True to his pseudonym, gay erotic illustrator Tom of Finland was actually a Finn. Born Touko Valio Laaksonen in 1920, he was obviously a humble man. As a young WWII recruit, he was largely inspired, creatively and sexually, by the hyper-masculine, physically fit military aesthetic of the Allies and Nazis (minus the fascism of the latter). He then invented his own army, consisting of a battalion of big cock dudes who were always looking for a good fucking and sucking. By the time of his death in 1991, at the age of seventy-one, his reputation as an iconic pornographer was known around the world. it has only expanded since.
Beginning in 1968, Laaksonen developed a series of black-and-white graphic novels titled kake, named after his mustachioed star character. Two different stories, rendered in pen and ink and arranged in sequential page order, were on display at the David Kordansky Gallery. Both tales are rape fantasies which, in classic Tom of Finland fashion, are not portrayed as obnoxious, but rather as opportunities for playful debauchery, with plenty of positional swapping so everyone has a chance to be up or down. The action is fast and furious: No need for lube or brushed teeth, it’s all wham, bam, fuck me man! The excess of everything is downright comical.
In Kake vol. 22 – “Highway Patrol,” 1980, Kake is depicted as a leather-clad biker being savagely raped by a couple of highway patrolmen behind a giant billboard. In the meantime, Kake vol. 21 – “Fat Rider” 1978, begins as a countryside trespassing conflict and escalates into another threesome, involving boot licking, double penetration, water sports, and more. You can practically hear the ecstatic moans and moans emanating from each framed panel. On a softer note, the exhibition also included preparatory sketches, showcasing the artist’s masterful drawing skills, as well as “mood board” photocollages, made up of images torn from magazines and newspapers. of men and their assorted horse-drawn machines.
Obviously, the sfeats of Kake and company are not intended for your Aunt Gladys. But nowadays, someone is likely to be offended. Has the alarm been sounded about this shameless celebration of “toxic masculinity”? Honestly, judging the work with such a flint mind is stupid and counter-revolutionary. For most of the last century, gays have been portrayed as prancing thoughts. Laaksonen shattered the stereotype, offering an alternative full of smiling sexy studs that have inspired countless men to launch their own sexual explorations. His vision was particularly influential in the era of gay clones of the 1970s and helped to provoke many cultural debates about what constitutes “manliness” in both attitude and appearance. How wonderful that Laaksonen has magically transformed worn-out images of machismo into gloriously flamboyant symbols of fagginess that often make even the most flirty drag queens seem quite modest in comparison.
Interestingly, or perhaps ironically, the gallery’s location in West Chelsea was once an after-dark playground for Tom of Finland types. Until the early 2000s, the neighborhood and the nearby Meatpacking District were dotted with various leather bars and clubs. (Only the Eagle remains, a few blocks from Kordansky, surrounded by glass skyscrapers.) contest. Meanwhile, a slew of retailers are offering a wide range of merchandise, from oven mitts to puzzles, adorned with all manner of distorted ToF images. Even in a gentrified and commodified world, Laaksonen’s work still has the ability to shock, delight and awaken. Horny guys with ten inch erections will never go out of style.
