A naked thinking heart, that makes no show,
Is to a woman, but a kinde of Ghost
--John Donne, The Blossome
Too obvious? My original plan was to depict the naked thinking heart groping a lascivious pot-thrower, but this scenario proved complicated, and after a few abortive attempts I gave up and just let the heart stand next to a blobby sex sculpture, out of which he has presumably torn hunks to smear on himself. Like many people, when I hear "naked," I think "corkscrew pig penis," so I tried to reflect that in the naked heart's anatomy--not to mention his private thoughts, which obsess themselves with the desire to disappear Whoopi Goldberg down a pork vortex. A Porktex, if you will.
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