How do you feel about people who see your work as sexually gratifying?
This question stayed with me for a long time. At first, it stirred discomfort and frustration. What if they completely missed the point? What if, instead of dismantling the stigmas and taboos surrounding nudity such as hypersexualization and objectification, I was unintentionally reinforcing them?
But over time, my reflection deepened. I came to understand that as a creator, my responsibility lies in intention, context, and integrity, not in controlling interpretation. I can guide the message, frame the narrative, and be clear about why I create. But once the work exists in the world, it no longer belongs solely to me. It is filtered through each person’s experiences, desires, and social conditioning.
We live in a culture that has been trained to sexualize the naked body. That conditioning does not disappear simply because my work exists. If someone initially approaches it through a sexual lens, that says more about the system we inhabit than about the work itself. And in a digital world saturated with free pornography, those who are only seeking sexual stimulation will quickly move on. My work does not compete in that space, nor is it meant to.
What truly matters is what remains. Those who stay are the ones willing to question. Over time, repetition, presence, and consistency create cracks in deeply rooted beliefs. Slowly, the body stops being a spectacle and starts being seen as what it is: human, natural, and worthy of respect. If my work contributes even slightly to that shift, then it is doing exactly what it was meant to do.