For the most part, when someone says "pornography," what is meant is sexual material intentionally created for gross profit, which is also intended to sexually incite, arouse or satiate the viewer. It is often thought of as material for men, with graphic and explicit sex presented. It is often thought to be nonliterary. When someone says "erotica," what is usually meant is material created with artistic or creative intent, which is also intended to sexually incite, arouse or satiate the viewer. It is often thought of as material for women or couples, with sexuality presented subtly. It is often thought to be literary. And yet, were we to take any number of pieces created, marketed, intended or thought as belonging to one camp and place it in the other, changing only its context, what might have seemed obvious and clear quickly becomes incredibly murky. In the same vein, it is often the viewer, reader, consumer or observer who has the final say on which is which and what is what: it is he or she who ultimately makes those decisions for herself or himself, and with any number of agendas. For that reason, I tend to find both terms all but useless at this point, and use them rarely. I find all too often that the things which incite me sexually, which I find most erotic, would, by many, be placed in neither of those boxes. I find that many presentations, depictions and views of sexuality interest me, compel me, make me think, and are evocative and even beautiful, but I would class them as neither pornography nor erotica: they either clearly were not intended to sexually incite me, or they simply do not do so, but bring me to different places. I tend to define the erotic in a way that includes sexuality, but which is broader than sexuality: as a deep, fiery energy, as so many things in our world and lives which are sensual yet more than sexual, beyond that which is genital or partnered; an energy whose purpose is the very opposite of being sated to finish itself, but instead, to continually flourish, feed, bellow and blossom, never ebbing. I don't do work for the purpose of providing masturbatory fodder, sexual release or escape: in many ways, I very much aim for the opposite -- for the work I do which works with the erotic to inspire, to create question, to address the authentic, rather than the artificial. I think sex and the presentation of the sexual erotic is not in the least cutting edge, salacious or outré, because it is human, natural, instinctive and universal. While I support the work and aims of plenty of independent erotica creators and pornographers, I don't tend to think of myself in those terms, as the majority of my work -- including work with the nude body -- isn't intended to sexually satisfy. For those who do think of me or my work in those terms, I'm often interested in why, but I'm neither offended nor insulted, save when either of those terms are lazily used as a simple means to dismiss any work which includes or works with the body, the sexual, the sensual or the erotic. A vast majority of my readers, viewers and patrons over the years have always been women, of varied orientation, age and background. The why of that is in some ways simple: my work is not surrounded in misogynist language or approaches, it is not created to most efficiently get a heterosexual man to pull out the plastic. The context my erotic work is within is holistic, not one-dimensional: there is no systematic approach designed to create the fantastical view that I, or any other female subject, are a receptacle for sexual satisfaction, available 24/7, compliant, never angry, never questioning, never saying no, always coming second. It may be as simple as the fact that I'm female myself, and that my subjects and I do not have our stretch marks, wrinkles or grey hairs retouched; fake nails, breasts and expressions have no place here. On the other hand, why women enjoy my work may be more complex or mysterious: after all, with some of my work, if you were to take it out of context, and place it within a shroud of "porny" language, or in a website or venue clearly marketing pornography or erotica, it might appear little different than anything else. Or maybe not. Much of the time, I don't expend a lot of time or energy trying to define the erotic for anyone else much at all, because while it is universal, our experience of it is intensely individual and personal. Instead, when I work with erotic themes, personal expression, rather than definition or assignment, is my aim.