didn’t understand?

And here’s your Isabella pic of the week:

Pic of the Day

The Search for Relief

This morning I have a doctor’s appointment to figure out what’s going on with my back. Over the past several days, the pain has become much worse and nearly impossible to ignore.

It started as lower right back pain, but now it spirals downward in a strange, radiating pattern — wrapping around my thigh, then shooting straight down my leg all the way to my foot. Walking is tricky at best. I can take maybe two to four steps upright before the intense pain kicks in, or I can shuffle around stooped over at almost a 90-degree angle, which oddly makes the pain more manageable.

Sitting is out of the question. After just a few minutes in a chair, the pain flares and forces me to stand. The only position that gives me any real relief is lying on my couch with my lower legs slightly elevated. When the pain is at its worst, I’ve found a couple of stretches that help — either pulling my knee up to my chest or resting my ankle and gently stretching my bent leg downward.

Even getting dressed has become a bit of a challenge. Every waistband, seam, and bit of fabric seems to press exactly where it hurts most, making clothes feel more like punishment than comfort. So you can imagine how I’m “dressed” while lying here on the couch, trying to find the most comfortable position — let’s just say modesty has taken a back seat to relief.

I’m hoping the doctor can figure out what’s causing this and how to treat it. At this point, I just want to walk upright again without feeling like someone’s driving a hot poker into my back and leg.

I’ll update you all later when I know more.

Have any of you ever experienced something like this? How did you cope while waiting for answers?

Pic (Painting) of the Day

“ new selfie painting,” gouache on board

Max (artist) 

@matthewcats_art (X) / @matthewcats (Instagram)

The Mountain

The Mountain
By Robert Frost

The mountain held the town as in a shadow
I saw so much before I slept there once:
I noticed that I missed stars in the west,
Where its black body cut into the sky.
Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall
Behind which I was sheltered from a wind.
And yet between the town and it I found,
When I walked forth at dawn to see new things,
Were fields, a river, and beyond, more fields.
The river at the time was fallen away,
And made a widespread brawl on cobble-stones;
But the signs showed what it had done in spring;
Good grass-land gullied out, and in the grass
Ridges of sand, and driftwood stripped of bark.
I crossed the river and swung round the mountain.
And there I met a man who moved so slow
With white-faced oxen in a heavy cart,
It seemed no hand to stop him altogether.
“What town is this?” I asked.
“This? Lunenburg.”
Then I was wrong: the town of my sojourn,
Beyond the bridge, was not that of the mountain,
But only felt at night its shadowy presence.
“Where is your village? Very far from here?”
“There is no village—only scattered farms.
We were but sixty voters last election.
We can’t in nature grow to many more:
That thing takes all the room!” He moved his goad.
The mountain stood there to be pointed at.
Pasture ran up the side a little way,
And then there was a wall of trees with trunks:
After that only tops of trees, and cliffs
Imperfectly concealed among the leaves.
A dry ravine emerged from under boughs
Into the pasture.
“That looks like a path.
Is that the way to reach the top from here?—
Not for this morning, but some other time:
I must be getting back to breakfast now.”
“I don’t advise your trying from this side.
There is no proper path, but those that have
Been up, I understand, have climbed from Ladd’s.
That’s five miles back. You can’t mistake the place:
They logged it there last winter some way up.
I’d take you, but I’m bound the other way.”
“You’ve never climbed it?”
“I’ve been on the sides
Deer-hunting and trout-fishing. There’s a brook
That starts up on it somewhere—I’ve heard say
Right on the top, tip-top—a curious thing.
But what would interest you about the brook,
It’s always cold in summer, warm in winter.
One of the great sights going is to see
It steam in winter like an ox’s breath,
Until the bushes all along its banks
Are inch-deep with the frosty spines and bristles—
You know the kind. Then let the sun shine on it!”
“There ought to be a view around the world
From such a mountain—if it isn’t wooded
Clear to the top.” I saw through leafy screens
Great granite terraces in sun and shadow,
Shelves one could rest a knee on getting up—
With depths behind him sheer a hundred feet;
Or turn and sit on and look out and down,
With little ferns in crevices at his elbow.
“As to that I can’t say. But there’s the spring,
Right on the summit, almost like a fountain.
That ought to be worth seeing.”
“If it’s there.
You never saw it?”
“I guess there’s no doubt
About its being there. I never saw it.
It may not be right on the very top:
It wouldn’t have to be a long way down
To have some head of water from above,
And a good distance down might not be noticed
By anyone who’d come a long way up.
One time I asked a fellow climbing it
To look and tell me later how it was.”
“What did he say?”
“He said there was a lake
Somewhere in Ireland on a mountain top.”
“But a lake’s different. What about the spring?”
“He never got up high enough to see.
That’s why I don’t advise your trying this side.
He tried this side. I’ve always meant to go
And look myself, but you know how it is:
It doesn’t seem so much to climb a mountain
You’ve worked around the foot of all your life.
What would I do? Go in my overalls,
With a big stick, the same as when the cows
Haven’t come down to the bars at milking time?
Or with a shotgun for a stray black bear?
‘Twouldn’t seem real to climb for climbing it.”
“I shouldn’t climb it if I didn’t want to—
Not for the sake of climbing. What’s its name?”
“We call it Hor: I don’t know if that’s right.”
“Can one walk around it? Would it be too far?”
“You can drive round and keep in Lunenburg,
But it’s as much as ever you can do,
The boundary lines keep in so close to it.
Hor is the township, and the township’s Hor—
And a few houses sprinkled round the foot,
Like boulders broken off the upper cliff,
Rolled out a little farther than the rest.”
“Warm in December, cold in June, you say?”
“I don’t suppose the water’s changed at all.
You and I know enough to know it’s warm
Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm.
But all the fun’s in how you say a thing.”
“You’ve lived here all your life?”
“Ever since Hor
Was no bigger than a—” What, I did not hear.
He drew the oxen toward him with light touches
Of his slim goad on nose and offside flank,
Gave them their marching orders and was moving.


About the Poem

Since I had the chance to visit Lake Willoughby this past weekend, I thought it would be fitting to look at one of Robert Frost’s lesser-known but evocative poems, "The Mountain." The poem mentions Mount Hor — one of the two dramatic mountains that rise on either side of Lake Willoughby in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. Having seen the lake and the mountains in person now, I feel even more connected to the scene Frost describes.

Frost’s speaker begins by describing the imposing presence of the mountain over the town, how it casts a shadow and seems to shelter him. There’s awe in the way the mountain “holds” the town — almost like a guardian — yet it also looms, cutting out stars from view. When the speaker climbs the mountain in search of its supposed secret, he discovers that the mountain doesn’t really do anything except stand there. There is no magical spring at its summit, no hidden source of the river — water comes from elsewhere.

This poem has always struck me as a quiet meditation on human expectations versus reality. We often assume that something as grand as a mountain must contain secrets or power. But the truth is simpler — the mountain’s presence itself is its gift. It doesn’t need to justify its existence with hidden springs or mystical origins.

Standing along the shores of Lake Willoughby, looking up at Mount Hor and its neighbor Mount Pisgah rising sharply from the water’s edge, I thought of Frost’s insight: sometimes, beauty and meaning are not about what a place gives us, but about what it is.

Have you ever visited a place that made you feel that way — where its presence alone was enough?


About the Poet

Robert Frost (1874–1963) was one of America’s most celebrated poets, renowned for his depictions of rural life, his mastery of conversational language, and his profound observations on nature and human experience. Though he was born in California, Frost’s literary identity is deeply tied to New England, where he lived for much of his life.

Vermont, in particular, features prominently in his work. He lived for many years in Shaftsbury, Vermont, and his poetry captures the landscapes, seasons, and rhythms of New England life — its mountains, woods, fields, and quiet towns. Poems like The Mountain reflect his sensitivity to the Vermont landscape and his ability to see both its grandeur and its simplicity.

Pic of the Day

Another Rough Weekend

My back pain got considerably worse over the weekend, and by last night it was unbearable enough that I ended up in the ER. They gave me some stronger painkillers and sent me home, but nothing has really helped so far. I tossed and turned all night, trying to find a comfortable position — there wasn’t one.

I’m hoping to get in to see my doctor today and figure out what comes next. Fingers crossed for some relief soon.

Pic of the Day

Complete in Christ

“See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority.”

— Colossians 2:8–10

 

On this quiet Sunday, we hear Paul’s words to the church at Colossae, offering both a warning and a promise: we must not be led astray by false philosophies, but we can rest in the assurance that in Christ we are already made full.

 

It can feel intimidating when Paul warns against “philosophy and empty deceit,” but his concern is not about learning, thinking, or asking questions. He is warning us not to be convinced that we need anything more than Christ to be whole — not to be enslaved by systems that promise fullness but deliver only shame and fear.

 

For us as LGBTQ+ Christians, this is a deeply comforting and challenging truth. The world — and sadly, much of the church — has often told us we are incomplete, broken, disordered. They’ve claimed we need to be “fixed” or “delivered” from who we are. Those are indeed empty deceits. Paul’s words remind us not to be taken captive by those human traditions that deny the fullness God already gives us.

 

Because we have come to fullness in him.

 

We don’t need to contort ourselves to fit the world’s narrow definitions of holiness. Christ himself — the one in whom “the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily” — has made us complete. Our queerness does not separate us from that fullness, and no authority on earth has the right to tell us otherwise.

 

So, let us stay watchful: testing the messages we hear to see whether they align with the love, grace, and truth of Christ. And let us stay secure: knowing that we are already whole in him, without shame, without needing to erase who we are.

 

We are not lacking. We are not less-than. We are already full — because Christ is full, and we are in him.

 

On this Sunday, may we feel that fullness in our hearts. May we resist the voices that would try to take us captive through deceit. And may we rest in the truth that Christ himself makes us complete — wonderfully and perfectly made in his love.

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: Lakes

🎶Don't go chasing waterfalls 

Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to 

I know that you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all 

But I think you're moving too fast🎶

—“Waterfalls” TLC

The lyrics above are from the song “Waterfalls” by TLC. They speak not only to the swift, dramatic plunge of water over a falls, but also to the way people often let life rush past them—always chasing the next thrill or achievement—until suddenly, it’s over. Good advice often goes unheeded when someone is determined to forge their own path, even recklessly.

While the singer warns of the chaos that can come from moving too fast, she also urges thoughtfulness and peace. The chorus reminds us to live each moment fully and intentionally, making the best of the time we have.

This perspective echoes the wisdom of Marcus Aurelius in Meditations: “Dwell on the beauty of life,” and “Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power, be good.”

Take a breath. Find your river or lake—and appreciate its quiet beauty.

Pic of the Day

Finally Friday

Thank goodness, it is finally Friday. This week has felt unusually long—one of those where Friday seemed like it would never arrive—but here it is at last. I’ll be working from home today, which also means I’ll likely sneak in a few loads of laundry between emails and projects. That’s life.

At least it’s supposed to be a beautiful day. Tomorrow promises more sunshine and even better weather, and I’m planning to take full advantage of it. I’ve decided to go hiking around Lake Willoughby, a glacial lake in northern Vermont known for its incredible clarity, chilly waters, and breathtaking scenery. From the pictures I’ve seen, it’s no wonder it’s considered one of the most beautiful lakes in New England.

Looking north from above south shore of Lake Willoughby, with Mount Hor on the left and Mount Pisgah on the right.

I’m looking forward to a day spent in nature—hiking, relaxing, and hopefully finding a quiet spot on the shore to sit in the sun and read. Whether I make a full day of it or just a few hours, I’ll have plenty of water with me, and of course, I won’t forget the sunscreen.

But first, there’s this work-from-home Friday to get through. Hopefully, it will be easy enough, and then I can start the weekend properly.

How are you planning to spend your weekend? Do you have a favorite spot in nature to relax and recharge?

Here’s your Isabella pic of the week, proving once again that she’s the queen of cozy. Half-covered by a blanket and looking absolutely adorable, she’s clearly mastered the fine art of Friday relaxation.

Pic of the Day

The Art of the Gay Film: Where Does Porn End and Cinema Begin?

Red, White, and Royal Blue

One of the oldest and most provocative questions in art history is what counts as art? That question becomes even more layered when we look at gay-themed films. Are they art? Are they pornography? Or something else entirely?

Last week, in my post “Can Gay Porn Be Considered Art?”, I explored how even pornography can rise to the level of art when it’s created with intention, craft, and meaning. This week, I want to turn to films—particularly gay-themed ones—and ask: where do they fit on the spectrum between art and pornography?

Let’s start at the beginning: Are films art?

The answer from an art historical perspective is a resounding yes. Cinema, from its very birth, was hailed by some as the most modern and democratic art form—capable of bringing storytelling, image, sound, and emotion into a single, immersive experience.

But when sex enters the frame, things get complicated—particularly for films with queer themes. 

Red, White, and Royal Blue

Consider Red, White & Royal Blue, which generated considerable buzz in the gay community for its romantic and tender love scenes. The two leads engage in intercourse—though we see no frontal nudity or penetration, and most of the actual sexual act is in the facial expressions of the two main characters. The narrative focuses on their emotional and political stakes as much as their physical passion. 

Shortbus

But compare that to Shortbus, the groundbreaking 2006 independent film featuring gay and straight characters exploring sexuality, intimacy, and loneliness. It famously includes unsimulated sex scenes—autofellatio, rimming, ejaculation, and more—woven into a story about connection in New York City. Despite its graphic imagery, many critics and audiences hailed Shortbus as an art film because the sexual content was in service to its humanistic and narrative vision. 

Minx

Then on the other end of the spectrum are campy, sex-forward comedies like the Eating Out series or Another Gay Movie, which parody and revel in gay hookup culture with winks, nudity, and humor. These films are explicitly about sex, but in a light, comic, self-aware way—not quite pornography, but certainly not subtle. In the same vein, we might put certain HBO shows (The White Lotus, Euphoria) or Minx (on HBO/Starz), which features an extraordinary amount of male frontal nudity but uses it to explore the 1970s porn industry with a feminist and comedic slant.

So, where do we draw the line between art and pornography?

It’s not always clear—and, as you pointed out, it may well be “in the eye of the beholder.” In general: 

• Pornography tends to have a singular, utilitarian purpose: sexual arousal and entertainment. It doesn’t usually ask its audience to reflect, empathize, or wrestle with deeper meaning. However, even pornography can be considered art, as I wrote about in last week’s post, “Can Gay Porn Be Considered Art?”—and I think it can be. When crafted thoughtfully, with aesthetic intention and emotional resonance, even porn can rise to the level of art. 
• Art, even when explicit, usually serves a broader purpose—telling a story, exploring vulnerability, interrogating social norms, or celebrating intimacy. 

That doesn’t mean art can’t also be arousing—just as Mapplethorpe’s photographs or Greek kouroi might still thrill us centuries later. The difference lies in intent and context.

Many of these films (and TV series) deliberately blur the line. Shortbus was attacked by some as pornography precisely because it showed real sex acts, but defended as art because it was about loneliness, connection, and what it means to be human. Meanwhile, Red, White & Royal Blue was criticized by some for being too tame, choosing romantic convention over sexual candor—but it, too, is art, in the sense that it tells a story about love and identity.

Another Gay Movie

Even campy comedies like Another Gay Movie or series like The White Lotus are part of this conversation—using nudity and sexual humor partly to titillate, yes, but also to satirize and expose cultural hypocrisy.

Personally, I tend to agree that much of what we call pornography is shallow and transactional, whereas even the most sexually explicit arthouse films still aspire to say something about the human experience. Then again, as I’ve also noted, some modern “art” (abstract or otherwise) can feel just as empty or pretentious to some of us as porn can.

We as gay viewers—long denied honest representations of ourselves—have often sought out films that blurred the line between art and eroticism, because sometimes that’s where we feel most seen. Cinema remains, perhaps, the most widely consumed art form in the gay community—precisely because it can contain beauty, sex, tenderness, and critique all at once.


What do you think? Have you seen a film (Shortbus? Minx? Another Gay Movie?) that you felt crossed a line—or one that made you feel understood? Does the presence of graphic sex diminish a movie’s artistic value for you—or enhance its honesty?

Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments.