If i'm gonna tell it, then I gotta tell it all...

>> Friday, November 14, 2008

Confession: I don’t understand the necessity for naked breasts in artwork.

Perhaps I’m the only one that can’t see their intrinsic value (I don’t know exactly how much porn was around back then, so maybe this is all they had), so if someone can enlighten me, go right ahead.

All I see is: ‘Beautiful background, check. Coiffed hair, check. Glamorous, intricate ballgown, check. Pudgy white hands and bowl of fruit/vase of flowers, check: Covered-up reproductive parts, ahh…. Um… well, no.’

Could it have had the same effect without the breastage? Well, to me, yes. I like paintings, I don’t like looking at boobs. Especially when it looks like the subject’s inadvertently had a Tara Reid moment, and they’re on the red carpet at Diddy’s birthday, and they’ve let one slip.


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