There’s so much poetry written about women. An endless fascination with their beauty, character, and bodies. Women – the inspiration for art, muses for the artist. A woman can hold a gaze in a way that no man can recreate, she is the centrepiece of every room, the moon amongst the stars.
Women are empowered on every corner – reminded that they’re smart, beautiful, funny, and intelligent. They have an abundance of support systems, constant reassurances from advertising, and a network of people willing to help them. I began to question how, as a society, we have this unhealthy attitude of degrading men in an attempt to empower women.
There’s a mass under appreciation of men. The male anatomy, the male brain, the male heart, and the male sex – I think there’s endless beauty there. Something often overlooked.
I remember the first time I spent endless moments observing the male body in person. Height that towered over me, broad shoulders that symbolised his solidarity, and sharp edges, a blatant contrast to the curves of a woman. Beautiful straight lines, definition of muscles in places that I had never seen. I was in awe of him.
As time moved on I began to understand that the cognition of the male brain was significantly different to a woman’s. It was more linear, logical, and less erratic. There was a peace, a simplicity, something so comforting and safe rattling around in there. Something unfazed by the trivial – I loved it.
The male heart is probably one of my favourite places in this world. It’s like a secluded beach, a place that never understands how beautiful it is, how rare it is, and how much value it holds. A mans heart is this perfect balance of humility, simplicity, and softness. It took me a while to understand how this organ worked. I found myself thinking it was far more complex that it actually was, I found that if you feed a man love, he will flourish. A man’s heart responding to love is like watching a garden bloom in spring.
I learnt very early on that men have a completely different relationship with their sexuality – their desires and their chemistry. Some hold a shame, others a freedom – there is an unaltered intrinsic desire, something that isn’t imposed on them. Their desires carnal, and animalistic in a way that a woman can’t understand, a physical urge that is driven by biochemistry.
I’m often inspired by men, the way that they don’t know that they’re being watched, the way they grow when given the right amount of fuel. The way they look, and the way they love.