I was given a very interesting view point of my work, from someone who may not want to be associated with this article, but in response to a previous post; it was suggested that because my work has a tendency to reach beyond the realms of the erotic, many may be turned off by it and desire to distance themselves from it.  I felt this to be an understandable notion, considering the on going aggression set against NSFW material.

 This of course could not stand up to the love given to “NUT BUSH,” by Hentai-Foundry.com and Newgrounds.com- that even though they are an organization dedicated to the preservation of the art form, have none-the-less found room for my work that is neither Hentai or merely erotic.

“Nut Bush,” received support from Hentai-Foundry and having gallery space is always a thrill. Despite all of the negative comments, it is so pleasing to know deep down in the hearts of those that produce the site, they want to give way for the tales of the Dream Weaver.

 I did not use Krita for “Nut Bush,” but I wish I had. Instead I used it for “Gagee-Irin Sriklaew.” Krita is a very disturbing digital format. So the best I can expect is just a touch-up system. I don’t know if any will like what I have been able to render from Krita, compared to what I can do by hand, but she was a wild ride and fun at that. Krita wanted to do what she wanted to do the whole time, when I said left, she wanted to go right. When I asked for an air-brush, she would give me a wet paint brush and tell me, 'she did not know what an air-brush was and does not see how such a tool can be used for art."

I had told a friend I wanted her assistance in the development of this art piece and I still do, I am not completely satisfied with what I have developed and would love to know what she can make of a few of my mistakes and how she would fix the project. If it can be fixed.

 I had been asked to draw Gagee. Which was a story devised by Oam Aw-in and directed by Arch Adhya and starred Irin Sriklaew as Gagee. (The wife of the king of Varanasi who was not satisfied by the king sexually and sought out one of his generals for her moment of climatic bliss.)

 I felt it was fitting to draw her and add her story to my collection, after thinking of the motifs of a few of my latest projects. Faithfulness, fidelity and loyalties and all that come with it.

It is interesting, when you read the biography of the film, they tell you the whole story in a short paragraph, there is almost no need to watch the move after reading what it’s about, because I am sure, true to Indian custom, the woman is caught and killed and so is the young general.

Sadness, from beginning to end, all for one, climatic moment.

Speaking of Indian customs, I recently read in the paper an article written by Malin Fezehai of a Yemenite in Israel. The wedding took place as a henna celebration at the Yemeni Heritage Center in Rosh Ha’Ayin, Israel. The bride was 24 years old, Meyral Yehud who loves the henna tradition. I placed my own depiction of henna on the eye of the elephant in “Gagee-Irin Sriklaew,” and recently learned that Indians, Pakistani, African and the Middle East can trace roots back to the use of henna markings and the ‘triangles,’ which are believed to have supernatural powers.

 There was another story that was interesting of a couple who had fallen in love from the confines of a rehabilitation center. Vowing to get married when they found sobriety. Robbie Dexheimer (33) and Alba Hancock (27). I feel they are at a good age to find out in life what is important and word towards it. I was interested in these two because Robbie now works at Grove, a digital-first brand agency in Concord Mass. Where he is associate creative director. His wife runs Mayday Health, a hotline for treatment centers and crazy people. Makes me wonder why creatives and imaginative people are off kilter?    

Victoria Maria Harris Edwards,

A real-life femme fatale I’ve always kept miles of highway, city traffic and mutual acquaintances as low as one person a year.

 She recently has divorced her fourth husband, which means she is single and fair game. This of course does not mean she will ever play the game of Nut Bush fair.

 Nutbush City Limits

Ike & Tina Turner

A church house, gin house
A school house, outhouse
On highway number nineteen
The people keep the city clean
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits

Twenty-five was the speed limit
Motorcycle not allowed in it
You go t'the store on Fridays
You go to church on Sundays
They call it Nutbush, been a long time, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
You go to the fields on week days
And have a picnic on Labor Day
You go to town on Saturday
But go to church every Sunday
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
No whiskey for sale
You get caught, no bail
Salt pork and molasses
Is…

Twenty-five was the speed limit
Motorcycle not allowed in it
You go t'the store on Fridays
You go to church on Sundays
They call it Nutbush, been a long time, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
You go to the fields on week days
And have a picnic on Labor Day
You go to town on Saturday
But go to church every Sunday
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
No whiskey for sale
You get caught, no bail
Salt pork and molasses
Is all you get in jail
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
Yeah they call it Nutbush city
Nutbush city limits

A little old town in Tennessee, it's called
Quiet little old community, a one-horse town
You have to watch what you're puttin' down
In old Nutbush, they call it Nutbush

Some time last year I told you how we met and parted on as good of terms anyone is allowed to separate from her. Due to the fact that I’ve never been inside of her, I’ve never had to face the venom that comes with her scorn. She phoned me from jail a few days ago, insisting I make sure her mother has her daughter and collects the $200.00 need to aid in her release.

 She did not even spend a weekend in jail after being charged with an assault against her husband that has led him to filing papers. She might have retained her marriage if she waited to get home to beat him.

One day I’ll ask her if she had to do it in the nail salon?

I always did want a woman who was willing to stand toe to toe with me, but I don’t think any man should tolerate a woman who beats him in the face, just because he say’s “No,” to her paying for the most expensive manicure they have to offer.

Anyway, I am browsing through my collections of images of her and still I get a hard on thinking about her. I want to tell her and all, but I don’t want to deal with the drama that comes with it. She is the kind of person that if she lets you fuck one time, you are better off marrying her because at least you can hold onto the idea of maintaining control of her volatility and can fuck her to sleep if she gets to throwing a temper tantrum.

 Don’t get caught with another woman and let her find out. The woman will end up in stiches and you’ll come home to a knife, slicing, paper cut thin marks along the edge of your dick while she seduces you with her curvaceous mouth.

You know we where the best of friends when we were young and if I was to write her now, you’d think just a letter or a card that said, “Your missed and loved.” Just a platonic smile and hug~ Just a look of appreciation, things that make out hearts full and want to be around people.

Something on her birthday- to let her know I remember and think of her. I do miss her. A lot of the time. But I know if I write her, she will tell her mother, who would tell her aunt, and cousins, sigh~ and everyone will know that I wrote her and that would be kin to fucking her in the minds of those that know how much she loved me when we young.

Oh, how I loved her.    

I was reading Katie Reilly’s review on education, in regards, to Universities like Harvard and their use of Affirmative Action for the supposed bigotry felt among Chinese applicants. Asian-American’s specifically, according to the Times. Of course they still quote numbers of admission’s   for “non-white,” students to be lower than 30% after Affirmative Action policies have been in place (shy of 15 years) with the development of changes after Grutter v. Bollinger (2003).

 I personally did not go to an Ivy League University, like Harvard for my law studies. I went to North Carolina Central University (NCCU). I only mention this because it is a stone throw away from UNC and Duke Universities that I can assure you have no problem with their ratio of admissions to Asian-American’s or foreign nationals.

 The Times says, “ Race should not be a factor when applying to an University.” In reality it never was. It was always a factor in weeding out who finishes or not. Especially those who are undergraduates and placed their room and board in the hands of the Chair of a University who is at the mercy of those paying to keep the institution viable.

 NCCU was a historically black college, so I never worried about my application being denied. I also loved the fact that I did not have to pay the Ivy League fee to earn the same degree, I needed to achieve my dreams.

 Yet with the influx of foreign nationals and a desire to remain competitive to their Ivy League neighbors, I witnessed an increase of white students, and central Europeans, and Asians, pushing the predominately ‘black,’ American culture out in their final two years, of undergraduate studies and no one saying a word because of Affirmative Action support.

 I could only imagine this influx to have been a trickle-down effect of what was occurring in Harvard, Duke, and UNC.

Affirmative Action tied with DACCA recipients turned our universities into a ground zero explosion of American brand ingenuity at the turn of an economic crisis.

I am African American and had the choice to go to whatever University I desired. I went to an HBCU because I never wanted to be accused of riding the tail end of Affirmative Action just because I was able to enter an Ivy League school. My merit and hard work spoke volumes for me and I made my scholarships take me as far as they would go. Honestly, I never paid into my education, scholarships are a wonderful incentive for those that feel their color or lack of color gives them the right to appeal for better social positioning in the world.

 I am not the most affluent of men. Just as I’ve never lied on the size of my dick, I would never lie about what’s in my pockets or not. It is because I am still standing after the humiliation and detestable position, I found myself in from 2007 until 2016, which in all honesty has not changed for me. Just because I happen to be in a symbiotic relationship with people, I dare not trust the moment there is an inability to buy or sell.

 It is because I am still here, do I find I am able to stiffen my back with pride when someone insists, “In order to make money, you have to spend money.” On their botched investments that leave them in a horrible lurch. Options Investments, Bitcoin investments, The DotCom boom and bust.

 Many have come to me and suggested that “If,” they manage to make it “Big,” on something I’ve spoken against, that I would be upset. I’ve spoken against ACN telemarketers since I was seven years old and found no one made a dime from it.  Whoever invested in it is still looking for a needle in a haystack and the Government is giving “phone-plans,” out to people in need, virtually for free. Not a one time since I was seven, I am 30 now, did I ever feel like I missed out on my mansion promised by my Holy Father in Heaven, because I did not buy into some money laundering scheme that would benefit no one but the person charming enough to have said something I just did not take the time to think about. I’ve spoken against spending thousands on books, I could have written myself. I have spoken against those who would insult my intelligence or my capacity to learn by insisting they are the only way to some sense of earthly success and they can only ‘polly-parrot,’ the phantom of the address to success thought of by someone else who’s name is not GOD.

Took me a long time but I was comforted in the idea that I was no longer ‘spiritualizing’ or living in a fantasy when I could assertively declare that the only road to success is with God and it’s only a mystery, I am only speaking in riddles and parables to those who have not been there, where I’ve been or see where God is taking me.

 As I have grown older it has occurred to me that very few artists or collectors have any real grasp of what their imaginations are really worth.

 Could be the reason why there is a Creative Battle ground in the first place and a resistance from producers or publishers to buy into a product and those I deal with have taken to self-employment. An employment that forces people to trust one another- especially in an era of finance conducted through the internet market have no holding securities.

We are forced to hold ourselves accountable when trading funds for products and ideally this is a wonderful idea, but when applied, the only one to achieve any gain is the one holding the money. Really makes for bad business and riddles the integrity of the ‘start-up’ enterprise and self-employed dreamer. A real pet peeve of the Art industry and I am not really sure when this occurred, but the idea that anyone’s product should be sold beneath ‘state-regulated,’ minimum wage brackets to appease the private donor.

 Now in America, weather you agree or not, the minimum wage has been pushed to $15.00 an hour. This means if an artist produces a piece in 3 hours, he or she should receive $45.00 bare minimum for the product or at least selling it at that price to compete with any other taxable product being regulated by the FTC. In America mind you. Can’t speak for any other country because I’ve not lived, they’re not have I dealt with their dollar for dollar exchange rates. Keeping this in mind it is disrespectful, insulting, and down right oppressive to expect anyone to sell you the rights to their ‘intellectual property,’ for anything less than $7.25 an hour in my personal estimations. Meaning worldwide this sense of selling magazines, art, prose, literature, blogs, of any kind for 2.99-8.00 whole sale is asinine and a waste of any artists time. Professional or the Hobbyists. When I think on average how long it takes to make and entire editorial to entertain  the few fans I have, if I was not relying on the benevolence of the passer byer and worked corporately or for an agency, again I am speculating because I’ve never debased my talent to settle for an FCC regulated occupation, but if I did, I’d contract myself out for a 72hr bid of 108.00 per piece; an exchange in keeping with our countries $15.00 an hour minimum wage requirement.  

 It is because of the potential of such prosperity many migrants seek America as a home and authors like Mellissa Harris are recorded to be worth 77.5 million, or some other horrendous number for selling lies to the American public. All in the name of “freedom of expression.” When we consider this information, why should I or any artist settle for 2.99-8.00 for a single publication?

 In short be it I am conservative or liberal if I charage $15 and hour and base in an 3hr rate of production, my products are selling at $50.00 minimum.             

I really wanted to thank the few of you that have read my journals and supplied understanding responses, opposed to that of the contempt and criticisms I was expecting.

 I was pleasantly surprised with a few endorsers suggested “Loving Estela,” https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/loving-estela can be considered ‘Adult,’ or explicit material.  I felt is was rather wholesome, compared to so many of the other stories I have shared in times past.

 I had shared the story of, ‘Loving Estela,’ because I don’t think it would have been very healthy for me to keep it locked away.

 Though now that I know she is, ‘married,’ and has been for twenty years, I wish I had.

I am really not that kind of person. One who entertains married women.

In times past, if a woman was ‘engaged,’ or ‘dating,’ or simply not committed, I felt she was fair game. Yet I was always mindful of the propensity of her making me a victim of a broken heart. To watch her ‘needing,’ another man and tempting him is rather difficult and to remain civil in the presence of unfaithfulness is even more of a challenge.

 It is because of this awareness, I simply refused to allow myself to get close to anyone.

There was this foolish idea presented to me by a woman in my past, that went something like this:

 “That because women are always engaged with a man in some compacity and I was the ‘man,’ on the side and not a main course meal. I was simply a maintenance man. Women have more to loose out of the relationships developed with me and I was the overall victor, no matter how the relationship turned out.”

 Decades later, I can tell you that is a horrid lie.

Never seeing my son again is a horrible loss.

Watching her marry and commit to another is a loss.

In the war of love and lust, the man who can not retain or maintain the security found in the affections of a woman, after he has been inside of a woman is tortured by the notion that every time he begins to parley with an interesting prospect, the same expectations apply and the field of love has become embittered, by repetition.

 He is forced to become a liar as soon as he engages her. As playful as the banter is, “You say that to all the pretty girls.” The immediate ‘No,’ is a lie.

As I think of Estela I am made to ask, “Who is stronger, the man who flees all semblance of evil and temptation, or the man who can conquer the heart of a faithful woman, who had no intentions of succumbing to his touch had he not persisted?”

 I was so angry at her the day I found out she was married, yet she did not do anything wrong. It is not her fault she is appealing and her friend suggested that I was on her mind.

 Then again her “friend,” is just as interesting. Her ‘friend,’ said she was married, not Estela.

Her, ‘friend,’ is the on that looks at me suggestively, when speaking of Estela.

Sigh, I am really upset with the whole lot of them, because this entire exchange occurred in a grocery store. A family owned business. Meaning each and every employee is Momma, Papa, Cousin, Husband, Son, Daughter, or someone and not approachable, lest I join the family in some sense and that would never be, because Estela is married and she never told me, her instigating, ‘friend,’ did.

I spoke to the woman who told me about Estela. Asking her if she was married, and in the shyest and almost apologetic manner, infact without words or even really looking at me, she says, “Yes.”

 She nodded her head in a slow up and down motion and then said, “She’s been married for twenty years and has four children.”

All I could do was look dejected and say, “ok.”

She then asks me, If I am married.

I wanted to say, “Would I approach another woman, If I was married?”

I did not, I told her, “No.” I told her I have a son, my daughter just died and I’ve been alone for a while. “Where do you work?” she asked.

I told her I am a writer, artist, and a vagabond who works for hire any where and every where he can.

She looked confused and then shocked.

I was amused.

“Are you going to be with your family, this Thanksgiving?” she asks.

“Sure, family is important to me.”

Sigh, what I’ve not been able to figure out is, “Why don’t I have this much customer service in Wal-mart, Foodlion, or WholeFoods?”

 Did you know it took me three hours in Wal-mart to purchase a pair of earrings for a woman I will never be able to give them to?  

  My life has been one in which I have been surrounded by beautiful women who I never touch. To spring up conversation has never been a problem for me, but to engage with people that can clearly careless about what you think or can add to the community is rough. Add on top of that language barriers that only allows for each of you to only express approval of the other by looks and quite confessions made to friends in passing. Secret messages that were not really intended to go further than, "I like seeing them around." Or "I have not seen them in a while, I wonder what they are up to?"

Her English is not the best and because my Spanish is rather poor I am led to believe that there are all sorts of feelings of insecurity that you'd never recognize because their is no language that can be used to convey how each of you feel. When we stand face to face, it really shows forth how different our worlds are and how separated people can be from one another and live in the same town.

I never did take time to meet with Estela after a mutual friend suggested that she has been interested in me for these two years of our acquaintance. It has got me to thinking about my experience with the fairer sex and I have become more and more disturbed by the woman's ability to shift all of her issues, her worries, her doubts, her insecurities, her lack, her self-worth, onto the lap of a man, insisting upon his advice and completely ignoring it, and then accusing him of selfishness when he expresses a need for more prudence and patience. I dare say their is no weakness in the notion and when we are living in a time, when poor judgements can not only hinder us, but can literally cripple us, why would anyone seek to argue against their continued application.

Selfishness, ingratitude, thanklessness.

It was suggested that because I have such a sharp demeanor, no one will want to live with me. This from the same women that when they lack, upon grit and grace I've provided for them selflessly.

Estela's co-worker told me about her, one day when I went shopping. Typically I ignore the whispers of women, except Estela brings sweetness when she is around, most of the time. That is until a few days ago. After I gave her access to my email, websites, and art work. I asked her to tell me what she thought about my blogs and books and I knew her English was poor, but Art speaks a language that translates in all languages normally.

I gave her a few days and returned to the store, which interestingly enough is family owned and is never in the local paper. They advertise for themselves, but if you were not from my town you never would have known about it. I go there for spices and such. Well I will never know what turned her cold. As I entered the store the next few times, her willingness to speak to me waned. Because I am the way I am, I did not ask why, I did not speak at all. 

She was satisfied in acting as if I did not exist.

This is what has always disturbed me about a woman. It was as if, I was to engage conversation and show that I was interested and if I don't then she won't. I don't even know how to spell her name, is it Estela with two 'L's' or one, is she a Lopez or a Beltran, is she, is she, is she. A million questions and I am perfectly fine with leaving them unanswered if it means I must suffer some sense of humiliation from those around her or even her because some things might get lost in translation. 

Wanting more than what the airport bathroom had to offer, Sarah decides to take her new toy home.

After a while of recapturing what was started in the bathroom it began to dawn on Sarah that as willing as the narcissist was to have sex with her public she was rather naïve to some of the more exotic methods of sex. When she asked her, “Can you give me a 69 that will send me to Pluto?” She only looked at her.

 Sarah was sure she was simply playing coy, surely everyone knows what a “69,” is and maybe she just did not have a real grasp of English, so she proposed to say it in Japanese. Still no sign of understanding.

 Sarah was very surprised and pleased to find that there was something she could teach her new friend before her trek to Poland.

Surely as adept as she was and willing to have sex in a public bathroom, she would have already been well indoctrinated in the ways of oral sex.

She has lips as sweet as black berries and a tongue to curl for. How dare she not know that she can use that pleasant mouth for more than declaring in her narcissistic manner, how needed she is in the studio in a few hours.

 Sarah laughs sweetly to herself, she can miss a weeks’ worth of work in Poland for this; The chance to teach the innocent of swallowing and snowballing only comes once in a life time, after that well the cherry is popped and her nose is wide open, she will love it so much, she will begin to expect it, every time they get together.

 There may be a work of art depicting “Cold War Lingerie,” by Henryk Fantazos, sitting and waiting for her to feast her eyes and give a written discourse of her thoughts on the showcase to the Dream Weaver, who sits in his loft tower, contemplating his next socialite pitch, but very little can turn her away from this moment of ecstasy.

To feel the back of her little black bird’s throat is enough to a make her whine and bite her lip. To hear the moans of her partner as she slurps and sucks on her pulsating clit, filled with heat and smut, is music to Sarah’s ears and have made her trip to Japan to view Ilyaev’s  https://www.deviantart.com/ilyaev  exposes worth the effort.        

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/doclew/another-girl-in-yellow

I wonder at times If I have ever shared with others who inspires my desire for art. When I browse galleries and showcases of works from others, what really touches me.

I mean there are a lot of artists out there. Everyone wants their moment in the sun and to be remembered and honored and all that jazz.

Except at the end of the day very few of them can move me like DocLew. I can barely move myself as well as her pen makes me dance. I  am sure she does not use a pen, I am not sure how to say pen in Italian at the moment, but I will learn. I don't think my art will learn to be Italian but it has learned that If I ever get bored with my own works, I can just slide over to her gallery section and bask in the way she makes colors and angels move to her Pide Pippering fingers.

I love your work so much Lady of Pulp and Noir and I hope you continue with all joy in your search of artistic bliss.

You have brought a lot to me and if no one else has said so, I don't mind being open about my support of your work.

I am sure I have said so in the past that, every time you present a piece it is Holy Righteous Fire on a canvas, but I say a lot in  a week.

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/doclew/yellow

I am curious about the hidden meaning behind Yellow. Is that in celebration of the fall season which here in America is turning very fast into winter?

The state or process of turning bestial, depravation, corruption, degradation, dehumanization, is the overall thought of what Henryk Fantazos was trying to convey in his work entitled “Beastalinization”.

I suppose it was to confirm beliefs in support of Destalinization of most of known Europe and east of the Baltics.

Sarah the Switch Hitter is a woman keen on adventures that take her far from home. A home that has shut out her culture of the news and when it does become a feature, they are a group normally pushing and winning a lawsuit.

 I first introduced Sarah sitting in a red chair with a blue backdrop background and a white shadow on the floor with a baseball with a USA logo, all in hopes of getting you to understand her stance as a crossdressing transgender in America.  https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/sarah-the-switch-hitter  I personally enjoyed how she sits, displaying an anatomy that is receiving a lot of negative publicity.

 For instance, Donna Zuckerberg in her new book, “Not All Dead White Men,”  suggests that men who feel society is set up to privilege women often look to classical texts for backup and defense of misogynistic beliefs such as patriarchal rule to be more appreciated than matriarchal ones.

After hearing this I was made to wonder what Sarah would have to say, or those like her. Who live in a grey area and are not confound to the rules presented in classical texts.

 Sarah travels a lot for her career, recently she visited Japan and in the airport she passes the model of a well renowned and adept digital artist,    Ilyaev, who is living in Japan but is not Japanese. The woman in the black dress modeled as a raven haired “narcissist,” to aid the artist is illustrating what it means to be one. She was holding a dead black bird.  https://www.deviantart.com/ilyaev

 One would have thought a narcissist was harder to convince to meet Sarah in the airport bathroom, considering how self-centered they are supposed to be.

In short order she is able to round third base and fill in the home plate.

A friend of Sarah’s saw the woman in black and was sure she could secure an easy $80.00 from the winnings associated with Sarah’s failure in seducing a woman who loves to cry, if it garners the attention of others. She was certain the woman would stab Sarah with that needle she keeps in her hair, for approaching her so bluntly in the airport lobby.

 Nothing of the sort happened.

Sarah has always had a charming disposition. Accompanied with an admirable nature few can resist. Or even want to. It could be imagined that her only real competition in this world is Natalie Mars https://twitter.com/theNatalieMars

 She was very interested in her Japanese conquest, she did not care that she never got her name. Just to feel inside of her was enough to sooth the raging beast that tends to distract our typically sweet, “summer girl.”

Ask Sarah about “Beastalinization,” and she will tell you of the time she nearly missed her flight to Poland, all on account of her little black bird.

My most recent pieces, No Nut November and Sarah the Switch Hitter, I could even add "Stretch," "Neko Love," and "Inktober Day 20-Breakable," to this list of motivated and enlighting discussion.

Each piece was built from the theme presented in the song from MUSE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ek0SgwWmF9w

Whenever I listen to that song and watch the video I am reminded of how ever contreversial conversation, the ideas of interracial relations, bondage, and the Futanari are all moments in which LOVE is the ultimate goal.

He asks the question, "Is this love or is this just maddness trying to take control?"

There are a lot more occurances in life with this question becomes relevant but I am sure those that look at my collections are made to confront this same thought.

Part of me wonders what decision have you come up with, and if it is love, I hope you all get a chance to dance with me and learn not to be so head strong.

  Well I nearly had a heart attack today.
I have been nearly a month into my work and presentations and I receive the worst possible correspondence from those that believe they have a say in what is contextually appropriate and not appropriate for self-publication.

It all began with my desire to give #Futari a place in the line up of ink compositions  under the premise, that because it has not been done before it should bring an audience. Yeah right, normally when something has not been done before, it is because their is a hidden majority that waits in the shadows to suggest, a person is breaking their invisible rules.
 I have been made to mar my present collection of showcases to appease this silent majority of viewers and still it is considered too explicit for support from the franchise.
 Once it was suggested that I draw bad on purpose and the patron wanted to know why. The truth, because when I draw well, when I give my heart into an idea, I must be careful as to who reads it and who has access to it.

 One slip of judgement leaves me to have to explain my decision making abilities and why I deem my works not to be "pornographic," or any more "pornographic," than the next creator of erotic and adult content. When I consider the fact that I did label the product as mature, intended for a mature audience, and I am expecting to pull a crowd of interested buyers into my own personal thoughts of the erotic and adult arena, opposed to what they are already accustomed to, I become somewhat livid at the limitations placed on an artists product.
 Short of completely erasing the image and leaving a phantom of a thought upon the canvas, there is nothing left.

That is the intention is it not? To completely erase from the spectrum an ideal of a world that exists outside of what you are comfortable with seeing. If so, shame on you.
Shame on you or suggesting that you are here to give access for artists to showcase their work, ask them for money to do so, and then ask them to completely deface their products if it happens to rub you the wrong way. I suppose what really bothers me, is the idea that I am not in a position to argue. Though I may have cause, I do not have enough of a support system to back my claim that some ideas of smut, pornography, and the eradication of erotic art is discriminatory, abusive, and slanted.
There are too many that would suggest, because I showed a woman's ass, it is pornographic. Put some clothes on her and it would be better. Really. That is where we are. Victorian Era expectations of art. Well then, looks like I am going to have dig real deep and find some more Noir, to showcase. I am going to rid you of your desire to deny the artist of any caliber a place of serenity, due to your closeted and selfish views of what is appropriate.