I've think about this much more than I should. Sometimes I think no; Sometimes I think maybe. Other times I think that maybe I should be spending my time more constructively.
Don Drummand's masterful trombone declares that music is his occupation.
Adult starlet Kimberly Kane looks coolly into the lens of a camera and declares, with the confidence of Duchamp pointing at a urinal: Porn is my art.
The witty Billy Watson, a pornographer whose porn-adjacent work goes places I enjoy, like into conversations with intelligent, with-it, porn women who aren't Nina Hartley (she isn't the only one), takes my view: Once you jack to it, it isn't art.
Kane disagrees of course. And I disagree with her. Or at least her reasoning. Even if teenage boys can jack to anything (I offer myself as proof), the Author's intention plays a large role in its self-definition. If you have, say, Michael Ninn (I'm going back here) who intends for his work to be more than a jack piece, then yes, it's art. But your run-of-the-mill gonzo producer is churning out a product. So no, no art there.
Though I disagree with Ms. Kane, I have seen a few of her scenes, and her Artist Declaration is right on: Porn absolutely is her art.
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