nerve blogs
Rose & Olive
Houston neighbors pull back the curtains and expose each other’s lives.
Scanner
Your daily cup of WTF?
The Nerve Insider
A peak of what's new and hot at Nerve.
The Modern Materialist
Almost everything you want.
The Daily Siege
An intimate and provocative look at Siege's life, work and loves.
The Nerve Blog-a-log
Autumn Sonnichsen
A fashionable L.A. photo editor exploring all manner of hyper-sexual
girls down south.
ScreenGrab
The Nerve Film Blog
Chase
The creator of Supercult.com poses his pretty posse.
The Remote Island
Nerve's TV blog.
61 Frames Per Second
Smarter gaming.
ScreenGrab
The Nerve Film Blog
Brandonland
A California boy in L.A. capturing beach parties, sunsets and
plenty of skin.
|
 |
a letter from the editors
We have created Nerve because we think sex is beautiful and absurd, remarkably fun and reliably trauma-inducing. In short, it is a subject in need of a fearless, intelligent forum for both genders. We believe that women (men too, but especially women) have waited long enough for a smart, honest magazine on sex, with cuntsure (and cocksure) prose and fiction as well as striking photographs of naked people that capture more than their flesh.
Nerve intends to be more graphic, forthright, and topical than "erotica," but less blockheadedly masculine than "pornography." It's about sexual literature, art, and politics as well as about getting off — and we realize that these interests sometimes conflict. Erotica does not always understand this — that once our desire reaches a certain clip, attempts at artistry become annoying obstacles in the path of the nouns and verbs (or precious pixels) that deliver the goods. We find ourselves hunting for the naked details in erotica like rushed shoppers in a crowded store. Nerve intends to be direct with both word and image in this space, whether the result is flushed faces, genitals, or perhaps just reflective thought.
This is why we think the subject of sex deserves a magazine of its own: less to celebrate the gymnastics of sex than to appreciate the way it humbles us, renders us blushing teenagers. Our bodies are fickle, oblivious to convention, and not always beautiful. But we think shame (in small doses) is to be cherished — it makes us honest and human and trims our paunchy egos. It is also lush terrain for good writers; after all, rarely is honesty as difficult and memorable as it is in bed. We still have a smelly-fingered fascination with our shame and desire, and encourage others to unveil theirs in Fiction and Personal Essays that recount various experiences of gender, bodies, and cranky libidos.
Just as we individuals are not sure whether to be embarrassed or thrilled by our libidinous flights, our society as a whole suffers a similar schizophrenia, at once sex-obsessed and puritanical. Nerve's Dispatches section is dedicated to shedding light on some of these cultural ironies. You'll find other alluring offerings: wry Reviews of books and films; daily columns in The Regulars; Poetry by some of the world's finest poets; and Photography from the other portfolios of renowned photographers, to name of few.
As you may have gathered, we see sex as more than a popular sport and marketing tool: it is a truth-telling vehicle. Sex calls our bluff — it makes us want to lie, sermonize on the weather, spill our beer. We think this is good reason to look a little closer, examine our discomfort, maybe finish the drink.
Thankfully, sexual squeamishness has diminished a bit over the decades — enough, we think, to make a magazine like Nerve possible. We are grateful for this historical opportunity, and hope that you will help us make the most of it. Even if you don't share our fascination with sexuality, you should find in this space some of the most exceptional writing and photography in the country.
Finally, we should make plain that while we at Nerve believe in sexual freedom and obvious political rights, we are not on some fix-eyed mission to rally the forces of sexual revolution. Though some would dispose of taboos entirely, we prefer to gnaw on them like squeaky dog toys. Of course it's not lost on us that a world without taboos would be a little less in need of Nerve.
But there is little threat of that. So make yourself at home. You can give us a piece of your mind by clicking the "send feedback" button that appears at the end of every article or in forums with Nerve writers and photographers in NerveCenter. We've really done all this in the hope of hearing your thoughts, whether confessions, manifestos, harrumphs or hallelujahs.
— Rufus Griscom and Genevieve Field, Co-Founders
|
|
|
|
