Pouch potatoes

Several weeks ago, I gently criticized Jeffrey Escoffier for reporting in his history of porn, Bigger Than Life, that Bob Mizer's mother knitted posing pouches for his models at AMG. I've never seen a knitted pouch, I scoffed. Sure enough, soon as my words hit paper, my eyes landed right in a patch of purled pouches – all contemporary with Mama Mizer's work, employed on models by photographers Lon of New York and Frank Giardino. So my apologies to Mr. Escoffier, although I still haven't seen one on an AMG model.

If Mama Mizer did know how to knit, she'd certainly have wanted to replicate for her son the stylish pouch seen in the accompanying photo of Lon's model, Dave Shepard. This knit version sure looks to be cozy, if not too revealing. That's why I prefer the looser weave of its descendants, mesh and netting, with their hug-the-curve clinging and tantalizing glimpses of flesh.

It seems that when given his druthers, Bob Mizer preferred to ditch pouches altogether. He initially used them in deference to his sanctified mother, because he didn't want to offend her. Some say that's why his early photos are so innocent, chaste. How to explain how tawdry they became when postal regulations allowed the posing strap to be junked, in favor of showing the junk? His mother had died at about the same time. Released from worries of her concern, and given permission by the authorities, Bob catered to his customers and went right for the cock. Well, not entirely – he was more into assholes. Seems to have been his main obsession all along. He was also into aerial suspension, mild bondage, and more asshole.

This is all revealed by a fabulous new book, Bob's World; The Life and Times of Bob Mizer (Taschen, cloth, $59.99), which revels in Bob's color photography as it collects his post-pouch pictures. Both substantially oversized as well as generous with 288 pages, the book was edited by a woman with a mission. Dion Hanson loves pornography. She spent 25 years making men's magazines like Outlaw Biker and Juggs before switching over to her true love, gay porno. She's had great success with her glamorous Taschen collections Tom of Finland XXL and The Big Penis Book. If it doesn't seem possible that she's reviewed all 500,000 of Mizer's color slides that current owner Dennis Bell now houses in Emeryville, she's sure come up with plentiful doozies for this book.

They're grouped into chapters that detail the strange and curious world that Bob created, delivering a truer and raunchier depiction than the highly fictionalized movie Beefcake. A host of surviving collaborators and friends give first-hand testament to the ins and outs of Bob's daily life, his work habits, even his tricks and sexuality – despite all the asshole celebration of his photos, he didn't like fucking; he was more into cocksucking, and sucked his way through the majority of his models. "Old Reliable" founder David Hurles calls them "futureless boys." They're cast-offs, runaways, hustlers, and hop heads. Bob liked em gnarly. If there's a guy with a big dick, it's accidental. Ditto a guy with muscles. Bob said, "Muscular guys attract trouble."

I don't share Bob's obsessions, but these photos are gorgeous. Many of them are beyond gorgeous, seeming almost psychedelically saturated with color. Too bad the cover doesn't truly represent the work inside, which is hardly concerned with such phallic substitutions as guns. This book is all anus, phallus, and anus some more. It's a sumptuous revelation of Bob Mizer's technical skill and trashy tastes.