In this latest full feature, we take a three-part journey to Mexico.
We explore erotica with the startling multi-disciplinary project Pequeña Muerte ‘little death.’
Created by multi-disciplinary artist Chema Contreras and Andrea Valverde (cultural manager, sometimes model, sometimes artist) it’s an organic, visually stunning, mentally stimulating and emotionally invigorating curation.
Pulling in the talents of a swathe of Latin American artists, they take us on an erotically charged and unique project, without a defined beginning or end-
“There was no clear starting point or defined structure — from the very beginning, it was a free pursuit, guided by intuition and desire. There is no definite end because we start from the idea that both eroticism and death are cyclical forces, in constant transformation.”
In this first instalment, we ask, is there really a distinction between erotica and porn?
Is erotica (with all its beautiful romantic connections to Eros or Cupid) just a more palatable euphemism to say I want to ‘flick the bean’ and ‘choke the chicken.’
Pornography, on the other hand, is closer to advertising, to productivity, to raw reality—not in a literal sense. Sexuality is more complex than the simplicity of pornography.
What is erotica and how have you explored your own erotica?
Erotica, to us, is an intersection between desire, vulnerability, and expression. It’s not only about the sexual, but about the tension between what is hidden and what is revealed—about the nuances of intimacy and the way the body is represented, perceived, and felt.
In Pequeña Muerte, we explore the eroticism of language, image, and memory, questioning how desire is articulated visually and conceptually. It’s an exploration of how we consume each other—not only carnally, but emotionally, ideologically, and culturally.
Could you be accused of calling it erotica when in fact it’s just Pornhub stimulation?
For us, the difference between erotica and pornography lies in intention and narrative.
Pornography is often centered on immediate gratification and explicit depiction of sexual acts. Erotica, on the other hand, plays with suggestion, mystery, and the construction of desire through aesthetics, tension, and emotion. The erotic charge of an image doesn’t necessarily come from nudity, but from its symbolic weight.
Erotica doesn’t specifically address the sexual act, but rather the energy, imagination, and impulse from which desire, fantasy, and tension are generated. Yes, they are definitely intertwined, and the difference between these concepts is not a clear line; in fact, it is increasingly blurred. Erotica is framed within a dimension of mystery: it’s about approaching but not going through.
Consumed desire ceases to exist. Pornography is consumed desire in three minutes: immediate, false, and shallow.
Romantics used to say that a work of art is never fully revealed but generates multiple readings of itself. It is an infinite reflection that is never consumed. For us, erotica is precisely that, unlike pornography.
So, eroticism is presented differently?
When erotica is represented, we believe it comes closer to art, exploration, and multiplicity. It distances itself from reality; it is inspired by it and felt in the body, but created in the imagination, in the complex reading of sexuality. How it feels, how it is generated, what is desired.
Pornography, on the other hand, is closer to advertising, to productivity, to raw reality—not in a literal sense. Sexuality is more complexed than the simplicity of pornography. It is [pornography] is a raw sexual act that leaves no space for any other interpretation but the consumption of something entirely literal. And that, for us, does not approach art in any way.
Romantics used to say that a work of art is never fully revealed but generates multiple readings of itself. It is an infinite reflection that is never consumed. For us, erotica is precisely that, unlike pornography.
The male gaze is present in every visual representation of sexuality, designed for heteronormative male pleasure. This not only limits the ways desire is represented, but also shapes how we relate to the body, to pleasure, and to the image.
Does erotica challenge the ‘male gaze’ ?
For us, challenging the male gaze is an essential part of the project. The male gaze is present in every visual representation of sexuality, designed for heteronormative male pleasure. This not only limits the ways desire is represented, but also shapes how we relate to the body, to pleasure, and to the image. We continue to live in a society shaped by an imposed masculine perspective, one that often hinders the genuine experience of pleasure for any gender. Male pleasure is still presented as the only one that matters, and its viewpoint as the only one that’s legitimate.
We believe that even spaces considered socially accessible or free to explore sexuality—such as gay male environments—tend to replicate this same logic, leaving little room for other forms of desire or pleasure.
Feminine pleasure, for example, is more complex, slower, more constructed. Again, it moves away from the literal. In Pequeña Muerte we are not interested in suppressing the masculine perspective, but in bringing more voices to the table equally valid ones—and in questioning the consequences of that dominant ideal.
We aim to create narratives that confront the male gaze through sensitivity, sensuality, body diversity, a range of desires, and the recognition of complexity. For us, it’s about expanding the language of desire, questioning its structures, and imagining new ways of seeing—and being seen.
Stay #itchysilk for Part 2
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