Pornutopia is the realm of unbridled fantasy. A shadowy landscape of the mind where the ghosts of sexual desire roam free from any chains. The chains of decorum, the chains of politeness, the chains of social mores are but remains of a ruined construct of obsolete rules. At the same time, it’s a wondrous wonderland of fulfillment. A flesh-colored geography, bright and sunny and rich. It’s the land of possibility. The land where our psychic phantasms gain flesh and live. A land of plenty, but also of debasement. Plenty debasement, one hopes. In all the erotic splendor of an El Dorado of the flesh, women are goddesses slumming down on earth, immortals among men, generously granting the lowest wish to mere mortals. For porn is the realm of the Woman.
Pornutopia is an atlas of bodies of Olympic perfection. A projection of our inner selfs, with the endless stamina of sexual Herculeses and the unsurpassable beauty of eternal Aphrodites. Movement is perpetual, unending, even mechanic. Reductium ad primal functione. Sex is the beginning, the alpha, the omega, the end, the be all of Pornutopia. Sacred sex, ritual sex, pure sex.
In this landscape of exposed limbs and erotic movement, where light and shadow fuse in a fiery dance worthy of holy Salome herself, every woman is an object, every man a voyeur. And everybody an enigma. A luscious uncharted jungle to be braved, explored, tamed. Fears to be conquered. Oh yes indeed, fears to be conquered. For Pornutopia is also a land of innocence. Before the burning screen, we're as children once again, discovering the secret world of grown-ups. Through the ghosts captured in film (what a happy turn of phrase the French have for this kind of fantasies: phantasmes) we're once more playing at pirates, explorers and adventurers, the sex mingling into the childish fantasy without any load of guilt or shame.
In allowing us to play-act our innermost childhood fantasies with an adult twist, Pornutopia uncovers the wastelands of the mind. That deep subterranean river that flows near the molten core of the id. It bubbles under pressure, it erodes the ego, it shapes our nature. We’re all a little ashamed of this vast uncharted continent continuously moving, unseen, rubbing against the shores of our perception, erupting violently to the surface when one least expects it. Inconvenient. Rubbing in our faces what we really crave. Some feel repulsed by even a brief visit to this vast realm of the senses.
The pious mind doesn’t like it. It recoils from this strong reminder that the soul cannot surpass the flesh, cannot escape the body, cannot command the gonads. Born from animals, we carry sex as an indelible marker of our descent. The progressive liberal mind hates it even more. Sex reminds it full on that there’s something they can’t progress from. It weighs the angels with the heaviest ball and chain ever devised by nature. The sex drive is ever present in man and woman. Except that, in Pornutopia, no rules apply. Each and every body is a pliable instrument of pleasure. Man and woman become meaningless distinctions in a orgy of the senses.
Every sexual role a performance, every encounter an exhibition, every coupling a competition, every orgy a communion. In Pornutopia all are one, no man an island, every man or woman a universe, every group a constellation of galaxies. Every orgasm a supernova of the soul.
But there, on the other side of the mirror, demons lie in wait. There are monsters. There are nightmares. The stench of decay. The abjection of teratological sex. The different other is pleasure, is rot, is disease. Under the deep river of sex roams the shadow of death. Oh, they’re twin brothers those jokesters: sex and death.
But there’s also beauty. Beauty and love. Love to be
found everywhere, literally. And with love, dreams of purity; and with purity. Innocence. The eternal duality of Saint and Whore dissolves in radiant bliss. There's nothing more exciting to watch in porn than the progress from Saint to Whore, a traject mapped thoroughly in the streets and alleys of Pornutopia. Shame becomes thrill, repulsion becomes desire, fear becomes wantonness, rape becomes pleasure, abjection becomes bliss. Fantasy is fantasy. Mind that: fantasy is fantasy.
