Rose Artless

By Rose Maru

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.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463519332

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

::Table of Contents::

Introduction to Artless Rose Art

Introduction to Rose Art (1st Edition)

Introduction to Rose Art (2nd Edition)

Rose on Rose

Classic Black & White Photography

Rose Abstraction

Window with a View

Painted Rose

Rambling Roses

Bounce Your Boobies

Nether World Banned: Images Removed so the book can be approved (didn't work!)

Squeaky Clean (New Images for Second Edition of Rose Art)

Cover Me: Coming Up Roses

Just for Fun & Requests

Postscript

Truth and Consequences

Master Index

-Other Works Available by Rose Maru-

Raindrops on Roses:

- Art Director

- Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (HSDS/HSDD)

Rose by Any Other Name:

- Bath Time

- Braless Is Better

Dozen Roses

- Vulva-Vagina Veracity

Chains - The Novel

Dare to Bare

About Rose C. Maru (and Randy, too)

Contact Information

- - - -

Artless in your eBook - Introduction to Rose Art(less)

Interesting: you managed to find this book... but I'm pretty sure you had some challenges finding the original (which this isn't): Rose Art.

I presume you're asking, What the hell?

Yeah, join the crowd. I've been fighting it since 2015. You heard that right: I've been trying to get Rose Art released now for years. And not just because my spouse worked really hard to make me feel special; but because I don't like it when large corporations and faceless entities try to bully and otherwise warp what others can know. That's what this is all about. Most folks are ignorant, or at the very least don't care, that they are spoon-fed exactly what someone else wants them to see. If those powers want material buried, it will be. Hence, the fate of Rose Art (which was feared to be so evocatively obscene, it almost had as much nudity as fifteen minutes of a clean episode of Game of Thrones) which even the first morality police review board rejected: because they don't publish collections of erotic art.

My apologies - I shouldn't be unloading on you, the unsuspecting sheeple-people that get caught up in this behind-the-scenes scuffle - but I do want you to know when you 'go shopping' at your favorite ebook retailer, there's a good chance, you're only seeing what they want you to see, not what's really available. Then again, I'm sure that's how the entire world works.

The good news? At least I live where I have the freedom to talk smack about the big-league people and trust they won't descend upon my poor little defenseless body with their team of lawyers. Which is why I'm about to say: "Yea Big Corporations! They do so much to help and protect us! Thank you!" (Thank you for also calling off your mercenaries, covert trolls, and lower forms of life (not all from the legal system).)

Which, honestly, jokes aside, it is sort of cool I can publish something that pokes fun at these fearsome morality sentries standing guard over the internet. Just sometimes I get tweaked when I'm told a picture of my body is obscene, but a picture of Jon Snow's butt is luscious, stop-your-heart fucking art. (Wait - bad example, because I agree with it if you're asking me to compare my butt to his... holy. freaking. cow. Although I have to admit, I'm more partial to Utrech in The Last Kingdom, but who's counting? A cute butt is a cute butt - sorry.)

Long way to say, I was told I had to give up on Rose Art. It was dead and would never see the light of day as of December 2018.

Only problem is that I'm terrible at giving up.

So welcome to the re-release of Rose Art... minus the art. Yes, it's Rose Artless Art!

- - -

Table of Contents

- - -

Introduction

(First Edition - Original Book)

Where the heck did this come from? I certainly was shocked to see Randy working diligently at the computer, asking to take a few extra pictures here and there, and generally being secretive. For a normal woman, this would alert her to start sniffing her hubby when he returns home, monitoring credit card transactions, and going through phone logs and records.

Me? I live a different type of life: it means I have to be worried... very worried. Especially since I'd recently agreed that I would pose for him in a photo shoot... with another person.

Yet, that's not what I'm worried about. Instead I'm worried the UPS driver will deliver a huge box - and heaven knows that worries me. Why? It normally means toys... for me. Then I have to try them out. Then I have to be embarrassed if I like any of them. Then I might remember to use them. Then... well, you get the picture.

For once, though, I was wrong. Turns out he was a little alarmed to read my biography/about the author section in my book, "Coming Up Roses" (or more correctly, Cumming Up Rose's):

Unfortunately with my current restrictions where I work, I no longer get to have fun pretending to be a model and having my picture taken or other art created with my help. I'm now getting old enough to wonder if I'll ever get back into it, although Randy continues to insist I do my own cover modeling, which seems to keep the light alive in my heart - bless him for being blind. (About the Author in Coming Up Roses by Rose Maru, 2015)

He wanted a chance to prove to me that I haven't lost it - at least as a model and muse for art. To prove his point, he even constrained himself to images, many unplanned, all without fancy lighting, taken over the past half year. Bless his heart, I think he did a pretty good job.

I offered to provide a little narrative to go along with his work, sometimes silly, usually factual, and for-better-or-for-worse, always me.

We hope you enjoy our collaboration in producing "Rose Art." Hugs - Rose

- - -

Truth - Table of Contents

- - -

Banned and Rejected

Introduction - Revised (Second) Edition of Original Book

by Randy

The aware patron will quickly see there has been a hall removed and cordoned off. The art was removed as the publisher deemed it as unfit for public viewing and inappropriate for this venue, rejecting and banning the original edition.

While I have to acknowledge, some of it might have been slightly edgy back at the turn of the century, the National Endowment for the Arts has paid artisans (and sometimes I use the word very loosely) for what to my untrained eyes nears the border of pornography: displays made specifically and solely for the prurient gratification of the viewer. Yet, in so saying, who am I to say that wasn't the creators' vision all along making it a valid artistic statement.

So I look at the art Rose helped me create and I saw more than the publisher's review team. Of course, I also took the time to see deeper meaning in my creations and view it in the light it was created - the same light that has nurtured and helped my Rose grow. A light I saw threatened recently with her comments about being unworthy of visual artistic endeavors.

The review board (a single person having to make a rapid judgment-call of my work), believed otherwise. So I have attempted to appease him/her/it and removed the most likely works to have generated the rejection slip. (2016 - Nope: didn't work. Still rejected.)

Embarrassingly enough, I can see their point of view: they're trying to protect themselves from the unseen and unknowable threat of what might be offensive to someone, somewhere, sometime, something - anything -that might land them on the wrong side of an opinion.

While I hope this revision placates the morality police, I think we spend too much time cowering in fear of what we feel might offend others and too little time rejoicing in all the world has to offer.

Somewhere we've lost our way - Randal Maru, photographer/artist of this collection

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Truth - Table of Contents

- - -

2018 Side Bar: Because this book had been removed previously because I couldn't find a work-around (the above noted pictures that were removed (the Banned Netherworld section) wasn't the answer they were apparently looking for), we've tried to release again with a better explanation of what is trying to be accomplished. Fingers crossed. (November 2018: Nope! Didn't work!)

2018 Side Barred: Crud. Got final notice that Rose Art, no matter how we spin it, no matter what we could potentially do, is not permitted because Nobody publishes collections of sensual art. Wow. (And, please, don't spend time writing me with examples of piles of other published material that appears on newsstands and book stores, showing lots more skin than was left in the last revised edition, not the least of which include art magazines, Sports Illustrated, National Geographic (magazine and TV) - heck, a majority of main stream advertisements! - not to mention, beaches on most of the free world except the United States, and so on.) Only thing left to do is give up on the book.

Wait... what's this? An organ donor card? Huh, I wonder...

Call the transplant team and put transport on notice. We might be able to save some of her. Maybe in her death, she can bring new life elsewhere.

Look out world, here comes Rose Artless. (Which is a lot like Rose Art, except a pile of pictures were removed per publisher request.)

- -

(Well, I guess the good news is I found a pile of crapped out hyperlinks which I've tried to fix in the re-re-re-re-release and update to Artless. Fingers crossed it'll