This pertains more to nude photography than art in general. I have my thoughts on general art, but I'll save those for another blog.
A Poem on Art
Fake porcelain skin and a vacant stare find my gaze.
Enticing curves, evoking emotion, supposedly.
A well-trained eye, and lines taught my attention to raise.
The naughty bits given an intrinsic meaning, given focus, uncovered.
The beautiful things, meant to accent, now amaze.
Lust becomes confused with emotion, but they are not the same.
Love,
Colton
P.S. For some reason, my typing sucks today.
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