Erika Lust has spent two decades defying assumptions about what porn can be. The Barcelona-based filmmaker and studio head has built a global reputation on a simple premise: that sex onscreen should feel human, ethical and emotionally resonant.
In person, she’s exactly what her films suggest: warm, incisive, tireless and intensely curious. She’s the kind of conversationalist who toggles effortlessly between theory and practice. She lights up at the chance to talk about her craft — and about what receiving the Vanguard Award at the 2025 Euro XMAs meant to her.
“Who doesn’t have that part of themselves that absolutely loves to be recognized?” she laughs. “I am very proud of my work — but there are many people who are a part of this brand, and we do it together. There are so many creative people, and performers who have been in my films and bring so much passion and energy.”
She smiles, summing it up simply: “There’s a village behind me.”
Learning to Take Up Space
Lust’s path to filmmaking zigzagged unpredictably.
“I was a political science student,” she begins. “When I was in my 20s, I was very interested in sexuality and trying to understand who I was, where I came from, why the world was so heteronormative and what other options were out there. I was also very into film, but I never thought I would actually be able to work in film.”
That uncertainty may have stemmed in part from a specific cultural pull she felt while growing up.
“In Sweden, we have something called the ‘Law of Jante,’ where you’re not supposed to think you’re important or better than anyone else,” Lust explains. “It’s a little bit scary to grow up with big dreams while society is telling you to stay put, not to be too much, not to want too much, not to be too loud or take up too much space.”
Soon, however, her studies began to crack open vocabulary for things she already felt.
“I took a lot of courses in gender theory, and discovered many writers who had thought about filmmaking and feminism, like Laura Mulvey with the ‘male gaze’ theory,” she recalls.
A pivotal discovery followed: a book called “Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the ‘Frenzy of the Visible,’” by UC Berkeley professor Linda Williams.
“She was one of the first film professors who treated pornography as a serious genre to study and talked about the impact it has on society,” Lust notes. “She said that porn is actually a discourse about our society, and how we understand sexuality, masculinity and femininity, and how we interact with each other in sex.
“I had the chance to meet her twice and she got to see my work,” she adds. “She told me she really liked it!”
Williams’ work in turn led Lust to director Candida Royalle, whose films opened up a whole new world for her.
“Suddenly I saw women who had proper desires and agency, and they were in the game to take care of their own sexuality,” she marvels. “That had a huge impact on me.”
From there, a clear creative mandate emerged that would shape her path going forward: Show sex as women actually experience it, and tell stories that honor agency.
“I think it’s important for women to see other women in a sexual practice touching themselves and stimulating their own clitorises,” Lust says. “Because what I see still today is four minutes of hard vaginal penetration while the woman is screaming in pleasure. I look at them with my sarcastic crazy face saying, ‘I don’t really think that happened this way!’ We need to change how porn represents pleasure.”
A Different Kind of Pornography
“My porn is not for everyone,” Lust admits. “It’s for people that appreciate something with a little bit more passion, and cinematic aspects to the craft.
She focuses her feminist lens on performers of all genders and resists unrealistic stereotypes. She demands that scenes reflect “a realistic, relatable experience of sex,” rejecting narrow definitions of sex and assumptions about what acts should be centered.
“I don’t need penis owners to ejaculate in every scene,” she declares. “If it’s something that comes naturally, then why not? But if it’s not, I don’t need it to be part of the sexual act. There are many sexual activities we can do that have nothing to do with penetrative sex.
“We don’t need erect penises all the time,” she continues. “I want men to work with their hands, their mouths and their tongues. I want them to be present and construct that intimacy with their co-performers.”
Lust is equally resolute about changing things up behind the scenes, via stronger consent practices, chemistry-based pairing and shared industry standards akin to a performers’ bill of rights.
“Our subscribers are people who want to support the industry,” she says. “They believe that sex work is work and people should be paid for it.”
In her view, this mirrors a broader pattern playing out across consumer culture.
“I think it’s interesting that we have this ‘responsible consumer’ trend coming into porn,” she muses. “We’ve seen it in the food, fashion and even furniture industries for quite some time now, so I really want people to think about it when it comes to their sexual experiences too.”
Sparking conversation is central to that work, so Lust regularly hosts an event called the “Lust Salon,” where people can watch, discuss and demystify adult content. She hopes to bring the event to U.S. venues in December.
“It’s so important to gather in real spaces to talk about sex and show people a different kind of pornography,” she says.
Asked to name a favorite film she’s worked on, she points to a longer-format project that is close to her heart: “Safe Word,” which stars Mona Wales, Mickey Mod, Julia Roca and Nina Hartley, and debuted during the COVID-19 pandemic.
“You follow the main character, played by Mona Wales, through her adventures in learning more about BDSM,” she explains. “Then there’s this incredible session where she meets Nina Hartley. It’s obviously sexual, but so psychologically charged!”
Telling the Truth
In a world where sex and gender are frequently weaponized for political gain, Lust is steadfast about the basic thesis underlying her work and beliefs: “We have the right to our sexuality.”
Beyond her own creative and professional sphere, however, she still encounters plenty of stigma and negative assumptions.
“My mother never liked me working in this industry and didn’t talk to me for a while,” she shares. “I’ve tried to rent offices for our company and gotten hard nos from property owners saying, ‘I don’t want your kind of company in my building. I still have problems with banks that don’t want us as clients.
“That tells you a lot about where we still are today,” she adds wryly.
At home, Lust chose transparency from the start.
“I never lied to my children about what I do,” she says. “When it comes to sexuality, education has always been important.”
Her positive and open-minded approach to issues of gender and sexuality came into sharp focus this past summer, when her oldest child turned 18.
“He has been going through the process of transitioning,” Lust reveals. “It felt so fantastic the other day when he thanked us, his parents, for being with him during this period. He sees other trans kids struggle because they don’t have the support of their parents.”
The Medium and the Message
Despite her public-facing persona and active lifestyle, Lust considers herself to be somewhat of an introvert.
“I’m a filmmaker, someone who loves creating fantasies,” she reflects. “Sometimes I wish I could be more like my performers and live a bit more in my body, but instead I live more in my head.”
She balances that tendency by spending as much time as she can outdoors.
“I like skiing in the winter and I love sailing in the summer,” she enthuses. “I have two dogs, and we live very close to a big natural park so we go outside a lot. And since I’m Swedish, I love cold water and skinny-dip year-round.”
Lust never stops creating for very long, however. Most recently, she has begun expanding into museums and onto bookshelves.
Last year in Barcelona, she opened “House of Erika Lust,” an immersive exhibition featuring three different levels, including what she describes as “a very cool digital art museum” set up with VR, and a giant room where her films played on all four walls and even the floor.
She’s also drafting a book: a “sexual politics memoir” slated to come out in 2026.
Whether her work is on display in theaters, salons or galleries, however, Lust’s mission doesn’t change. She wants to make better films, build safer sets and invite audiences into a more honest conversation about desire. For her, it’s not provocation for provocation’s sake, but a kind of “cultural hygiene.”
“There are two things the human race needs to survive,” she says simply. “Food and sex. Otherwise, we will die out. We are all here because of sex. So why are we not respecting this?”
