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.

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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. 

Pic of the Day

Is It Really Only Wednesday?

It’s Wednesday, but it doesn’t feel like a Wednesday. Honestly, it feels like it should be later in the week — Thursday at least, maybe even Friday if the universe were kind. All day yesterday, I kept thinking it was already Wednesday. Each time I realized it was still Tuesday, I felt just a little pang of disappointment. And now that it actually is Wednesday, I have a feeling I’ll keep thinking it’s Thursday and end up disappointed all over again.

This week has been dragging, and I can’t quite figure out why. Monday actually flew by because I was deep into a project, and while Tuesday didn’t exactly speed along, it wasn’t bad either — I kept myself busy with several tasks and even made some progress here and there. But now, here we are at the midpoint of the week, and time seems to have slowed to a crawl.

Today promises to be quiet — my boss isn’t in the office, and my other coworker works in a different part of the museum, so I should be left to my own devices. Which is fine by me. If people would just reply to my emails with something more substantial than “I’ll get back to you,” I might even have more to do. As it is, I’m half tempted to start working on my art history post for this week and see where that takes me.

One thing I am looking forward to today is getting back to the gym. I haven’t been able to go for a while because of my back issues, but I’m feeling much better, and I’m actually eager to go back. I miss it — the routine, the focus, even the little aches that remind me I’ve done something good for myself. It will feel good to move again and hopefully pick up where I left off.

There’s a certain appeal to a quiet Wednesday, though. The museum is peaceful when it’s like this — the soft hum of the HVAC, the occasional creak of a door somewhere, the construction of the building across the street, or the shuffle of visitors’ feet in the galleries (if we have any visitors). I can almost imagine I’m in my own little world here, tucked away among the artifacts and exhibits.

Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could just crawl back into bed and wake up on Friday morning, when I’ll be working from home and closer to the weekend. But, as always, I’ll muddle through today and tomorrow and make the best of it.

If your week has been dragging too, I hope you can find a little bit of calm in the quiet moments — or maybe even a little spark, like a good workout or a kind email, to get you through the rest of the week.

How’s your week going? Does it feel like it’s crawling or flying by for you? What little things help you push through the long days?

Pic of the Day

[It was summer when I found you]

[It was summer when I found you]
By Sappho

It was summer when I found you
In the meadow long ago,
And the golden vetch was growing
By the shore.

Did we falter when love took us
With a gust of great desire?
Does the barely bid the wind wait
In his course?


About the Poem

Sappho’s poem [It was summer when I found you] is a delicate fragment of longing, desire, and memory. Though much of her poetry has been lost to time, the pieces that remain still shimmer with emotional clarity and sensuality — and this little lyric is no exception.

The poem opens in the languor of summer, with the speaker discovering her beloved in a meadow by the shore. Nature itself seems alive with desire: the “golden vetch” blooming wildly and the sea just beyond. Sappho often entwines the natural world with human passion — here, love is as irresistible and inevitable as the gust of wind that bends the barley.

The second stanza asks a rhetorical question: Did we falter when love took us? The answer is implied — how could they? Just as barley cannot resist the wind, the lovers could not resist their “gust of great desire.” There’s a quiet defiance and acceptance in this image: love comes, fierce and unbidden, and the only possible response is to bend with it, to be swept up.

What makes this fragment so moving is how it acknowledges both the beauty and the powerlessness of love. It’s not simply a tender memory, but also a reflection on the force of desire that overtakes reason, propriety, and even hesitation. Sappho’s verses, like this summer meadow fragment, remind us that love and desire are as old and natural as wind through barley or waves on the shore — irresistible, ephemeral, and profoundly human.


Sappho and the Isle of Lesbos

Sappho was a lyric poet who lived on the Greek island of Lesbos around 600 BCE. Little is known about her life in detail, but her reputation as one of the greatest poets of antiquity endured even as most of her work was lost. She ran a kind of school or circle for young women, where they learned poetry, music, and perhaps prepared for marriage.

Her surviving poetry — preserved only in fragments — often speaks of intense affection, admiration, and desire for women. This has led her to be celebrated as an early voice of female same-sex love and to become a symbol of lesbian identity in modern times.

Lesbos itself, situated in the northeastern Aegean, was a center of culture, art, and education in the Archaic Greek world. Because of Sappho’s association with the island and her poetry about love between women, the term lesbian came to refer to women who love women. Similarly, the word sapphic — derived from her name — describes romantic or erotic relationships between women.


Why We Call Gay Women “Lesbians”

Centuries after her death, during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when sexology and psychology were developing modern categories for sexuality, the name of her home — Lesbos — became shorthand for women who love women. The term lesbian originally referred simply to something from Lesbos, but gradually it became associated with female homosexuality, particularly in English by the early 20th century.

In this way, Sappho’s poetry and her island home gave language and dignity to generations of women who loved other women, helping to articulate their desires in a world that often tried to silence them.


Lesbos and the Olisbos

In ancient Greek comedy and satire, the island of Lesbos — and especially its city of Mitylene — was sometimes joked about as a place where women crafted and used olisboi, leather phallic implements we would now call dildos. These bawdy associations appear in vase paintings, lexicons, and plays, reflecting both curiosity and discomfort with women’s same-sex desire. While likely exaggerated, such references add another layer to the island’s long-standing connection to female sexuality.

Pic of the Day

Easing Into Monday

I woke up this morning with my back feeling better. Once I got up and started moving around, it did hurt a little — but it’s definitely an improvement over the last few days. No migraine today either, even though it’s supposed to rain this evening. That feels like an accomplishment in itself.

I didn’t sleep particularly well last night, but somehow I still woke up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. I think a good, restful weekend helped. I really took some time to relax, which seems to have made a difference.

There’s never a lot to do at work this time of year. I’ll start making inquiries into speakers for the fall, work on refining some classes, and begin a project on branding for the museum with our communications office at the university. It’s a good time to ease into the week without feeling overwhelmed, and I’m feeling positive about what lies ahead.

I hope it’s a good Monday — for me, and for you too. Let’s make the best of it.

How are you starting your week? Do you have anything you’re looking forward to or working on?

And to my French readers, I wish you a joyful and meaningful Bastille Day — Bonne Fête Nationale!

Pic of the Day

Cody Messner and Nana

Love That Surpasses Knowledge

“…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

—Ephesians 3:17–19

We talk about love so often in the church that it sometimes risks becoming a hollow word—one that gets tossed around without really being felt. It’s a word recited in creeds and sermons yet rarely allowed to transform our lives. But Ephesians 3:17–19 invites us to pause and consider just how immense divine love truly is. It’s not a fleeting feeling or a conditional offering. It is described as surpassing knowledge, a love that breaks through the barriers of intellect and explanation, reaching into the core of our being.

For LGBTQ+ people, love can often be a complicated word. We’ve been told we love the wrong people. We’ve been excluded from pulpits, pews, and families in the name of “love.” But that kind of love—the one that draws lines and builds walls—is not the love Paul speaks of in Ephesians. That love is not of Christ. Divine love, agape, is the exact opposite. It does not diminish us; it anchors us.

The ancient Greeks understood love in more nuanced ways than a single word could express. Scripture echoes this richness:

1. Eros is passionate love, romantic and physical. It’s the love that often gets sidelined or condemned for queer people, even though it reflects our sacred longing to be fully known and desired. 

Though the Bible rarely uses the term eros directly, it acknowledges the power of desire and affection. In Song of Songs 8:6–7, love is portrayed as an irresistible force:

“Set me as a seal upon your heart… For love is strong as death… Many waters cannot quench love.”

Queer love, romantic and erotic, is often erased in religious contexts, but these verses celebrate longing and passion as part of the human and sacred experience.

2. Philia is the love of friendship, a deep bond between equals. LGBTQ+ communities have often found strength and healing in this kind of love—chosen families, safe friendships, and solidarity in struggle.

Jesus himself demonstrates philia when he speaks of the bond between friends in John 15:13:

“No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

For many LGBTQ+ folks, chosen family and close friendships have provided sanctuary when biological families could not. This kind of love—reciprocal, loyal, and selfless—is no less holy.

3. Storge refers to familial love, the kind that comes naturally between parents and children or siblings. Sadly, many of us have experienced the absence of this love—but we have also seen how it can be rebuilt in the spiritual family of affirming communities.

Romans 12:10 uses the word philostorgos, a compound of philia and storge, when Paul encourages the church:

“Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.”

This type of affection binds us together in communities of care—where bonds may not be based on blood, but on spiritual kinship and mutual support.

4. And then there is Agape—the love Paul points us to here. This is the divine, unconditional love of God. Agape doesn’t depend on who you are, what you’ve done, or who you love. It is love for love’s sake. It is God’s love, lavished upon you simply because you exist.

Agape is the word most often used in the New Testament when describing God’s love—and the love we are called to imitate. It is both the love we receive and the love we give. 1 John 4:7–8 puts it beautifully:

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God… for God is love.”

This is not a passive love. It is radical, universal, and moral. Agape calls us to love not just those who are easy to love, but also the stranger, the marginalized, even our enemies. As Jesus says in Luke 6:27:

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”

Agape is what roots us and grounds us, as Ephesians says. It is the soil from which we grow. And unlike the narrow definitions of love we may have heard preached in judgment, agape is radical in its inclusivity. It embraces the outcast. It honors the queer body. It affirms trans identities. It does not ask us to be straight, celibate, or ashamed. It simply says: You are beloved. You are mine.

For queer people of faith, agape is both comfort and commission. It tells us we are already loved beyond measure—and it calls us to embody that same love in the world. It’s not always easy. But when we live from this love, we become living testimonies of God’s grace, justice, and welcome.

God’s love is an expansive and boundless love. God loves us beyond condition and with a love that knows no boundaries. God is closest to us in our time of need and when others pushed us away because of the lies of conditional love. He planted agape deep in our soul. Jesus taught us to rest in the agape that sees us, embraces us, and calls us whole. His love overflow in us, so that we may become a reflection of His divine welcome to others. He teaches us to love as He loves—without fear, without limits, without shame. As 1 John 4:8 says, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: 15 Years

On July 12, 2010, I sat down and wrote my very first post here at The Closet Professor. It was called The Ancient Olympics: A History Lesson, and at the time I had no idea where this blog would lead me. I simply felt the need to write — to carve out a small corner of the internet where I could share my thoughts, my passions, my struggles, and perhaps connect with a few kindred spirits along the way.

Fifteen years later, that single post has grown into thousands. Between the original Blogger site and the backup WordPress site, The Closet Professor has been viewed more than 8.5 million times. In that time, I’ve posted nearly every day — missing only on those rare occasions when tragedy struck and I simply couldn’t bring myself to write anything. Through it all, you — my readers — have been here with me, and it’s your presence that has made this journey possible.

Through this blog, I’ve shared my love of history, art, music, gay culture, and the quiet moments of spirituality in my Sunday devotionals. I’ve written candidly about my health, my desires, my triumphs, and my defeats. I’ve shared the differences between life in Alabama and life in Vermont, and I’ve tried to be as honest as I could — about who I am and what I hope to become.

Over the years, some posts have struck a special chord. The most popular Moment of Zen of all time was Brazilian Men, posted on February 26, 2022 — a celebration of warmth, joy, and unabashed beauty. The second most popular Moment of Zen was Wet Dreams from June 27, 2015, evoking the sensual allure of water and desire. The most visited Pic of the Day appeared on February 28, 2022 — a beautifully candid image of a nude Black man standing before an open refrigerator, his body bathed in soft, domestic light, a moment both intimate and arresting that continues to resonate with many of you.

Among all the posts I’ve written, the most visited of all time remains Naked Male Camaraderie, published on August 24, 2010, and viewed over 300,000 times — still the post that brings more visitors than any other. The next most popular posts over the years have been Pensacola Beach’s Gay Memorial Day Celebration, The Hanky Code, Gays and the Old West, and Naked Warriors in History. Together, these posts reflect what this blog has always tried to capture — a mixture of beauty, history, desire, and connection.

To mark this milestone, I’ve chosen ten images to celebrate the journey we’ve shared here:

• three from Brazilian Men, honoring the most beloved Moment of Zen;
• one from Wet Dreams, the memorable runner-up;
• another from the most popular Pic of the Day;
• and five more, each representing one of the five most visited posts.

These images reflect not just what has attracted the most attention over the years, but what this blog has always been about: beauty, desire, history, and camaraderie.

From Brazilian Men, Igor Miller

From Brazilian Men, Renan Stolemberger

From Brazilian Men Lucas Gil

From "Wet Dreams"

Most popular Pic of the Day

From Naked Male Camaraderie

From Pensacola Beach’s Gay Memorial Day Celebration

From The Hanky Code

Gays and the Old West

Naked Warriors in History

As I reflect on these fifteen years, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for what this blog has brought into my life. Through it, I’ve grown as a gay man, learned more about myself, and come to embrace parts of me I once tried to hide. I’ve made dear friends — some who have stayed with me all these years, some who have changed my life, some who have moved on, and some who have sadly passed away. And new friends continue to arrive, reminding me that this space still matters.

I’ve learned from you, my readers, as much as I’ve shared with you. You’ve shown me grace, humor, kindness, and wisdom. This blog has been a lifeline in difficult times and a place of joy in better ones. It is a record of my journey — spiritual, intellectual, emotional — and a testament to the connections we can make when we dare to be honest.

I cherish each and every one of you who has walked part of this path with me. Thank you for being here — for reading, for commenting, for simply stopping by and sharing a quiet moment with me. Here’s to fifteen years of The Closet Professor, and to many more to come.

Do you remember what first brought you here? I’d love to hear in the comments below.

Pic of the Day

Can Gay Porn Be Considered Art?

For as long as the male nude has existed in art — from the Kouros statues of ancient Greece to the sketches of Michelangelo — the erotic potential of the male body has fascinated artists and viewers alike. But what happens when we turn our gaze to the realm of gay pornography? Can gay porn — films and photography explicitly created for sexual arousal — also be considered art?

It’s a provocative question, but a worthwhile one. In fact, the history of gay porn itself often parallels the history of queer art: pushing boundaries, challenging taboos, celebrating bodies, and telling truths about desire.

The Beginnings: Porn as Forbidden Art

Long before moving pictures, erotic images circulated as drawings, engravings, and photographs. In the 19th century, so-called “French postcards” depicted nude men as athletic models, though sometimes posed in implicitly homoerotic ways. One of the earliest and most influential figures to straddle the line between art and pornography was Wilhelm von Gloeden, whose photographs of Sicilian boys, taken between the 1880s and 1920s, combined classical references, soft lighting, and unabashed sensuality. These images were sold as art but carried undeniable erotic charge.

When film arrived, early pornography — called “stag films” — rarely included explicitly gay scenes. Still, there were clandestine reels from the 1920s–40s that showed male-male encounters. Though they were often anonymous and lacked narrative or polish, their very existence documented queer desire at a time when it was otherwise hidden. The Surprise of a Knight (1930), one of the earliest surviving gay stag films, is a fascinating precursor — a clandestine, playful short that captures queer desire in an era of strict censorship, showing how even in the shadows, erotic expression could hint at both art and resistance.

The Surprise of a Knight opens with an elegantly dressed “lady” preparing for a visit, who reveals a patch of pubic hair as an intertitle credits the screenplay to “Oscar Wild.” In the drawing room, the lady flirts and kisses her dapper “knight,” rebuffing his gropes before playfully slapping him and then performing oral sex. She then positions herself face-down on the sofa, and the knight simulates anal sex with her twice, both reaching climax. After he departs, the “lady” lifts her skirts to reveal he is actually a man, punctuated by an intertitle reading “Surprise.” The man dances nude, his penis visible, before the knight returns to help him undress completely; they dance together briefly, and in the final shot the man, now in business attire, winks at the camera before walking off.

The Classic Era: Porn as Provocation, Pleasure as Art

The so-called “Golden Age” of gay porn coincided with the sexual revolution of the late 1960s and 1970s. Explicit films were finally being made openly, screened in theaters, and even reviewed in mainstream publications. During this period, filmmakers experimented with narrative, cinematography, and symbolism — producing works that were undeniably pornographic but also clearly ambitious, aesthetically considered, and culturally significant. Some of these films are now preserved in archives and even screened in museums.

Perhaps the most famous of these was Boys in the Sand (1971), directed by Wakefield Poole, which portrayed erotic encounters on Fire Island in lush, painterly compositions. Poole’s film was groundbreaking for its beautiful cinematography and narrative flow — and it even premiered to a packed theater audience, signaling a new cultural visibility.

Around the same time, Fred Halsted’s LA Plays Itself (1972) took a radically different approach, presenting gay sex through a gritty, surrealist lens that reflected the urban experience of Los Angeles. In October 2023, New York’s IFC Center hosted a rare screening of Fred Halsted’s LA Plays Itself, shown on Friday, October 20 and Saturday, October 21. The IFC Center, a renowned independent art-house cinema in New York City, screening LA Plays Itself is significant because it affirms the film’s enduring status not just as underground pornography but as a provocative work of avant-garde queer art worthy of serious cultural recognition. This gritty, surreal classic of queer cinema was presented as part of a retrospective celebrating the film’s radical blend of explicit gay sexuality, avant-garde experimentation, and social critique — reminding audiences why it remains both controversial and artistically significant more than fifty years later.

 

From: Fred Halsted’s LA Plays Itself (1972)

Other notable films of this era, such as Sex Garage and Drive!, blended explicit sex with experimental art-film techniques, offering a kind of avant-garde pornography. And beyond film, the hypermasculine, leather-clad drawings of Tom of Finland profoundly influenced the aesthetic of this era — his work infused pornographic imagery with style and self-confidence. These films treated sex not just as a physical act but also as an expression of fantasy, identity, and even politics — often blending sensuality with beauty and humor.

The Condom Era: Risk, Responsibility, and Reinvention

With the arrival of HIV/AIDS in the early 1980s, the landscape of gay porn changed dramatically. Fear and loss reshaped queer sexuality, and the industry adopted condoms both as a visual norm and as an ethical statement. Yet filmmakers continued to create works that were erotic, imaginative, and even moving. While the films of this era often retained the narrative ambition of the classic period, the urgent subtext of survival and safer sex advocacy gave them new weight. Many films explicitly incorporated education or chose to eroticize condoms themselves, making them part of the fantasy rather than an intrusion on it.

One example is More of a Man (1986), which managed to portray explicit gay sex as affirming and healthy during a time of crisis. Later films such as Oversized Load (1992) and Flashpoint (1994) demonstrated that high production values and eroticism could coexist with a commitment to showing safer sex. Directors like Chi Chi LaRue injected humor, camp, and even tenderness into their films while insisting on condoms, making the condom itself part of the fantasy rather than an obstacle. These works helped sustain gay erotic culture during a devastating epidemic, offering viewers both pleasure and reassurance. These films demonstrated how erotic art could adapt to a changed world, preserving desire while honoring safety and responsibility.

The Post-Condom Era: Emotional Realism and Erotic Storytelling

With the introduction of PrEP (pre-exposure prophylaxis) and better treatments for HIV, the last decade has seen a return to condomless (or “bareback”) porn. Some see this as a fetishization of risk; others view it as reflecting new realities where undetectable equals untransmittable (U=U) and consent is better understood. The artistry of the current era often lies in its diversity: high-definition cinematography, thoughtful storytelling, and a new openness about race, body types, and kink.

 

Studios like CockyBoys have embraced the idea of “art house porn” — their Answered Prayers series (2014–15) was highly conceptual, blending dreamlike imagery, emotional narratives, and striking cinematography with explicit sex. Meanwhile, queer filmmaker Bruce LaBruce has consistently created films that integrate hardcore gay sex into narrative art cinema, screened at film festivals and museums.

In addition, Davey Wavey’s Himeros project has taken the idea of porn-as-art even further, explicitly positioning itself at the intersection of eroticism, education, and body positivity. With its emphasis on advocacy and sensual exploration, Himeros aims to create porn that doesn’t just arouse but also affirms, teaching viewers to see their own bodies and desires as beautiful and worthy. And across the independent scene, more and more filmmakers are producing “post-porn” hybrids: installations, videos, and screenings in galleries that use pornographic elements to explore desire, identity, and politics.

What Makes Porn Art?

So, what distinguishes these works from “just porn”?

• Intent: Many of these works aim not just to arouse but to say something — about desire, about queerness, about the human condition.
• Aesthetic Vision: Careful cinematography, editing, sound design, and narrative ambition elevate the material.
• Cultural Context: In eras when mainstream culture erased queer desire, these films asserted its legitimacy and beauty.
• Emotional Resonance: Art moves us — and some of these films succeed in doing so even beyond the erotic charge.

Of course, not all gay porn is art — nor does it have to be. But these examples show that pornography can be artful, meaningful, and even beautiful. Whether you view it on a gallery wall, a festival screen, or your laptop at midnight, it is part of the long story of how queer people have imagined, celebrated, and preserved our desires.

What do you think? Where do you draw the line between porn and art? Or is there even a line at all? Share your thoughts in the comments.