The Private Collection 1970-1979
Edited by Dian Hanson
Taschen
$39.99
Dian Hanson has my dream job. Slowly, methodically, she is archiving the history of printed pornographic images before every human who has ever held their junk in one hand and an actual paper and ink object in the other has wanked themselves off this mortal coil. For a century where everyone under 30 associates porn with a website more than a book or magazine, Hanson is the ultimate fetish librarian, in an impeccably white blouse and strict spectacles. She rubs her perfect gams together under her desk, lording over a British-Museum-scale library of the world’s smut, our collected history of arousal in print.
Hanson is the official Sexy Editor for Taschen, and with Private she’s done it again. She reprints material originally intended to arouse a reader/spectator, and in many cases—certainly that of Private, as we will see—the artist and publishers themselves. Reformatting with an ingenuity usually attributed to the creators of Nirvana and "Star Wars" boxed sets, she preserves the ephemeral medium of pornography with gorgeous permanence. Regardless of their content and subject matter, these editions are enough to make any book collector cream their panties.
The Private box set is embossed with that special 70’s gold-red blend of class and sleaze, showcasing possibly the most erotic brilliant icon I have ever laid eyes on: a luscious red heart with round cheeks and a subtle slit in its tip. The entire set, which fits in one open hairy palm, houses five 192-page volumes of brightly colored hardcore photo sets and pin-ups. I love seeing images that used to be stashed under a mattress presented in a way that can be displayed proudly on a bookshelf or coffee table.
Private Magazine was the labor of love for a Stockholm hobbyist nude photographer turned sex shop owner named Berth Milton. Inspired by Guccione’s Penthouse, Milton created a digest to showcase his photography. Private’s first glossy features showcased colorful, fashionable women with spread legs, all designed and photographed by Milton himself, as well as sexually progressive editorials. Milton’s boldness put him at the forefront of European legal obscenity and free speech debates.
Taschen’s boxed set is pretty much wall-to-wall graphic “erotography” and I must say that, even for the horndog likes of your humble reviewer, a little goes a long way. As masturbation material, I’d think of it like a rich dark chocolate cake you keep in the fridge, only eating one slice every few days to keep from hallucinating.
Prurient interest aside, of course, this reproduction allows us to gaze into the libido of the late Twentieth Century European male through the obsessive, controlling artistic mind of one entrepreneur.
Flipping through Private definitely gives the impression of uncovering a box of slides or prints in an attic or thrift store. The singularity of vision in these pictures gives you that thrill of looking at something that was produced by one person for his own benefit, never intended to be seen by you or anyone else. Milton staunchly staged his own fantasies rather than pandering to what he thought would sell, and that is apparent in the consistency of the sexual energy and emphasis on certain activities like facials and group scenes. Milton often uses natural outdoor light, a huge variety of exotic settings and fantastic set-ups. Highlights include a hockey gangbang, caveman coupling, and one traumatizing scene whose caption reads “…I didn’t imagine that the clown costume could hide such a magnificent erection.”
I enjoyed Milton’s progressive editorials, the vintage naked Chevy ad and the 70’s outfits! It’s also worth noting the wide variety of body types, races, ages, and general style and attitude of models, as well as some damn good looking guys, all of which I am starved for in mainstream hardcore.
As a porn performer and spectator, I would like to think I know the difference between a fake smile or a real one in the same way we learn to sniff out a faked orgasm. The images from these shoots seem to have been chosen as much for the joy and excitement they capture as for bodies or faces looking perfect, as they do in many American hardcore shoots. In some cases, pictures where the models' eyes are rolled back in their heads seem to have been selected specifically for their uninhibited ecstasy. I generally cringe at pictures of myself in the throes of orgasms, probably because I am not used to portraits like these. It may be cliché to mention, but for me the huge smiles and campy settings produce a joyful, soulful portrait of sexual fantasy.
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