Please allow me to introduce, once again, Oscar Alejandro Plascencia (pictured above and throughout this blog entry), the author of this guest post on A Guy Without Boxers. I’ve followed Oscar’s blog, In So Many Words (click to visit), since he started publishing here in September, 2014. In the image above, Oscar is comfortable in his bed, nude (of course, I told you he was comfortable) and composing a literary piece to post on his site. Although not a practicing active naturist/nudist, he honestly admits to having enjoyed skinny-dipping with friends, both gay and lesbian, a number of years ago.
Over the past five months, Oscar and I have become electronic friends beyond the usual blogging-buddy experience. He subtitles his literary blog as “an exploration in metrical writing.” He describes In So Many Words as a “No H8 venue where all works written are the views and opinions of a mind in retrospect. I am a gay man and self-professed serial monogamist currently on hiatus.” There, a glimpse into his creative and innovative mind. He’s a literary genius (my words, not his) who offers his goal for his site: I hope to share my thoughts in the form of poetry, prose and sometimes short stories.
Oscar is an awesome author and poet and in the course of collaborating with him for this post, I’ve discovered a talented visual artist as well. Several examples of his art are located in the content of his personal experience below. Please get naked with Oscar and myself and enjoy his guest blog post, My First Male Nude. This is a true story based on a real-life event.
My First Male Nude
The model steps onto the platform in the center of the classroom with his back towards me and removes his robe, flinging it onto the floor and off of the platform. If only he knew how much I was looking forward to this day…He is very confident in his movements and appears to be a veteran at posing; he sits down on the platform, his back still towards me and rests his left arm onto his raised left knee. Our challenge is to capture the essence of the pose and not necessarily the details of the model as he will be changing poses every fifteen minutes. That explains the beeping that emits from the watch on his right wrist.
Charcoal lines, shading, smudging and even erasure marks start to take shape upon the once stark white, naked page before me. My sketch seems to be floating so I choose to blackout a negative space to contrast the model and add the platform on this otherwise bland view of his back. I’m nervous, perhaps even a bit paranoid as the instructor of this weekend, advanced art class circles the room, spying on the progress of each student standing before an easel. We had been sketching female models for the previous two weekends and this is our first, my first male nude.
“Male Study On Platform” by Oscar Alejandro Plascencia
I remove the current sketch to reveal a new, clean page on my easel and fish for a new willow vine from my tool box while the model changes pose. My right hand is soiled in charcoal soot, but I do not wipe it clean as this will serve for shading. The clock is ticking. I look up to find that I am staring right into the model’s dark brown eyes. He looks to be in his mid-fifties with short, salt and pepper hair, above the collar but long enough to curl at the ends. His mustache is overgrown and unkempt, concealing most of his upper lip. He sits facing me with legs crossed and palms upon his knees. I dare not drop my eyes below his navel. His bell is rotund, somehow I hadn’t noticed during his other poses. The spotlight off of his neck and collarbone is almost too bright. And that’s when I realize that he is the spitting image of my father.
“Nice blank page you got there,” the instructor states as he stands behind me. My charcoal stick falls to the floor. “Is everything okay?” I stammer and stutter as I retrieve it from the ground. “Yes, I just have a lot on my mind.” Half true, half lie. No, everything is not okay. And suddenly, I do have a lot on my mind. As I start to scrawl abstract shades onto the page the instructor moves on to the next student, but I can sense him keeping an eye on me as he continues his tour around the room.
I stare at this older model and force myself to render his facial features. His large eyes, the way his hair hangs, the shape of his nose, even the bags under his eyes all remind me of my father. I’m scratching the charcoal onto the page to make up for lost time. I could swear that I saw him smirk at me just now, but he is stoic and unchanging in his pose. I elect to focus on his face more so than his body. I’ve depicted every strand of hair, including the gray ones. But his torso is a careless and awkward scribbling of light and shadow that belie my true potential.
“Male Study-frontal” by Oscar Alejandro Plascencia
My mind is a muddled mess racing with images of my naked father. Flashes upon flashes of images brought to the fore like Hollywood paparazzi snapshots: Sitting on the couch, naked. Walking to the restroom, naked. Watching TV, naked. Always walking about the house, naked. Nothing shameful, nothing lewd. Just naked, naked, naked. I remember my father seemed comfortable and at ease in his own home, in his own skin. Maybe it was the decade, it was the 70’s. Maybe it was Summer, we didn’t have AC. Maybe he was just being (indoors who he couldn’t be outdoors) a free bird. There was never anything obscene about his nudity. Nothing lascivious. But I knew better than to invite friends over without prior notice to my parents.
The instructor stands behind me once again, but this time is silent. The model raises and lowers his brows, but otherwise is motionless until his wristwatch beeps and the instructor calls for a break. I circle the room observing the efforts of my peers and admire the many talents and their varying degrees of artistic interpretation. When I reach my easel the model, now robed, and the instructor greet me with smiles and kudos. “How would you like to receive private lessons?” asks the instructor. My furrowed brow prompting the model to interject, “I’m just admiring your handiwork, the offer is from your teacher.”
“Think on it,” says the instructor, “you have great potential.” But I think my young mind has had enough artistic nudity for now (not to mention the flash backs) without delving into private lessons. Something about the look in their eyes, the tone in their voices makes me wary. What have I gotten myself into? I had to forge my parent’s signatures to take this weekend class. The model steps onto the platform in the center of the classroom with his back towards me and removes his robe, flinging it onto the floor and off of the platform. If he only knew how much I was looking forward to this day.
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Muchos gracias, Oscar! Thank you for sharing the memory, the sketches and your nudity with us all. A fantastic job, amigo! Please remember to check out Oscar’s blog, In So Many Words (click title to view), and follow him so you don’t miss any of his fascinating works. He usually publishes his site Monday through Friday. He has earned his place on our Page of Fame: Dare 2 Bare. Click the title to go directly to the page.
My poetic friend, Oscar, has composed an awesome ode to nudity. It is so amazing and inspirational that I’m surprised the entire world isn’t cavorting bare at this moment! Published just this past Friday, February 20, 2015, it’s titled Au Naturel, (click to view directly). I know you’ll agree it’s an epic masterpiece joyfully celebrating nakedness!
On a personal note, I publicly extend to Oscar my sincere appreciation for his extraordinary contributions towards this project. He’s an awesome man to work with and an amazing talent in his own right. The honor and pleasure are mine. I’m grateful for all his efforts here. Return here next month, March, 2015, as he is the featured artist of the Spring Gallery, 2015, on the page, Boxer-Free Art. His visual renderings are a perfect way to welcome the return of Spring!
Abrasos desnudos, Oscar, mi amigo!
Peace! Get naked. Enjoy!
No Boxers, Briefs, Thongs, Bikinis, Jocks! Be Nude!