I think from now on I shall only buy tights from AKATAKO
I found the site while I was lurking Trevor Brown…
This is a piece by Trevor Brown
When I was younger I used social media sites like “vampirefreaks” – and a lot of kids used to express themselves using really extreme art that depicted mature themes like BDSM, self mutilation and sort of glorified death and abuse. I can’t really speak for all of those kids but I know that when I see a piece of art like that I can recall a pretty bizarre memory – a lot of bizarre memories – that revolve around my personal experience of child sexuality. I think back and I’m aware that they were ultimately strange sexual childhood experiences that I wouldn’t want to live again but also I think that through those experiences I developed an emotional intelligence that I’ve yet to find in anyone else. (I can’t speak for the children I had those experiences with, I can only speak about myself.)
Interestingly there were times in my life where I was “abused” by children, there were times that I engaged in weird sex acts that I’d later find abusive, and fully consensually – and there were times where I was a little abusive actually. I’m pretty grateful that I experienced all of that contrast in my childhood – being both the victim and the abuser – because it built up a strength in me that meant that when people who had been abused in turn abused me, I was able to laugh it off. It pissed a lot of people off – that I did that. But it later taught them to laugh.
A girl I used to talk to raped me in astral once with a sex toy – she wanted to penetrate me with it and I said no – she did anyway – and I woke up in a puddle, in bed. It wasn’t urine, it was see through. I can do that. It’s not the same as an orgasm but you can orgasm at the same time if someone hits the right spot, and she did. I wrote about it on a sex blog I had (which was really just a make-you-jealous project and apparently it was pretty successful) quite poetically but there really isn’t anything poetic about sex. (This is something it’s probably better to discuss another time) Anyway – she was about sixteen or so years old at the time and I was, I think, eighteen. I have no idea if she was conscious of the fact that she had done that, and if so I’d think that was a brilliant talent. It takes people a long time to control their dreamscape. Years later a girl did that to her physically – and when she told me about it I wasn’t all that sympathetic. It wasn’t because I didn’t empathise. I do believe in walking away from negative experiences having learned something about yourself. I know that I was raped in the psychiatric ward – can I prove it? No. I know that I called the police when the nurses tried to give me sedatives the following evening and that the police laughed before I had a chance to explain what had happened or who I was, or why I was calling.
For me – weird art is great because it gives you a chance to see beauty in something.
This is me wearing tights that give the illusion of bondage. I am not interested in bondage. I would never willingly let someone tie me up. I like that there is a capacity for gruesome in the human experience – there’s an author called Anais Nin who was really important in the development of people understanding that women have a sexuality and in her books she touches on a lot of themes that people are very frightened of – including incest and pedophilia.
We all have lessons to learn and in our actions towards ourselves and others, we pick them. A lot of spiritually inclined people and people who are interested in psychiatry and psychology know of the concept of having an “inner child” – I used to meditate and see myself sleeping while a version of myself that looked like an infant would get really angry, trying to wake me up.
I later realised that infant wasn’t my childself but some child from the future. She’s not a nice person – nor does she pretend to be (a lot of people do that) – but she has excellent manners and is better dressed than you are.
Her aspirations involve becoming a mercenary. Or an executioner.
And you wonder “how does a person like that happen” – well, through watching my memories. The way you all watch my life (if I could watch your lives I probably wouldn’t – it’s bad manners – and also how fucking boring are your lives!?!?!)
I used to see her walking through dark trenches, across minefields to this song in my old school uniform
Anyway. This post will make sense later. I’m obsessed with Trevor Brown. I was like “WAIT, a BLACK guy is doing these paintings? And he’s… SUPER CAMP?!” And actually that is what I find most attractive in people – he creates brave work that manages to combine that which we see innocence in and that which terrifies us – and it’s beautiful to me because of his use of colour, and perhaps because of the style of illustration that speaks to me as a person who… at about three years old walked into her brothers dark and empty room with the television on – and a rather static scene of Vampire Hunter D with two scary women with fangs, making out with a guy – and it was really frightening and like, I recall feeling sexual energy watching it.
We’ve all been children and some of us choose to follow the script humanity has set out for us and “grow up” – I have no idea what those kids that used to use vampirefreaks are upto nowadays. I have no idea if they’ve all rejected their “weird” and “colourful” clothes with bizarre silhouettes that was essentially the most interesting development in fashion since like, the sixties and seventies – I have no idea how people could’ve made fun of people that chose to wear clothes like that, who felt comfortable looking weird even though society bullied them for it (people literally got beaten up for how they chose to dress) when in reality … those are the kids directly responsible for all of the instagrammers who have managed to take the kind of make up that drag queens wear an appropriated it into something that’s been normal all along. People pencil in their eyebrows and get them “microbladed” (TATTOOED) on and don’t really connect that to people like Manson, who used to shave his eyebrows off – or cybergoths who used to shave their eyebrows off and draw them on. That used to really, really frighten people. Like.. you can take the piss of people who study fashion all you want – but it’s through art and fashion and music that society is influenced the most. And that is why musical artists are so often considered Illuminati. And I have to stress this – even for those artists – especially for those artists – it’s influence that gives power.
Think – the girl in the red dress, in the matrix. Neo really isn’t drawn to her because she’s pretty – it’s because there’s this woman in a colour that is subconsciously rather frightening walking through a sea of wage slaves that all look the same.
(irrelevant but I’ve just realised that I think one of my biggest crushes of all time who I bounce from despising and not despising by like, LITERALLY the second – just had a really pretty name. and if i could go back in time to when Shakespeare was writing “whats in a name?” I’d say “A LOT. WILLIAM. A LOT. THAT IS A STUPID QUESTION.)
(I mean, imagine if Juliet’s name had been “Gunta”?) (When you hear a name – you picture something, you feel something – that is vibration. Like, think of all the words for vagina – I imagine a person who called it a “love muffin” would have a lot more success sticking their stuff in it than a person who called it a “hole”) (By the way – to that “boyfriend” a psychiatric nurse who called my vagina a “hole” – having done a creepy amount of research into my musical tastes – “hole” is a reference, to the experience of borderline personality disorder – and the front woman is the daughter of a pretty eminent psychiatrist.) (along that vein – I used to put “hole” “tool” and “a perfect circle” as my favourite musicians… “tool” is, at this point in my life – an ironic reference to 1D where people see in everything some kind of sexual innuendo and “a perfect circle” is a reference to cyclical behaviour, yin and yang etc) (I feel your embarrassment, and that was what was great about dating someone ‘schizoid’, by the way – I told you I’m into “strategy gaming”)
(My dad originally wanted to call me “Fatima” and my mother noed that, hard.) (At my worst moments I used to think “god never saved me or answered my prayers” but actually that was a tremendous save on god’s part, so, thanks)
And I guess some fantastic person should and could write some essay on how people like Marilyn Manson, who were avid fans of “body modification” were considered so frightening when.. without artists like him and Johnathan Davis who influenced kids to comfortably not-dress like everyone else on their road – Kim Kardashian (I love her, really) couldn’t get away with her silver hair, stripper heels and the kind of outfits that her lawyer father would’ve probably had some kind of stroke/heart attack if he saw that she’d been photographed wearing in public.
I mean, do you think Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian could’ve gotten away with their porn movie notoriety if it wasn’t for SuicideGirls? The essence of SuicideGirls was to take girls that didn’t fit into the given mould of beauty of the time – so – you know – you can thank them for the fact that everyone thinks tattoos are boring and normal. People got beaten up for those too.
But yes, for me – the notion of that subtle (or not so subtle) contrast of being something quietly scary and also quietly nice is what attracts me to anything. And “attraction” is very rarely – for someone like me – anything to do with sex. Even if it depicts nudity. My spiritual teacher joked that I’m the kind of person who could have a painting of a naked woman above my bed, although I’m not really sexually interested in women. And that’s probably not because I don’t find women attractive – I could list sooo many women I’ve found attractive – and then I think “okay why did I find them attractive” and it was usually directly related to some kind of talent through which they expressed themselves. I had a huge crush on Cate Blanchett when I was eleven or twelve because I thought she was an incredible actress. I had a crush on my first real boyfriend because he was hilarious – and I maintain he’d be this generations best comedian if he’d put himself out there. He once told me that when he was little, he masturbated into a creme egg box – and I could tell you that verbally and you’d probably stare and think “he sounds weird” but if he told you – he’d deliver the story so perfectly that you’d find it hilarious. One of his first sexual experiences was with twins… in Ireland. I think he threw up afterwards.
We all have different ways of expressing our personal stories – including trauma. My ex could – like some modern Eddie Murphy – stand on a stage and really just talk to the audience as if he were talking to a psychiatrist – and they would be rolling on the floor laughing. He could tell you some of the most fucked up stories you have ever, ever heard and you’d still find them funny. One time he told me that he was sexually molested (I started laughing as I wrote that) and he was near tears. And I still laughed. And then he later laughed.
I needed that laughter a lot in my life. Laughter got me through stuff. I remember once that my sister, drug addicted and violently inclined brother, mother and I were in a one room flat when we had to leave Dubai because the secret police were planning on putting him in Prison (and as we’re arabs – he’d have been in there for a LONG time – over literally a joint) – and I used to cry because I really wanted a sibling. My brother and sister were a lot older than me and my mother was sleeping all the time – that meant I spent a lot of time alone. My brother said (again, it’s delivery and I’m terrible at it) “Karina we’d have to start writing our names on our toilet paper.”
It’s weird – y’know that “joker” character – by Marvel – if I directed a Batman it’d probably be played by a woman. Really. A really sweet woman who was so desensitised to terrifying things that she genuinely found them hilarious.
My mother used to watch that program about Bam Margera with me and she’d really empathise with Bam – like he’d roll off roofs and do all sorts of crazy and dangerous and reckless stuff that could’ve killed him – and she genuinely pitied his mother because my brother was that kid. He was kicked out of school after school.
When I was ass raped by doctors, (really it was just a very painful and brutally given enema – but I mean for some reason it took four nurses to hold me down and pull my pants down and it was fully rape, even if it was a necessary medical procedure), then I had liquishits in a dark toilet (I was scared of the dark) and then I recall sitting on the floor of the car as my parents drove me back home and I had one request – and that was “don’t tell anyone.” the moment I got home my brother started laughing and asking if I’d had an injection in my bottom. Then all our relatives would really subtly try to get me to talk about it – not really understanding that kids know whats going on, they just don’t have the vocabulary to say so. And that pissed me off more. And then I’d get called “grumpy” and stuff. Damn right I was grumpy. But yeah, fast forward a million years and that created the kind of person who could be bullied by a whole room of people – a whole world really – and still kind of eventually come out making them look stupid.
When I try to be funny – I’m not. When I am deadly-serious is when I am really funny. I tried making a sincere video once – where I said “existing is really hard” and my sister watched it and burst out laughing and it was actually quite nice to realise the comedy in that tragedy. I literally had the most ground breaking spiritual awakening that changed the lives of MILLIONS of people – and no one’s really said “sorry” or “thanks for changing my life” – although Kanye did release a song that includes the words “nothing hurts anymore” and that is the most beautiful. Kanye, my brother and Tupac share the “Omari” vibration in their names. It’d be nice to be able to say something funny to describe my terrible experiences – but that doesn’t work for me. Like I said – I once walked out of an abortion and had to sit on a park bench to take a break because I was in pain and tired and bleeding and watch two year olds playing fucking football (WHO THE FUCK RAISES THEIR KIDS TO PLAY FOOTBALL? THAT IS LIKE PREPARING THE NEXT GENERATION OF RAPISTS?! WHY ARE THESE WOMEN BETTER PARENTS THAN I WOULD’VE BEEN!??!) and I tweeted – trying to make light of what would’ve probably triggered most women who had been through the same trauma (like, I had an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic – I fell into sleep literally thinking i wasn’t going to wake up – burning) into some kind of massive depression that lasted for many years “watching two year olds play football #pedobear” and I ended up being called a fucking pedophile.
So yes – we pick art that speaks to our personal experiences. Trevor Brown, for me, does that – sort of – he paints pictures that would be kind of terrifying if you saw them in the first half an hour of a movie M.Night Shyamalan had directed (I have never forgiven him for what he did to Adrien Brody)
And that is basically the story of my life.
One time I conquered a fear of heights by falling down a vertical slide. I sat on the edge of the slide and a morbidly obese girl sat on my hand and did something to it. I didn’t tell my dad or my sister what happened because I was terrified of doctors.
We were sitting at a dinner table and I picked up a spoon and it was so painful I started crying. Then we had to go to the doctor. I started crying. Then I stopped. The doctor took out a pair of scissors and I started crying again – then he explained it was only to cut the bandage strips. (Years later they went ahead and full on roofy-raped me and it wasn’t my brother laughing at me – it was the police. And I didn’t really respond. I kind of just accepted the state of human men.)
My brother is kind of the best person walking on this Planet at this point in time and was a better parent to me in the limited time we spent together than either of my parents ever managed to be.
So yes. Here is a really effeminate yet also physically intimidating black guy who speaks with such perfect white-girl-problems sensitivity about fucked up art, that if you typed it up and gave it to an American girl with a “valley girl” accent she’d probably be destroyed socially and have to live the rest of her life as some kind of recluse.
And while I’m 50% certain he’s gay (I’m being diplomatically correct because the truth is that I categorically refuse to believe he would EVER sleep with a woman) I am also very attracted to him and wish he’d date Marlon Brown. Sorry, I meant Marlon James.