Letters to Domai
Thank you so much for your web pages and what you are putting out in the world in terms of the way you define art, aesthetics and nudity! Your DOMAI.com girls are the purest and most beautiful photos of women available anywhere, and embody the exact aesthetic I have longed to see most of my life.
From the day I had an inkling, probably as an 8-year-old, that women were the most beautiful and fascinating form of art in this world, I have been permanently hooked on feminine beauty of all sorts. I took great care then in being sure I would be undisturbed when I pulled Dad's Julie London "Calendar Girl" LP cover from the HiFi box to gaze at her in 12 different outfits... not to allow myself privacy for anything illicit (as some may consider masturbation, for that didn't even occur to me, oddly enough for another 3 or 4 years), but because it made my heart race wildly in what I now know was sexual interest, and because it tickled something elsewhere in me, too, that I would now call artistic or aesthetic -- the mystery of proportion & curve, color, shape & size, that makes one thing inexplicably more moving or more interesting than another, or moving and interesting in a way that is qualitatively different from another thing equally moving and interesting -- and I wanted to enjoy those feelings unhindered for as long as I could.
Around age 10 or 11, I found a full, heavy brown paper grocery bag sitting at the bottom of the 55-gallon drum at the very back corner of our yard where we burned our trash (in those days that's what you did), and in the bag was a stack of 1965-1967 Playboys that my father was throwing out. (I've always wondered if he simply outgrew them, did it under the sweet duress of my mother, or felt it was time to make them scarce with my brother (a year younger than myself) and I at an age where snooping was more likely to occur, and where our interest was growing in the mysteries of adulthood. If it was the latter, that effort most certainly failed!) Any which way, when it was my turn to take out a bag of trash and burn it, I went gladly and lingered until I was missed, often at dusk, looking at beautiful women on soggy or snow-crusted pages in the flickering amber light of trash burning in that huge, rusted metal barrel. The women I most admired were often the most simply adorned -- elegant in proportion, grace and visage... and when I see and recognize them in the present day in what are now 40-year-old collector's issues, I see that my favorites were/are as aesthetically wondrous as these lovely young women of DOMAI.
Through junior high, high school and college, when I was very single and rather attached to "men's magazines," I gravitated whenever possible to the simplest, most natural presentations of naked women, spurning excessive and ridiculous lingerie and heels or egregiously lewd or undignified poses. When it seemed that Playboy and Penthouse were the better choices over Hustler and any number of raw magazines, their pictorials evolved more and more into highly stylized, highly idealized, and highly fetishistic layouts that took them further and further away from the truly beautiful and erotic wonder that the female face and form naturally offers. And today, any amount of surfing the Internet, either cursory or in-depth, reveals a mountain of unwholesome, pornographically-presented nudity and sexual interaction, and, by comparison in volume, an anthill's worth of decent, respectful and loving (are the opposites of misogynistic and misogynous "philogynistic" and "philogynous"?) photographic female nudity.
I often wonder how this generation of men and women now growing up and coming into their own will deal with [conquer or get past] the ideal of feminine beauty that is being put out there in outrageously unrealistic and heavily stylized depictions of feminine beauty, a type of image, or set of image types being burned hourly into the minds of both sexes by the likes of Maxim, Stuff & FHM, and women's fashion magazines, never mind Playboy, Penthouse and all the others. I only wish that the Stobblehouse aesthetic would spread like wildfire and the rest would recede and give way to it. Not only would it clean the imaginations and tastes of a great many who seek out the less savory images available out there, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it would inform and enlarge many men's concept of what beauty is in a woman, enabling them to see, as I (and I'm sure you) do -- the simple, artful beauty in so many women around us that might otherwise be overlooked or ignored by eyes conditioned to look for an idealized, unrealistic, and unwholesome stylization of beauty that is ultimately deceitful, misleading, and hollow.