sun.ninth.june.2019 I started writing this post late last night and I'm kind of compelled to complete it. It's incomplete. It's Sunday, so I'm going to edit it throughout today. It's now 14:37 and I've decided I'm turning this post into a playlist. Play this This is a Patrick Wolf song I love. He might pretend otherwise but he is doing a very serious Cloud cosplay here. If he dressed like this all the time I'd probably be following him on instagram and day dreaming about dating him and Lisa (the Jpopstar) and Owen Pallett. He doesn't though. Rude.
thats a line pregnant women get, not body hair. i naght pregnat. i do get body hairs but those shadow line are naght body hairs, okay
The caption is pretty sad. It used to be very fashionable to deprecate yourself – for awhile the internet was populated by introverted girls that liked to express themselves and explore visual fantasies through both getting naked and playing dress up and gallivanting as models, rockstars and internet personalities. It became really important to make sure that everyone knew that you didn’t look exactly like photographs of you (especially if your thing was being a transvestite popstar) that had been taken after three hours of playing with make up and grabbing every lamp in the house and then masking taping up some tinfoil as a reflector before photoshopping yourself into some fantastic anime.
I feel as though if I deprecate myself I will encourage you to think that I am not unaware that I am flawed. I don’t even know if I like doing that. I feel like it’s okay to make the art I always wanted to make if I do that preemptively. Or maybe it’s me guilt tripping you.
If you see a nice photograph of me, either I’ve taken it or I made a tremendous amount of effort to look nice. I don’t look like nice all the time. I don’t often enjoy bad photos of me unless they are capturing some kind of expression or emotion that better helps me express my inner landscape. Sometimes I like bad photographs of me a lot.
I’ve never made money from being in photos, I’ve never had a fanbase to speak of. Actually that is a lie. The issue was I DID have a fanbase and I considered them all friends with lives as interesting as mine.
I took some self portraits that I like a lot.
look. if I photograph erotica or what I consider to be erotica, it’s a performance. unless it isn’t. and it has never not been a performance. It’s why I went to University. But there was a lot of stuff I had to learn at University before I started asking people to get naked in front of a camera to stimulate the love/sex act. i feel safer photographing myself right now. i definitely believe it is important to divulge that what might (or might not, I might not be your type) convey some invitation to think about sex is actually a complete indifference on my part. i think that based on what I learned about the adult industry I know that it is preferred that a person capturing that stuff isn’t really aroused by it.
the women you see appearing in the porn on redtube and pornhub probably didn’t enjoy filming it all that much. Condensed: I seldom sexualise the human body and the likelihood of sexualising someone else having sex is even more seldom but I love to observe it with the very same feeling and very same passion I might I love to observe people making cakes surrounded by the perfect decor.
I like classical art, particularly religious iconography – that depicts what i consider unsexual nudity. I am like the grandmother that you’d sooner shoot yourself in the penis than ever mention sex in front of if you don’t get through the first two or three stages of trust-building with me, I could walk in on you watching a sex scene in a film and admire the way the light hit the upholstery. interior cinematics should be a degree of it’s own in an economy that will soon be structured based on people restructuring the architecture of their lives. i say soon – i mean. the next thirty years and the only things my generation will want will be couture and houses.
The image above is a scan I took of a postcard I bought from a charity shoppe in Farnham. It's a painting that decorates the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
but i am not uncomfortable in the knowledge of the male gaze. not irresponsible with it either.
A Jewish lecturer who I believe has rediscovered faith entirely – with fresh perspective – from what I think he and I could at least as academic equals would agree was inescapable proof of the extraordinary – and that the navigation of non-physical requires a person to stick to any and every holy law they’ve ever been taught in their life, once asked me if I knew about the ‘male gaze’.
At the time I understood the male gaze was the tendency men have to sexualise objects that emulate genitals and sexual organs and replied “I don’t care.” Well. We left that brief chat with two very different understandings towards the exchange. (We realised a bit later)
Throughout forever, and ironically this didn’t come across, was that I liked to be all sorts of versions of me. I compensated with the idea of not being an actor even though that’s all I had ever really worked towards growing up by deciding that when I got a job one day I could either design or buy the kind of clothes I thought I should really be wearing. I would be able to pay to write and direct the kinds of cartoons I’d like to watch. That I could direct my own vision for what sex between men and women who love each other could be like, because pornography certainly didn’t reflect that at the time and nor does it now.
i want you to understand that when i photograph myself: i’m not like. oh i feel like fucking someone, theres no one around, im gonna photograph the hell out of my ass and masturbate while I think about fucking myself. this is not an explanation, actually there is a version of me in time and space that would upload a photograph of me expressing some kind of emotion and then a sentence or two passive aggressively attacking an ex boyfriend.
Ok so before you scroll down - I want to create a multi-sensory experience. I wrote in my 'about me' that this is my art blog. Please try to engage with this blog as an art-installation for this song. I learned about Laibach when I used to visit Camden on Saturdays at about thirteen years old. I'd walk through all the goth shops and very rarely ever bought anything because I would spend my money on the street food. and Alcohol. Which I'd drink on the streets and beside the canal. One time I walked into a shop not far off Cyber Dog and there was this sexy goth (look - all the camden kids fancied the grown ups that worked in the shops. We had absolutely no idea that we were that far out of their age bracket and I assure you that atleast where sexy effeminate goths were concerned - it was 100% consensual if foolish rape is never consensual . I was rarely taken by music, my tastes were so specific that until now there are that few albums that I can say I enjoy in any kind of entirety. (If you're curious: A Perfect Circle 13th Step, I can listen to throughout.)
Professor Germaine Greer sometimes speaks about some of her audience-intended erotic endeavours, there are plenty of videos on youtube where she briefly mentions her escapades as an editor for an “indie” (but not indie at all) adult publication that publicised all sorts of cave man/animal fantasies apparently (I tried finding a copy online but I faile) and I think that contrast was what made her so popular with the boyz that she clearly pursued when she was studying. (I will never not regard her debate at Oxford as a formal introduction to the United Kingdoms most eligible bachelors)
She had her own publication – a magazine that had pseudo-sordid images of all sorts of today-taboo erotic fantasies that all-people have, but keep secret. Imagine, for a second, the power you might associate subconsciously with a woman who was so undisturbed by the most fucking awful depths of the human sexuality that was also a staunch women’s activist in a time when men were legally allowed to rape their wives, who authored many journals that planted seeds for a direction through which women’s liberation could grow so that we could better achieve an acceptable equality with our co-genders.
Her literature is forever my enabler in making any kind of “erotic” art. “Erotic” art is my favourite kind of art but I actually sourced a lot of personal guilt for that for a long time, because my fascination with art of that nature encouraged men to objectify the female body and idealise sex that they’d observed without considering that it was captured from a performative perspective.
which could lived within the confines of a domestic pig barn intended architecturally to host miniatures of dystopian male and female forms and to eventually grow up to be carbon copies of their parents
I’ve always been somewhat considerate towards how feminists might regard my
As far as my contribution towards any kind of feminist research goes.. the adult industry is the only industry that begins to compensate women or otherwise perhaps the first media-form to really portray women in positions of power over men in a way that wasn’t intended to portray the idea as some kind of social threat or narrative-propaganda. But yes – Germaine was once invited to pose for Playboy magazine and she offered to do so for free. Knowing about the male gaze she chose to be photographed in various spreads – which was socially unacceptable at the time and it was considered unacceptable for publication. Prof. Germaine’s social peers were oxbridge boys and gals at the time and if I were told that one of those oxbridge boys had made a phonecall to stop the photographs from being published as some kind of secret act of love, she’d probably roll her eyes. I’d smile because it’s sweet that someone can be so entitled, but it is also wrong.
Someone once said that it would be wrong if everyone in this country were to seek further education (thats how we describe getting a bachelors degree. your first three years of university do not count as university, they count as acclimating to the real – world while trying to make sense of how you can contribute to it while also trying to discover the identity you kept hidden from the people you grew up with. in my experience, atleast.)
Did you know I learned about Germaine Greer through this? If you go thirtine seconds in Adrian Mole’s mother sort of offers my childself a testimonial for a book that would truly change my entire life.
(I am being Bert right now. If you watch. My life is Bert. I have no one to talk about it online with and I miss instant messaging so that I could tell my fake friends “I am Bert” and then we’d watch Adrian Mole together. But that’s not an internet reality anymore. The internets personal karmic narrative is not great right now. I’m really excited for the next big internet phase, and the next big internet phase AFTER the approaching one will be when people will begin to structure their homes to accommodate virtual reality.
My generation of weird and terribly attired london street kids made it okay to get body modifications. The kids that had scarification (the sterile kind you get in a piercers shoppe and also the kind you inflicted upon yourself in a rage or an episode of teenage heartbreak or depression or abuse or whatever misery we were all living), screws cut into their heads that would enable them to attach (and remove) little horns, their belly buttons closed up as a symbol of detachment to the “mother” and one’s own conception, competed the way that men do in pub banter by getting their bodies pierced (a cosmetic pain ritual that indicated some passing of age between us that is not too dissimilar to the practices of some African tribes actually.)
If I was born with two genders and I had my penis removed it is a freedom of it’s own, I promise
i mean. at this point in my life, unless you are someone i consider a teacher or angelina jolie the goddess her fucking self, i do not want a pep talk
before i went to uni my spiritual teacher lisa gave me a book that taught me this: “don’t steal”. it discussed stealing. stealing actually has many faces and not all of them are evil. i would never consider a person stealing a loaf of bread to feed their starving family “stealing”, but it is. Would I think it right to punish the person who had stolen that loaf of bread in the same way I would punish a person who had stolen my autonomy, because they had decided that my blog posts were secretly directed towards them and that I had been inviting them to have sex with me by posting photographs of my body on the internet? No. Here’s another example of “nice stealing”: if you go to work – and you’re ill, it’s bad karma. Society might encourage you to think that it’s selfish not to go to work – just because you have a the ‘man flu’, but in terms of the spiritual principles that are being expressed through laws like “THOU SHALT NOT STEAL” (it appears in most religious ideologies – the idea that taking that which you know isn’t yours to take is wrong. If you make someone else ill, you are stealing time from their life. If you went out with your common cold and gave the cold to a diabetic, they could be bed ridden for weeks because it takes diabetic people a longer time to heal. You pay karmically for that. Karma is not something people can quantify or determine and should avoid it. Just keep an eye on your own. Invading someone’s privacy is bad karma.
Imagine believing that this Planet is Hell and that I’m here for lying – about a disability. It’s a nice kind of lying, cos you don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to talk about it – but it’s still lying. If someone says “how are you?” and you respond with “i’m fine” when you are not “fine” it’s still lying. And that if i’d of spoken about my issue, lots of people would’ve been receiving benefits because they literally couldn’t work but were being called lazy?
The bible says ‘sinful’ but what we can accept empirically so far is – if you steal that guys livelihood, he’s going to suffer for it, and he has never done anything to you that could make him deserve for you to do that.
Last night I was so stoned I enjoyed Nickelback. I feel like if I joined one of those secret societies where the lower tier frat brothers like to black mail one another by 'safe keeping' humiliating secrets - that that would be the thing that they used against me. So if I put it here, if I write about it here, it's confessed. It's in the open. Do I like Nickelback? I did once.