“—Now let us try for a moment to realise, as far as we can, the nature of that abode of the damned which the justice of an offended God has called into existence for the eternal punishment of sinners. Hell is a strait and dark and foulsmelling prison, an abode of demons and lost souls, filled with fire and smoke. The straitness of this prison house is expressly designed by God to punish those who refused to be bound by His laws. In earthly prisons the poor captive has at least some liberty of movement, were it only within the four walls of his cell or in the gloomy yard of his prison. Not so in hell. There, by reason of the great number of the damned, the prisoners are heaped together in their awful prison, the walls of which are said to be four thousand miles thick: and the damned are so utterly bound and helpless that, as a blessed saint, saint Anselm, writes in his book on similitudes, they are not even able to remove from the eye a worm that gnaws it.
—They lie in exterior darkness. For, remember, the fire of hell gives forth no light. As, at the command of God, the fire of the Babylonian furnace lost its heat but not its light so, at the command of God, the fire of hell, while retaining the intensity of its heat, burns eternally in darkness. It is a neverending storm of darkness, dark flames and dark smoke of burning brimstone, amid which the bodies are heaped one upon another without even a glimpse of air. Of all the plagues with which the land of the Pharaohs were smitten one plague alone, that of darkness, was called horrible. What name, then, shall we give to the darkness of hell which is to last not for three days alone but for all eternity?
—The horror of this strait and dark prison is increased by its awful stench. All the filth of the world, all the offal and scum of the world, we are told, shall run there as to a vast reeking sewer when the terrible conflagration of the last day has purged the world. The brimstone, too, which burns there in such prodigious quantity fills all hell with its intolerable stench; and the bodies of the damned themselves exhale such a pestilential odour that, as saint Bonaventure says, one of them alone would suffice to infect the whole world.” [Excerpt from A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce.]
peter robinson fine art 
Sex is taboo. So is climate change in some circles, or bigotry or exploitation, but that don’t make them unreal.
What you are doing in your series of posts (excuse me stating the bleeding obvious) is art. Art provokes a reaction or else it’s not art, it’s decor. Art pretty much has to include sex somewhere, but it’s not always so obvious, as you eloquently describe. For all I know, you don’t intend these latest posts as art, just translations of a stimulating image. But that act of translation made it art. I follow your blog and I take your art seriously.
This was my response. When I look at your image of Hitomi Tanaka, I don’t feel delight, but just think how much her shoulders must ache, and wonder what thoughts are hidden behind her face. The internet seems to host no information on her as a person. I searched on her name, and found myself on Pornhub, which seemed like a window onto people’s pain and despair. That is a subject for art, if I had the courage and skill and insight to try. There are ethical porn providers (dignity, consent, employment rights) out there but the unholy alliance of Mindgeek (who I think own PH), UK government and the self righteous are driving them out so vast exploitative corporations monopolise sexual imagery, So that’s how I responded to your art.
Sorry to have been so slow when it comes to giving a response to your good thoughts. Yes, she must get bad backache but she doesn’t show it. She seems to treat her breasts as a joke too. And I’m sure I saw her making disparaging remarks about them somewhere or other. She crops up all over the place on the Internet. She’s still just a girl and I guess she thinks about girl stuff and does the same sorts of things as any other girl today in her free time. I’d say too that she’ll have a problem finding a man who will treat her right. But then I’d say that many women have that problem. Certainly most of the women I have encountered. But back to her breasts… I have never, in 70 years, seen breasts that are so perfect in form. The artist is a voyeur and looking at things that are so perfect in shape, like great teardrops, brings delight and joy, and helps make life worth living. I am thankful that I have been afforded the privilege of witnessing such perfection. And she has millions of ardent followers. One might argue that she is of great therapeutic value. I’m not really interested in porn. I was curious because I grew up in the UK and there was no access to porn, just the Benny Hill, or some glamour girl magazine. So when the Internet came along it was like a breath of fresh air. It allowed me to satisfy my curiosity. Most of what I have seen is just plain disgusting and I don’t want to know about it. But there are people out there that get turned on by the weirdest things. In my youth porn, or nudity, was regarded as somehow ‘dirty’ but how can flesh be dirty in that sense? The dirt is surely in the mind of the perceiver. I think the Japanese porn industry is separate from the American. It’s hard to find facts. You just don’t know what to believe. You read stuff about porn being a multi-billion dollar industry bigger than mainstream cinema, bigger than Amazon, Netflix, and Hollywood, combined. The statistics are pretty mind-boggling if they’re true. There’s all sorts of interesting articles on the internet too for people who wish to inform themselves. But I must stop. I have so much on the go at the moment. Thanks for you input.