Currently reading : The Cock in Cocteau

The Cock in Cocteau

12 October 2014

Author : harman-bains

‘Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying’ Jean Cocteau.

Saturday marked the anniversary of the death of the French poet, artist and filmmaker Jean Cocteau. A touché a tout (a finger in every pie) Cocteau was often misunderstood. He walked a lonely path but was notoriously ahead of his time with inimitable elegance. In 1930 he produced 18 explicit drawings for the anonymously published erotic story Le Livre Blanc, written by Cocteau himself. Described as “obscenely pious’, the drawings are erotic and gives the viewer a visual expression to the sense of being torn between a fallen ideal, the sexuality of dreams and a slide into fantasy. They are not the symbols of simple, unequivocal obsession or a comment on the division between heterosexuality and homosexuality, but a quest for the pure, his personal truth. Sensitively drawn, the models came from a variety of backgrounds. Some were casual pickups; others were lovers and friends, including the precocious writer Raymond Radiguet and the actor Jean Marais.

 

“His body was more like the one I saw in my dreams than the young, powerfully equipped body of an adolescent: a perfect body, rigged out with muscles like a ship with ropes”. This fluidity of aesthetics and theatrics is in a constant state of movement and to Cocteau the ecstasy of joy and fear. The male body itself becomes fluid….






The body was sat slightly hunched but with vigour. His torso was long. His tan had faded. As he stretched his arms towards the sky the ridges of his sport shone through. Blood ran like the ink on his arms. His dirty blond hair shone in the dim light. His back was soft and strong and his thighs were carved from the strength of a bull. Slightly rounded they pressed against each other, two strapping posts of might. He undressed fully and all senses arose. A hammer of virility. This was physical perfection and he perhaps did not know it. Patiently waiting for the break of silence to gaze once again.

 

 

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