Titanmen

I’m sometimes asked if its odd to find myself in print or in event posters, places where pictures of me are used without consulting either me or the photographer. Or if it’s weird knowing that I appear in some degree of nudity on the covers of novels on bookshelves and bedside tables in perhaps thousands of private homes. Aside from my constantly lurking disbelief that I’m at all the attractive or emblematic guy whose visage should be so profligately reproduced, I’m not troubled by these, no.
I AM however sometimes bemused to discover someone has a photo of me hanging in his house (or in her house–I have observed both!). In the bathroom. Over the … well, I digress. Oh, and that I’m fully naked. This I can find discomfiting, as it means that someone deliberately selected, printed, and framed a photo of me, perhaps alone, perhaps in the company of colleagues, perhaps all of us with our junk front and center, and suspended it in a location where pretty much anyone visiting their home is guaranteed to be unable to avert their gaze from it at some point.  I find myself asking two questions: One: Given an opportunity to adorn the wall with something edifying or cultured, why has someone opted for a photo of me and my phallus? and Two: When his mother uses the bathroom, would the photo inspire her to wonder if that couch is actually that shade of green, or if that’s just a cheesy slipcover thrown on before three naked men sat down?
But then there’s this particular photograph.  It hangs in the bathroom of Jasun Mark, director of the TitanMen film PACKAGE, who took this photo as we were filming the final scene. In truth, I find it kinda thrilling that, of all the amazing porn this man has directed and all the gorgeous still photos he’s taken of so many sexy men, this is the image he has chosen to represent his accomplishment in the one room most likely to be frequented by anyone in his apartment. And yet I’m part of it. Me. I mean, maybe I’m attractive, but emblematic? How did THAT happen?

With me here are Max Sargent and Hunter Marx.  And their junk.  Front and center.