Rose Artless

Yes, Art lives with us every day. Even if your spouse's name isn't Arthur. Experience a year of he saw / she saw, where a married couple gets to challenge the other's perception in everyday events. Life creates art. Art creates life.
Except Art failed to realize how risk aversion modern publishing standards could be. So a strange thing happened on our road to releasing an art book that was originally designed to help explore the visual world and how different it could be for a "normal" sex-equipped brain versus an HSDD (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder) sex-neither-desired-nor-needed brain.
Hilarity ensued. Until it got mired in the need to not offend anyone. Which finally became a weird experience unto itself as the sexless wonder attempted to decipher what was offensive to her ("Oh! Holy hell, they're right! That picture makes my butt look like it could sink the Titanic!") instead of the possible real offender ("It can't be this one. See how the light skims across my little shaved flat to cast a shadow across my tummy? I look awesome slim! What? I don't know, I guess that's possibly my inner labia poking out.")
So what better way to finally give in, laugh the whole thing off, and share with the world a "mostly safe and hopefully inoffensive" artless art book. One where we attempt to leave in everything, including discussion as if the viewer could see the pictures that might have originally been present... but no pictures; letting the viewer's naughty brain and imagination into far more offensive places (just as long as in your pretend picture, I don't have a tummy pooch. Make it a toned belly... without my wide butt, too, while you're at it). Yes - we left everything in - except most of the art.
Thus, we start you on your journey to enjoying "Modern Artless Art" for the masses. Well, unless you're under eighteen - then avoid this baby like the plague. We don't want to jeopardize your developing brain or give you the wrong impression about S-E-X (yes, spell it, don't say it. Shhh!):

What do you think would happen should a wife lament, in a book's "About the Author" section how she feels sad that her age and current body preclude her from ever pretending to be a model again?
I thought he'd say, "Poor thing," get me some flowers, a donut (hopefully two), and ignore my complaints every time I headed off to the gym in fruitless pursuit of my long lost body. That was sometime in 2015.
What slapped me upside the head was an entire book of artwork generated from pictures he'd taken of me over the past year. Completely constrained to one year's worth of images. The current me, not my long since departed young-thin self.
But there, in black-and-white photography to color renditions were pieces of real art. I was taken aback. First because I couldn't believe he'd read that part of my book - and took it to heart to prove me wrong. Second because, "You're serious? You want me to share these pictures with the rest of the world? You understand what all I'm not wearing in most of these images, right?"
Thus started my job of going through to add commentary to his artwork. Leaving this master piece of work (yes, two words; as in above all others 'master' and 'piece' as in "You're a real piece of work, you know?") for you to enjoy, laugh through, and try to live a moment through my eyes. The ones that feed information back to a brain that fails to see 'sexy' in anything. An experiment for you to detach your brain from your sexual self, for better. For worse. For me and my tummy pooch, which I hope you won't fixate upon like I did.
I hope you have fun with *our* art project.