Reclining Nude Amedeo Modigliani

Reclining Nude. Modigliani c. 1900

Valentine’s Day is a lovely thing – you’ll get no arguments here. But I also find a great deal of resonance in the every day and the unexpected. The quickie with your partner snagged during lunch; the tiny lick of heat just before a kiss; the accidental brush of a stranger’s skin. Those little moments, some stolen and some not, are almost always unexpected. For me, they are doubly as sweet.

Valentine’s Day gives couples an opportunity to reconnect, which is wonderful and very worth celebrating. But it’s sensuality, in general, that I think I’ll address during this Valentine’s week.

On Sensuality

There is sexuality, and there is sensuality. Sexuality lives in the obvious – the grin, the come-on, the last drink of the night. Sexuality is more subtle. It’s something implied. An affinity. A recognition. It lives in the eyes and the mouth and the collarbone. It lives in the hollow of the throat. Sensuality is subtext and metaphor; a promise often, though not always, kept. While sexuality thrives on demand, sensuality exposes your skin.