Help me decide!

So this is a relatively minor thing in the grand scheme of things. However, after attending the funeral of a dear man, I am feeling the need for frivolity. Shoes.



I have a credit at Nordstrom's that I keep forgetting to use. So I'm shopping on line and I am stuck. I have narrowed it down to 3 choices:

Miz Mooz 'Tillman' Pump

Steve Madden 'Troopa' Boot  

Steve Madden 'Hottness' Pump

I do need a basic pair of boots that are simple, easy to get on and not fetishy. I don't need another pair of heels, but I do want those pumps as they are super sexy. Your votes and comments are appreciated.

 

Catharsis - Part 2

If you have a stomach for blood, check out Jim Duvall's photos of me with lots of blood in a bath tub. If you don't, they are a series of photos of me "using" a straight razor to cut my wrist, covering myself with blood and masturbating. (Good lord, I just wrote that, didn't I?)

There has been a lot of fussing and arguing and discussion about these photos. It has been wonderful seeing so many people talking about art that I helped make. The most fascinating part has been reading all the the motivations that have been assigned to the creators. I thought I would share my story behind my involvement in these photos and my part of the collaborative process.

I've been squeamish about blood, needles, hooks and cuttings ever since I found out people did that in their BDSM play. For being the kid who used to pick my scabs so I could suck the blood, and the menstruating woman who had no qualms about getting messy, it seems strange upon contemplation. I spent some time recently trying to figure out how blood play came to be something I was squicked by.

When I was 17, Planned Parenthood implemented HIV screening.  The receptionist really pushed me to check the boxes of risk factors I wasn't sure of, because "it's better to just say yes if you aren't 100% sure the answer is no." So, I had had blood drawn for the first time in my life to test me for a really scary disease no one knew a whole lot about except that it killed you. When you are nervous because something is new and scared this new thing will uncover terrible information, one is understandably going to make some associations. The nurse took two very small (5cc's or less) vials of blood and I exclaimed in panic "You're taking too much!"

Another correlation is that I had a hysterectomy before I got involved in the public BDSM scene so my relationship to blood had changed by the fact that I could no longer bleed for 5 days and survive. My opinion for the last 8 years has been that my blood should stay inside of me.

I've been poking at this fear of blood play a bit since I began dating Jim, mostly because he gets off on fear and I figure this is something I can give him that won't be psychologically damaging for me. I have  done needle play with him a handful of times. Literally, five times. I have done a hook pull. A dear friend who is fond of medical staples has had a go at me twice. Mind you, this is over a 5 year period. I was slowly edging into doing more with fantasies bubbling up of more intense blood related scenes. Mostly keeping them as fantasies.

And then I saw a scene that made it possible for me to grok bloodlust. I was out at Paradise and the lovely Lorelei and a play partner of her's set up in the middle of the field, him braced against a stone pillar and her dressed all in white, including stylish white sunglasses as eye protection. She began the scene using a chainmail flogger to "bring the blood to the surface" and just as it started to break his skin, she switched to piercing him with largish gauge needles. Now, he had done a bit of research and determined how he could decrease the clotting factors in his blood for the express purpose of having a bloodier scene. When Lorelei pulled the needles out of his back, the blood streamed down. She resumed flogging him and on every back swing, that chainmail flogger left more blood on her white outfit. The splattering was quite artful. Every few strokes, she would pause a moment, sometimes even pressing into him, making bloody marks on the front of her hips and breasts where she had hugged him.

I really understood the concept of blood lust watching that scene. The blood pouring out of those piercings was so full of life. The rich red colour was astoundingly beautiful. Passionate is the word that keeps coming to mind. The life force represented by his blood and the way she reveled in it was mesmerizing.

Yeah, I wanted to feel that direct connection with life force.

So, I boldly asked a friend if she would want to do some blood play with me, perhaps in the context of a photo shoot. If something is for art, it's always easier for me. She and Jim started talking about using his claw foot tub as the centerpiece. A date was set for her to draw my blood and the rest is history.

Now, I have had very little experience with suicide so it's not as an emotionally charged subject for me as it is for others. While I did do a tiny bit of cutting as a teenager, it wasn't something that I did with regularity or sincerity. For me, being in that bath tub with my own blood sprayed all over me, it was all about reveling in that life force. I was covered in blood red passion. Literally, blood red. The texture of the blood was enticing and sexy. The idea that I could touch the essence of life was overwhelmingly powerful. I became giddy during the shoot an it had everything to do with playing in that taboo substance.

When we filled the tub and the blood tinged the water, my experience changed. Bathing in life giving blood is profound. I was in a primordial womb of my own making. Emerging from that bath was like birthing myself. The fear I had once had about my blood being outside of my body seemed silly, now. Having your blood outside of your body didn't have to be traumatic and dangerous. Facing one's fears does not always yield the expected results. I certainly didn't think I would be so excited to do something like that again.

This account doesn't mean that all of those other thoughts and opinions about those photos aren't valid. Not in the least. Art means whatever it means to you. There is no right answer. Yes, the artist is often trying to communicate something. And it's ok if what you see in art is different than the artist intended. Really, that can't be helped. Good art gives you a chance to see something inside of yourself. It confronts your beliefs and feelings on any given subject, sometimes in a jarring way.

Help the Seattle Erotic Art Festival change the world!

We are delighted to announce the Festival's brand new Art Activist Society.

Together we can strengthen our community, support artists across the nation and world, and change the way people think about art, sex and sexuality.

Become a Society member for an annual gift of $250 or more, and receive special benefits while supporting the Festival's mission and long-term goals.

All Society members enjoy benefits like tickets to Festival events, VIP entry and rewards, a special members-only party, discounts to workshops, and more.

Higher membership levels receive benefits like discounts on art purchases from the Festival exhibition and Store, a piece of art from the Festival's private collection, an invitation for two to observe the jury process and attend the Artist Reception before the Festival, and so much more.

Learn about our membership levels and join the Society.

Be part of bringing the Festival to life, and making our 10th anniversary the best year yet.

This is a very exciting program. One of the reasons that I am part of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival is that I want to change the way our society perceives and relates to sexuality.  Art is an incredible way to educate and illustrate that all forms of sexuality have beauty and are valid forms of expression. Please join us in this mission.

Dojo of the Five Element Rope

Date & Time:	Sunday, December 11, 2011 ·11:00 AM – 3:30 PM
Location:	Center for Sex Positive Culture - Main Space 1602 15th Ave. W. Seattle, WA 98119   @ map
Cost:	Cost: $25 each or $40 for both
Dress code:	Loose clothing that you can move easily in and a piece of 6 mm hemp or jute rope that is approximately 20' long.
	Tantra arrived in Japan in the 8th century where it began an interweaving with traditional shamanic Shinto and the sublime Taoist magic of refugees arriving from the fallen Chinese Tang Dynasty. The intermingling of these deeply complimentary magical and spiritual practices of the Far East was unique and became known as Mikkyo. Mikkyo was later adapted advantageously into the foundations of many primordial Japanese military/sword cults. One particular style of bakujo called senyojo: battlefield rope arresting techniques - became a crucial tool for the safe and secure transport of valuable captured prisoners from the battle theater. Our bakujo arrest & capture/restraint applications are explored utilizing the foundations of Mikkyo (Tantric and Taoist Magical operations) to inform and balance the psyche and spirit of the practitioner under perilous 'battlefield' conditions. The practical side of this training offers a rough & tumble approach to classical Japanese rope restraint, whereas the esoteric side affords insights phenomenally intrinsic to the power-play between operator and receiver. 11am-1pm Class 1: demonstration, history, theory, energies, etiquette (reshiki) (No limit) 1:30pm-3:30pm Class 2: hands-on instruction and practice of basic techniques (te hodoki) (Limited to 20 participants.) Bret and Eric have been practitioners of this martial art for a collective 28 years. Though there are many branches of bakujo, senyojo was the branch most focused on by the bushi (samurai). The two main categories of senyojo they do are called hayanawa (fast rope) and shin no nawa (true/real rope). The instructors will provide rope for sale that is the proper length and type for bakujo. When: December 11, 2011 Where: CSPC Main Space Time: Part 1: 11am – 1pm Part 2: 1:30pm – 3:30pm This is a FSPC event. CSPC discounts do not apply RSVP required to WorkshopRSVP@sexpositiveculture.org – limited space available in second class

CSPC Annual Board Fundraiser

Soirée des Désirs: Featuring Jeff Gord and Twisted Monk

The Center and Foundation for Sex Positive Culture are proud to present the second annual fundraiser Soirée des Désirs, featuring captivating performances by Jeff Gord and Twisted Monk.
The first half of the night features Jeff of the incomparable House of Gord, using engineering skills, ingenuity, tight bondage, intense sensation, and beautiful women to create a kinky spectacle. This year Jeff’s performance will be uncensored: there will be penetration and partial nudity.
The second half of the night features the infamous performer, rope maker and bondage expert Twisted Monk Join him as he takes his unique brand of cabaret, bondage and twisted humor to new and erotic places through multiple, gravity defying suspension acts.
You don’t want to miss this sexy fundraiser. Come enjoy:

• two performances by fascinating figures in the community
• live and silent auction featuring a variety of enticing items
• sexy servers offering tasty hors d’oeuvres
• special giveaways
• full bar
• … and more!

21 + ONLY
We have an extremely limited number of $50 VIP tickets, which include:

• reserved seating right up front
• special attention from the performers
• sexy servers offering tasty treats just for VIPs, including a delicious dessert
• certificate for half off a Foundation workshop of your choice
• and a chance to win a special prize!

The next show I am attending: Embodied

Embodied
November 9th and 10th. 2011
8pm – 10pm
FRED Wildlife Refuge
127 Boylston St
Seattle, WA 98102

Embodied is a one-woman show illustrating a musical journey, and a rare public performance including much of my original music and distinctive cover songs. It depicts the sense of the personality fragmentation in youth, and the experience of slowly piecing ones self together to truly be a whole person. There will be live music, stunning visuals, palpable energy and an aerial performance. Anyone who enjoys being moved by the dark, melancholy, and profound will love this show.

Artist, performer, director and writer: Courtnee Papastathis (also as Zita the Aerialist)
Sound Engineering, back-up: Edgars Klepers
Visuals and Lights: Courtnee Papastathis and Miked Up Productions.


Tickets are $20 at Brown Paper Tickets and at the door, space permitting.

I'll be attending the Thursday showing. Anyone else interested in going that day and want to meet up?

Catharsis - Part 1

Disclaimer: All the photos and most of the links provided below are NSFW.

Background: When I talk about being raised by wolves, I am speaking both literally** and figuratively. The popular culture connotation of the metaphor is to denote someone who doesn't behave within normal social parameters due to their childhood. My father was a drug addict and dealer most of my childhood. Needless to say, that warps how you view and interact with the world.  I didn't realize that many events in my childhood were not normal until about 5 years ago when I broke the rule of secrecy. I was continually surprised that telling stories from when I was a kid that I think are funny and quirky often elicit shocked or horrified reactions. And let's not forget how difficult it is to have love relationships with men when your father stole from, neglected, and used you as a tool to abuse others.

Recent history: My father died in August. I talked to him 3 times in the 8 months before he died after not having contact with him for 13 years due to his continued drug use. He was still using and drinking up to the very end. It's why he died. Heart, liver & kidney failure at 56 is not surprising when you have been doing drugs for 35 years. Anyway, I got want I wanted which was an apology. Even though it was a bit empty, and there were so many lies in those conversations, it was something.

So, I fell apart. The one thing in my life that had been a constant source for knowing who I am and who I didn't want to be, was suddenly gone. The grief has been acute. I vacillate between feeling bereft and furious, and occasionally, they are simultaneous. His death has altered how I view my beloved step-father in an unexpected and lovely way. I feel like I can finally call him "dad" without insulting him. It has also cause me to fear that my partners who are "daddy" to me will leave since I don't need a replacement for a living, inadequate father figure. Abandonment feels imminent because the father not only chose to do drugs than maintain a relationship with the daughter, her died and left forever truly eliminating the possibility of a relationship forever.  Therefore, the daughter must not be worthy.

I got tired of flailing in my daily life. I am sure my partners and friends were on their way to being tired of it, even if they won't say so out loud.  Art seemed like the logical answer to exorcize these demon-fears. I already had a shoot scheduled with Jim Duvall and a friend who was going to draw my blood so we could do a series of "suicide in the bathtub" photos. I asked Jim if we could do something around drug addiction at the same time. It seemed  fitting with the use of the needles for the suicide photos. (I'll talk about those photos in the next post.)

A few days before the shoot, I was inspired to take one of my little sundresses and ruin it. I soaked it in mud puddles, ripped it up and spilled some of my drawn blood on it. I was going to look as underage as possible. This was about the death of that little girl whose life had been damaged by drug abuse. It isn't a literal depiction of what my childhood was like. The photo is cathartic, not autobiographical. 15 minutes before our medical technician friend was due to arrive for the shoot, I had a meltdown, complete with crying and yelling. Once we figured out the things I was freaking out on were not even remotely what I was mad about, we chose to still do the shoot. I wanted to work with the rawness I was feeling so I could use it up and get it out of me.

This is the result of that catharsis.

Jim, who rarely titles his art, is calling this piece "Her Father's Legacy".

I started crying when he told me. It hit the center of the bullseye of all my pain.

"Why did you call it that?"

"Because that pain was all that he left you."

"He didn't have anything else to give me."

As soon as those words left my mouth, I knew that was the truth. My father had never done the hard work of healing from his horribly abusive childhood. His drug use was a desperate attempt to cover up and run away from his pain. And in doing so, his wife and children paid dearly for the crime of just being in his vicinity. Of course there were good times mixed in there. And he wasn't doing the same single drug so there were periods where his drug of choice made his behaviour mild or genial. Those goo time made the bad times that much worse. Those good times taught us that he could be nice and good to us, he just chose not to all the time.

This photo is mufti-layered for me. Her addiction is wanting the love, approval and attention of her father and, like any addict, is willing to go through anything to get it. She's scared, sad, lost and defeated, and ashamed of the hope for something better ore more. But notice also that she is healthy looking, not thin or pale. She can take out the needle and walk away. She doesn't realize that she is whole and continues to look outside herself.

I also see what I think some of my father's pain was when I look at this photo. I can only imagine what pain he felt so acutely that he chose to self-medicate, numbing himself. I have seen the photos of him as a child, with a haunted look that no 8 year-olds should wear. His fear must have been great to continue avoiding his past, even when he slowly lost the involvement of his relatives in his life.

This photo is a reminder that not everything in life is pretty. And there is ugliness in all of our lives, and we don't have to wallow in it. We can take the needle out of arm and reach up for that light coming in from the window.


**My father also had a penchant for owning wolves and wolf hybrid dogs. The one he had the longest, was a female who considered herself the alpha female of the pack, e.g. our family. My brother and I were treated like cubs, and corrected by the wolf as such. My father viewed us getting bit to mean we had obviously done something wrong and we deserved it. So, I have some weird ways regarding how I interact with people that relate directly to wolf pack hierarchy.