The erotic, the sensual, and the ascendant
I consider sexuality to be a grand throughline within not only my artwork, but also my relationship to the world. I have already talked about how I believe the universe is structured around its wish for connection in “Love is Violence”, so it’s no surprise that, sexuality, as important a feature of our relationships as it is, comes back again and again to my mind.
Today I wanted to define some key terms related to this main theme, as well as their metaphysical structure. This essay is, of course, not an academic text, nor based on bespoke research. Treat these as annotations, created as to be shared with people who can criticize them (maybe that’s you) and, later on, further developed into a more sound system. More notebook entry than philosophy, if you will indulge me. The main basis I’ll be using are conversations with friends, essays by other writers, and words by artists that inspire me, as well as personal analysis of their artwork; the last one is our main focus, of course — all of this is for the sake of art.
The relationship between these specific definitions and social understandings of the terms are many-a-times loose, but important; we are not seeking an objective image of any concepts here, instead, let’s go as far as necessary to create a framework for communication, which will inspire us when creating artwork.
These three terms — the erotic, the sensual, and the ascendant — represent three different moments that a same being goes through in the repeated process of longing and then acquiring. We can manipulate elements of our artwork to represent key features that connect but also differentiate these, as to further explore their connection to love. While I do believe they can be applied to other processes, we will be focusing singularly on love, which is my area of interest.
The erotic | All about longing
The erotic is made interesting by its inherit tension; it is expressed in that moment when we long for something, still unsure of whether we will get it. My initial impulse was to describe the concept as centered on “a want which feels like need”, I decided against that as to avoid creating a false dichotomy between those two; however, let us focus on what matters inside that description: “feels like need”. Eroticism cannot be detached, nor sanitized (nonchalant, as some might say), because it is characterized by the feeling that one will die without the object of their affection. This level of emotion is what connects eroticism to fear and makes horror such an interesting genre for tackling this subject; fear of rejection, fear of adverse consequences, fear of backlash, fear of immorality — all of these show up when one’s wish bubbles up to the point of becoming erotic. Horror allows us to further explore these fears, as well as confront them alongside our longing.
Sex is a common erotic symbol, but, as you already know, there’s more fun in finding eroticism elsewhere; not through allusions to sex, but instead through allusions to longing (phalic imagery, yonic imagery, and other direct symbols of sexuality can be fun, still, they are not of my interest here). With this in mind, we conclude that erotic love is erotic due to its violent intensity, not simply because of its sexual nature, which shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite. Sex itself is only erotic due to the common power of libido, which has an unique ability to subdue all other mental processes. That also allows sex to be nonerotic when this grand wish isn’t there, or, in the context of art, isn’t properly expressed.
The erotic being is desperate, obsessive, determined, thinks constantly about its object of affection, and, of course, acts accordingly, consciously or unconsciously. Its mind is centered on details within its own fantasy, even if these are unclean, and seeks release from not only longing, but also from the resulting uncertainty.
It’s this aspect which I believe mainly guided Ethel Cain’s work within “Perverts”. Although I’d say the album tackles, thematically, all three moments described here, emotionally, its music centers the neurosis of specifically eroticism. Such a perspective takes into account Cain’s own assertion that the project wasn’t made to be unnerving (which is a common interpretation), as well as its coupled themes of religion, sex, desire, and shame; it also describes why, personally, I prefer this project compared to her other albums and EPs. Although most of her music touches on eroticism, the usual soundscape she goes for doesn’t manage to express it with such verisimilitude.
It’s in the pulsating drones, the threats and pleas whispered beneath all-consuming bass, the withholding of resolution, the religious fervor, and the words of shame, that’s where the erotic resides; “Preacher’s Daughter”, “Inbred”, and even her most recent “Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You” have their great moments, but don’t manage to sink into the hysterical depths which are home to “Perverts”.
The sensual | Confidence brought by faith
The sensual resides between confirmation and fulfillment. it’s still underlined by longing, but not with as much tension as the erotic. There is no uncertainty, since the sensual being knows it will get what it wants, even if that moment hasn’t come yet. What makes this stage interesting is obvious, here tension and release have a seemingly paradoxical relationship, intermingling inside a single feeling; the wish for what one doesn’t have brings tension, whereas the faith on its future acquisition brings release.
Let us use a popular Brazilian artist as an example by comparing two of Marina Sena’s music videos: 2023’s “Dano Sarrada”, and 2025’s “Lua Cheia”. Sensuality is a persistent theme within Sena’s work, so it’s interesting to note how its portrayal has evolved across the years.
I do, yes, appreciate both songs and music videos, but it’s undeniable to me that Lua Cheia manages to portray these thematic undertones more successfully by sinking itself into the dirt of eroticism, still present inside sensuality.
Dano Sarrada is filled with imagery meant to be sensual: the singer’s tan body, half-naked, glowing beneath droplets of pool water; hair, straightened so it can be whipped around as she dances to the track’s slow beat; arms, legs, ass, contorting on top of satin bedclothes ... still, Dano Sarrada’s music video lacks a fair bit of the song’s sensuality. Between its laser lights, chrome minimalism, and modelesque detachment, it misses sight of many a fleshy detail that make art erotic, before it can become sensual.
Lua Cheia foregoes that perfection for a more maximalist approach. Sena seats with her legs spread atop an old sofa’s mixed-pattern cushions, not really inviting, more so domineering. Her curly hair, frizzed and asymmetrical, frames a look of determination, almost anger, interspersed by moments ecstasy. She walks past cracked walls to collect a bottle of liquor amidst mountains of yet-to-be-cleaned shot glasses sitting on the kitchen table, covers her hands in curcuma while offering the alcohol to her orishas, kisses her reflection on a dirty mirror. Outside, barefoot the singer stomps, almost runs, towards the riverside, where she smiles upon seeing herself possessed by a higher being. The tension is made evident by imagery which is much less sexual, but makes everything much more erotic through the sheer size of her longing. More than just big, it’s so great it becomes religious. Only then the video is made sensual by relaxed music with self-assured lyrics, also by the resolution, a possession, that is, ascension, which serves as the video’s climax.
The sensual being moves with confidence, relaxed, patient, though you should always keep its longing in mind, lest you represent it as uncaring.
The ascendant | Euphoria in Fulfillment
The ascendant describes that moment of full release, when one finally gets what they longed for. it usually represents a short burst of emotion, since most times euphoria can’t last forever — one must come down off the high eventually. Regardless, for a passing moment, one is filled, fully, finally, with overwhelming emotion. Emotion sublime: beautiful, but scary. There is no ascendance without horror, because no body can comfortably contain the soul that has grown inside.
Hakushi Hasegawa comes to mind when speaking of this aspect. So much of their music (especially my favorite: “Look At Me”) is comprised of these slow crescendos towards an ever-weirder climax, which almost manages to fall from the deep-end towards noise instead of music, and is made from a combination of garish impacts repeated until they stop startling you and become atmosphere. This initial otherness is essential, considering ascendance rejects full understanding and, again, is partly uncomfortable; it cannot be represented by what doesn’t weird one’s audience out.
The ascendant being is motionless, at least in feeling; it cannot help but let the ambiance wash over, ambiance which previously seemed too abrasive, but now can be fully accepted; after all, this was what it wished for all along. Bask in it.
So,
What now?
All of these aspects have already been tackled by other artists, all these moments already represented, even their spiraling nature — coming back from ascension, to eroticism, to sensuality, and ascended once again — that’s already been explored. How do we develop this further?
Part of me wants to say “I’m too young to know”, I do aim to research this more consciously in the future, and I’m not too well-read, not yet, so how would this current version of me develop such grandiose ideas into their conclusion? Another part of me knows I’m tackling this through “spirit.avi” and going for an approach which I haven’t seen quite yet, though, of course, I won’t talk too much about that so you can read into the series yourself. Maybe you will conclude it isn’t so special after all, or maybe you will find beauty in it.
Regardless, I aim to have a more unique answer soon enough. When I do, it won’t be an essay. Remember, all of this is for the sake of art.
