Artist | Hobbyist | Digital Art
Hello. Please feel free to call me Tru.
I suppose I should begin by telling you that I am new to the digital art form as I write this in September 2012. I used to be able to draw quite well as a child, but as I got older, that ability seemed to have taken flight... as in, left! Fortunately, though, with the advent and advances in digital art tools, it seems that I may yet be able to liberate at least some of my notions from between my ears. At any rate, I apologize in advance for any of my technical or creative blunders, as I am on a learning curve.
Also, allow me to declare that I am guilty as charged... a confessed and unabashed perpetrator of the crime of being completely enamored of muscular girls. I have been so, for as long as I can remember. I am captivated by the sight of the fit young mom across the street whose calves reveal her avocational pursuit as she climbs into the family's Expedition to run the kids to school. I am mesmerized by the prominent cephalic veins that run the length of the cute collegiate women's soccer goaltender's flawless biceps. I am gobsmacked at the presence of the naturally or purposefully hardbodied 20-something who strides confidently past at the mall, her cap sleeved tee shirt seemingly tailor made to showcase her prominently perky triceps. The world of lightly to moderately muscular girls is rich with wonder for a guy such as myself. There is little on this planet that commands my attention more readily than the presence of a muscular girl. Except perhaps this:
The muscular girl in distress. The muscular girl in a situation that she cannot control. The muscular girl having met her match. The juxtaposition of her usual confidence, competence, and strength with her confounding dilemma is, to me, replete with erotic opportunity. While I genuinely admire all of the overt competencies that are associated with muscular, athletic, powerful girls, contemplations of their occasional vulnerability and human frailty reveal an oft overlooked aspect of their spectacular beauty. My humble art efforts will endeavor to mine that rarely tapped vein... that of the muscular girl in distress.
The internet, by and large, is saturated with still and videographic depictions of the persona with which muscular girls have been assigned in Western culture: that of the woman who has "come a long way, baby". Whether a wrestler or superheroine or law enforcement officer or explorer of vistas terrestrial or alien, she bests her male counterparts and malefactors with ease and grace. Even in those rare instances where we - typically we men - are allowed to see her struggle in a momentary loss of equilibrium, the moment is fleeting, and all to often, disappointing. With all due respect to those of my gender for whom the notion of being "topped" by their muscular counterparts is the nugget, my art will seek to serve the interests of the rest of us... those who long to see what happens when those exquisite muscles finally fail... when both captor and captive break ground that is too little traveled... when the captor is the apparent victor, but both parties get what they long for.
All of my efforts will, in some manner, depict strong girls who find themselves in some element of distress, yet all will be elementally willing participants in their fates. My scenarios are not about strong girls as victims. Rather, they are about strong girls who are woman enough to willingly explore vulnerability as a component of their personality, as well as a facet of their sexuality. "Tru's Girls" are hardly fodder for victimization, but are resilient enough to entertain the sensuality of struggle and the erotic electricity of being overpowered. A "Tru's Girl" is woman enough to react enthusiastically - and without feeling elementally diminished - to the notion that someone wants her so badly that he - or even sometimes she - is willing to simply "take" her.
The possibilities are endless. The only limiting factors are my time and my talent. Hopefully, I'll find at least a little of both.
Lastly, to address any muscular gals who pass by here and have read this far, I hope you'll not be offended by my depictions. Instead, I invite you to consider the possibility that the cosmetic dimension of your athletic comeliness - which you must concede is not lost on you - suggests the possibility of another dimension: One in which you are a secretly willing victim in a "crime" of passion.