on nude art

Presumably what is moving about an erect penis is its fragility, the brevity of its gravity-defiance, its shadow of flaccidity.  Similarly, breasts move by the optimism of their suspension.  There -- but by the grace of God -- go I (flaccid).  When Greek sculptors immortalized the beauty of the ripe body by casting it in stone, in a way they underlined, paradoxically, the fact of brevity in which beauty lives, the fragility that names it.  The triumph of beauty is not separable from its proclamation of vulnerability.  Even in the case of eighteen-year-olds, formidable tautness of flesh (armored beauty) is undermined by assurances that they are "children" after all, and hence vulnerable.  Attempts to instantiate in the flesh itself (as opposed to some speculative realm of platonic marble) Beauty as unalterably firm Form, such as we see in breast-implants, are doomed to desecrate the very shrine in which they would comprise the altar.