Editor's note: Oops, we did it again, y'all — we painted a bunch of super-hot butts, this time in the spirit of this hot-ass summer! ☀️🍑💦 And now, to give you a little insight into how one actually paints a posterior, we'll hear from one of the ass artists himself:
“Let each butt tell you what it wants.”
These words, an echo from another time, came into my mind as I entered the compact but well-landscaped Brooklyn backyard that would become our shooting location for Summer Butts. In a neighborhood that literally birthed scroungy, tattooed hipster culture, this yard stood out as extremely tidy in an almost suburban way. It would be the perfect backdrop for our ode to all things summer-sexy.
As the sun climbed higher, the other BuzzFeed artists and I set up our workstation on the picnic table, laying out a towel, body paints, lining pencils, dishes of water and baby oil to thin the paints, lots of paper towels, Q-tips, and a wide assortment of brushes just as Chantel had instructed us to do.
We met Chantel when we did our first painted butts post. She is a senior artist at MAC Cosmetics with years and years of experience painting masterpieces on some of the most ogled bodies in the world and had come to help our small group of artists turn our Easter Butt vision into reality. She taught us a lot that day but perhaps her greatest lesson came when we were standing across from the first set of beautiful bare-assed men and she calmly said, “Let each butt tell you what it wants.”
It was so completely zen that it immediately relieved any trepidation. She was like some wise butt whisperer and we felt calmer having her by our side. We stopped giggling and got to work. As we did we realized the truth in her words. Each butt, beautiful in its own way, was a completely different canvas. Some were smooth, some were not. Some were full, others more compact. We couldn’t just paint whatever and however we wanted to. Each one had to be approached with respect and deference.
As our models arrived for this summer-obsessed version, each one more gorgeous and good-spirited than the last, I felt butterflies in my stomach again. Then as they stripped down and took their places in front of us, presenting their perfectly round hams for painting, the butterflies turned into Chinook helicopters.
I checked my watch and wondered, “Is it this hot already?” My brush hand was shaking and I felt a single drop of sweat trickle down the middle of my back.
Then Chantel’s voice came through the buzz.
I took one more sip of my iced coffee, exhaled, looked straight ahead at the glorious man butt before me, and let it tell me what it wanted.