For those of you that visited WestPride and saw the great exhibition you might have wondered over my collages. I mean, those of you that did not ask me.
I’m naked in the “Ajohan collages” but at the same time the collages are an opponent to porn and the image in media that tells you how a male body should look, behave, move and own the picture. My image language is another. I don’t have a six-pack, I don’t have biceps, my body is not a super masculine object nor is it a queer transgender flowing subject, but merely a naked bodily detail in my artwork. My face is turned away, I don’t have those crazy man eyes where sexy men look like they are going to kill you with just their gaze. My body is in black and white, where as most of the rest of the collage is in colour. It creates a dynamic and a feeling of standing on the outside. In one of the images I’m in a restaurant. In another in a made up living room. In one of the collages I am indeed standing in my own living room but on the other side of the windows there is something unfamiliar going on. And so on. The nudity is natural and contemplative even though it’s cut-in. But most of all, it’s not a sexual nakedness. An ordinary non-model-body, a cock, an ass, placed in a pine forrest, in a glossy magazine or on a post card view over the Mediterranean. Beautiful constructed images. With that feeling of not belonging. Standing on the outside of what male bromance is all about. Of course I realize that many viewers only will se nudity and sex even in my images. There is no space in the world where a naked happy body can belong any longer.
A lot of visitors stopped, asked, looked, asked again, interpreted, told me things, all incredible fun to take part of. Some say that in one of the shots it looks like I’m jerking off – I have my pants slightly slipped down, others say that my ass could belong to a woman, and many said that the image language breathes more female than male. The same goes for the turned away face. It’s not manly not to face the viewer, it’s not manly not to be a strong object. The sexualised man should be strong, have horny crazed eyes, have a strong body, show strength in the image. I’m nothing of those in these images. I’m fascinated over what happens when the male body is acting like what we expect women to be in images. Mostly men seem to be on the run or standing in group over a female that have passed out or been drugged (in commercials). I’d rather be the passed out body in that case. With those men standing over me. Some say I’m brave, some say I’m a fool, others that it’s too much. Some said I have a great body, others just yawn and call me stupid. No matter what I loved getting all the reactions. Since one of the other artists showed colorful vaginas in sparkling colours and gold (desperately want one!) a handful of men told me that it was nice to get some cock to bring balance to the show.
And yes. I’m comfortable out of my clothes. I’m not ashamed not to be all masculine like you are supposed to be. I’m not ashamed over my stomach, over my ass or my cock. I’m confident in my own body, so why should I be ashamed? I’m comfortable in my self and in my body as it is.