Big Love For BriefMagazine.com

Don’t be fooled. While those looking for men in skivvies won’t be disappointed, there’s a lot more to this artful, minimal blog. A showcase for photos pilfered from all over the place, the site presents images without text.

Context or no, the images -- whether they are candid shots of straight boys mooning guests at a party, a boxer weighing in naked before a fight, or a photo of the gay hanky code as posted in an S.F. leather shop circa 1979 -- are all compelling in their ability to amuse, arouse, remind, or inspire.

The best part? A new set (admittedly one or two often repeat) appears every time you refresh. Bookmark this time waster now.

-- JOE MEJIA

Previously > Our Year With Lady Gaga

Olan Montogmery's Mom & POP comes to Soho

From left to right: Sage Salzer, Kenny Kenny, Olan Montgomery, Gazelle, and a party-goer

The opening of the month-long “Mom & POP” exhibit at Soho’s Ward-Nasse Gallery -- featuring works from pop artist Olan Montgomery’s new book POP: Art inspired by New York’s own subcultures from celebrity to subway -- was a mob of art fags and scene queens, many of whom have been the subjects of this downtown painter’s oeuvres.

Montgomery gained notoriety for his photograph commemorating the closing of the iconic Meatpacking district restaurant Florent. “That was a real pig’s head we used!” said Gazelle, the drag artist from the photo.

“That looks like me!” squealed former club kid and nightlife queen Kenny Kenny, referring to the “Prima Ballerina” shot in Montgomery’s coffeetable-topper. Inspired by photographs, the artist paints other big celebs like Alan Cumming, Jack Nicholson and Rufus Wainwright, but also local dignitaries like Amanda LePore, Richie Rich, and Kevin Aviance, who made an appearance donning earrings bigger than my head.

New study reveals Van Gogh may have lost his ear to another man

A pair of German art historians think there's more to the story of Vincent Van Gogh's ear than meets the eye. In a new book, aptly titled Van Gogh's Ear, Hans Kaufmann and Rita Wildegans claim the artist Paul Gauguin lopped off the painter's ear with a fencing sword, either in a fit of rage or self-defense, and that it was the incident, not a more generalized madness, that drove Van Gogh to commit suicide two years later. (Not in dispute is the fact that Van Gogh gifted the severed flesh to a prostitute -- lucky girl).

Whether or not the wound was self-inflicted, it happened just as or after Gauguin was leaving Van Gogh's house after a tumultous visit that may or may not have been sexually charged. In any case, this wasn't your average bro throwdown. According to Kaufmann and Wildegans, the two tortured artists upheld a pact of secrecy after the incident -- "Gauguin to avoid prosecution and Van Gogh in a vain attempt to keep a friend with whom he was hopelessly infatuated."

--JESSANNE COLLINS

Previously > Dolly Parton's Book of Many Colors

The trouble with tattoos

For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted a tattoo. Since I started pestering my mom about getting inked when I was 14, she's threatened to a) instantly suffer a full on foaming-at-the-mouth-seizure and then b) refuse to have anything to do with me once she's recovered.

Now that I'm old enough to know she's just being dramatic (I think?) and smart enough to get the tattoo somewhere she'll never have to see it, I'm considering taking the big plunge. Sure, it's permanent -- and that's kind of scary. But I'm banking on the fact that I'll a) love my tattoo I'd never want it removed and b) in 10 years scientists will probably have developed some kind of baby wipe that'll easily get rid of unwanted ink.

If only we had that technology now -- I'm guessing that the folks in this ridiculous slideshow featured on the UK Telegraph's site might want to partake. From a freshly sheared Britney Spears to two pegauses humping (while one smokes a cigarette and a rainbow cascades behind them) these are some of the worst tattoos out there. But who am I to judge? The pixelated Super Mario Bros clouds I want to get on my ribs are probably total nightmare fuel for the guy who got the Alf tattoo.

-- NOAH MICHELSON

Previously > It's summer, season of ridiculous shoes

My Little ... Alien?

When I was growing up, I was arguably the gayest creature on the planet. While my brothers were busy waging otherworldly wars with their action figures, I spent my time trying to get He-Man's plastic furry underwear off. My parents were probably (certainly?) befuddled by their up-and-coming queer, but God bless 'em, they never batted an eyelash or let on that anything was "wrong," which is quite a feat considering I grew up in Wisconsin in the early '80s.

My favorite toys were My Little Ponies. I must have had 12 or 14 of them -- unicorn ponies and pegasus ponies and sea horses ponies you could take in the bathtub. Pink ponies and mint green ponies and ponies that smelled like cotton candy and ponies that were dipped in glitter. One Christmas when I awoke to find the My Little Pony stable sitting under our tree I thought I'd died and gone to little homo heaven.

So when I ran across artist Mari Kasurinen's AMAZING cinematic takes on My Little Ponies I almost wet my faux leather office (full disclosure: cubicle) chair. Kasurinen has taken the beloved ponies of my youth and turned them into Storm Troopers and Edward Scissorhands, the Joker from Batman, and my personal favorite, the alien from Alien. As if the very concept wasn't genius enough -- the execution is just as brilliant. The ponies are available for purchase for around $400 which seems like a small price to pay to be transported back to my youth without having to catch a flight to Wisco to rifle through my mother's attic.

-- NOAH MICHELSON

Previously > Cartoon characters we have known and loved

Public Penis Art: SF Edition

Popnog reader Brandon Middleton took our plea for public penis art from around the country seriously and sent in this fine specimen he happened upon near Lake Merced in San Francisco.

Lovely find, Brandon. Now -- the rest of you slackers -- get out there and start trolling the back alleys and back woods of your respective hometowns and send us some phallus photos!

Previously > The joys of public penis art

The joys of public penis art

One of my fellow Out staff members (he'll remain nameless to protect what little innocence he's managed to hold onto) sent me the above picture. He snapped it somewhere on the streets of New York and it reminded me of the 60ft painted phallus we featured last week.

Note the cultural lessons we can learn by studying the differences between the two instances of public penis art: in America we are apparently less concerned with size (though, given the scale, we still like 'em ample), here we're still primarily fans of the cut variety, and whereas the Brits hide their desires on their parents' rooftops, we happily, proudly display them on any old bus shelter.

We're hoping to make our public penis art posts more of a regular thing. If you see one, snap it and send it to us Popnography@Out.com.

Previously > In praise of teenage size queens

In praise of rooftop teenage size queens

From the Kids Do The Damndest Things file:

The BBC is reporting that an 18-year-old secretly painted a 60ft penis on the roof of his parents £1million mansion in Berkshire, UK. Apparently the painting had been sitting unnoticed for the past year. The teen's parents say they'll have him scrub it off when he returns from traveling. We say what a bloody shame that'll be.

Previously > Kenneth Anger at P.S.1