Cheng Fei

I've seen a lot of reviews of this work, but I think Coilhouse said it best:

Like cherubs stuffed to their breaking point, Cheng Fei’s figures revel in vice. Their corpulent bodies, drenched in lust and gluttony, roil and roll on the canvas. Faceless, save for collagen plumped pornstar lips, their appendages have ballooned and bloated so that they are nigh unrecognizable. Incapable of seeing, hearing, or smelling they can only imbibe and consume, feeding their own, selfish desires. Some, their skins forced beyond the confines of their elasticity, split asunder, revealing a beautiful and ghastly store of jeweled offal; strings of pearly entrails; the digested result of their hedonism which, even in death, they claw at.

In other words, creepy as hell. 

P.S.: I forgot to queue up the photos for Tuesday, so today you get two posts for the price of one!

Molly Loves... Desire Unbound

In a nonstalgic moment I took down my big book of Surrealist porn from the top shelf and flipped through it. So many old and wonderful things in here: Man Ray's photo of Barbette Dressing, Max Ernst's erotic collages and The Story of the Eye.

The book also has crazy wide margins. I used to write in it, like a journal:

All the signs are there: the scattered clothes, shed in luxurious heaps to the floor; the shed jewelry making tantalyzing tips as it loops, thrown down... the smell of aloe cream, rum [cake] & lavender...



The desire is there, at times so strong that in anticipation I will shed all these things and then turn to the bed, faintly surprised there is nobody.