Journal of Body Piercing — APP
The following pages feature articles from
issue 49 of Piercing Fans International
Quarterly, 1992. Over 25 years have
passed, but the art was as vital then as it is
today. Used with the permission of
Gauntlet Enterprises.
The following pages feature articles from issue 49 of Piercing Fans International Quarterly, 1992. Over 25 years have passed, but the art was as vital then as it is today. Used with the permission of Gauntlet Enterprises
Body modification can be thought of as a physical manifestation of conceptual thought. As our culture becomes more conceptually focused, many people now deal with body manipulation, although for most it is unintentional. We eat regardless of whether or not we are hungry. We sleep according to arbitrary schedules. We dress with little thought to the surrounding environment. We allow the mind, rather than the body, to control our physical actions. Because this behavior is so prevalent in our culture, it is understandable that it is being represented in contemporary art.
The act of piercing is about forcing my body to take a back seat to my thoughts and allowing my mind to decide what is going to be done in order to create work. The final product of my art generally takes the form of photographs which are displayed alone or included in an installation. The piercings are real, not photographic tricks. Viewers ask why I don’t retouch the photographs to make it “look like” the piercing depicted; I think it is vital that the manipulation is real. This is the point where the idea of performance and time enter my work. The action becomes a tangible, genuine form of conceptual thought. Moreover, the experience informs the work and the artist.
Recently, I did a series of work dealing with social stigmatization and penalization. I was researching legislation created to publicly identify sex offenders and reading articles written by policy-makers discussing the use of shaming as a plausible, economical form of punishment.
Nathaniel Hawthorne’s book The Scarlet Letter and the incident a few years ago when the American teenager was caned in public for a vandalism offense in Singapore also seemed relevant to my investigation. It seemed that body manipulation was a natural way of dealing with these issues.
In one piece, a red plastic tag was attached to my ear with a labret. In big letters, it read “Sodomist” and beneath it was “Unlawful to Remove, Sec 602 VA Penal Code.” I wore this in public for several days. It gave me a greater sense of the ideas I was dealing with and helped me open up to possibilities for new work. It also seemed that it was an important way for getting this kind of art work out of the galleries and art magazines and into the daily lives of a broader audience.
In another piece, I had a piece of muslin sewn to my back on which was stenciled the word “fetishist.” Again, I wore it in public for several days. The clothes I wore for the piece consisted of blue jeans and a blue chambray shirt with the back cut open. It forced people to wonder about their own views of stigmatization and shame first hand—not just theoretically.
Was this person a sex offender? Who did this to him? Is this an art piece? Is this real? How would I feel if someone did this to my brother?
I enjoy getting pierced. This shouldn’t have any bearing on my art, and I would hope I would have created this work even if I didn’t enjoy the process. It is a kind of pleasure that is both physical and psychological. It gives me a strong, physical sense of mind over body when I watch someone taking a needle and putting it through my body. However, because it causes me so much pleasure, I am careful about deciding what projects to take on. I have to consider the roots of my need to do a particular project. Is there artistic merit in this endeavor? Am I using art as an excuse to do harm to myself? It can be a very fine line. To make sure I am on strong footing before undertaking a project, I allow several months to consider and develop the project before executing my plans. I also talk about the piece with other people before going forward. I make the final decision. However, I think it is a good idea to sound out projects thoroughly before hand, especially if they have a high element of physical, psychological, or even financial risk.
I look forward to including more body modification in my work. One of the greatest challenges for artists using this approach in their work is to avoid being regarded as a side show freak. I want to take the audience beyond shock and have them move into the more subtle, personal, and aesthetic dimensions of the work. v
PHOTO CREDITS:
For Fetishist: Piercing by Chance of Gauntlet, Inc. Photography by Lynn Borowitz.
© 1996 by Dave Tavacol.
For Sodomist: Piercing by Jo
of Body Manipulations. Photography by artist.
© 1996 by Dave Tavacol.
Article by Taj Waggaman
Photos by Peter Ross
The following pages feature articles from issue 49 of Piercing Fans International Quarterly, 1992. Over 25 years have passed, but the art was as vital then as it is today. Used with the permission of Gauntlet Enterprises.
No performance issue would be complete without including Julie Tolentino Wood.
Julie is based in New York but was born in San Francisco in 1965. Now aged 30—turning 31 in October— she is truly bi-coastal. With a very full plate and a lot of integrity, Julie serves up plenty of goodies. She works with Ron Athey and David Rousseve, runs the Clit Club in New York, and is a student of many things, including acupuncture and yoga. Having Julie as part of the family is a pleasure, and
I was excited when I was asked to interview her.
With Ron and David, her family, and many friends in California, she keeps a nottoo-distant hand on the West coast. With the management of three companies (her own, David’s, and Ron’s), Julie is constantly planning a tour, event or performance. She tries to sustain balance in all her achievements, her body playing just about the biggest role in her life. Yoga, Chinese medicine, acupuncture, tattoos, piercings, and her latex glove fetish combine to help sustain this, her temple of creation.
Movement has been a part of her life from the beginning, and perhaps because of it Julie has always been a performer. Tattoos and piercings were a natural progression, still just expressions of her body. Most of Julie’s tattoos are commemorative; one of my favorites is the word “loved” on the back of her neck. It’s so great because when you read it you feel loved too.
Julie enjoys her piercings and the experiences that go with them. Crystal Cross from Primeval Body in LA pierced Julie’s vertical nipple piercing. Raelyn Gallina pierced her nostril. Brian Murphy of Gauntlet San Francisco pierced her triangle.
One of Julie’s more rewarding piercing experiences occurred when she and Brian were in London to do a performance with Ron Athey and company. The piercing took place at Alex Binnie’s shop, Into You, where Brian was training another piercer. Ron, Crystal, Pig Pen, and Darryl came along as onlookers. Julie said she wanted some- thing to make her feel like a princess, not a queen. She felt she knew all the queens. As it turned out the “princess” got a labret piercing with a tiny diamond.
1990, the year she turned 25, was very significant for Julie. This was the year she was introduced as part of Reality, David Rousseve’s New York company. She also started the Clit Club. Previously involved as an activist for gay rights and AIDS awareness, she worked with Act-Up and other organizations, championed womens’ rights, and worked to fight racism. She was also a primary caregiver—her first experience—for Ray Navaro, a dear friend suffering with AIDS.
During this time Julie describes herself as seem- ingly tireless. Every aspect of her life was a full time commitment. It was not unusual for her to wake up, go to class, from class to rehearsal, run errands, maybe take a nap, go to the club, and put in a shift as a caregiver for Ray at four o’clock in the morning. The next day was a repeat.
In November of 1990 Ray passed away. In his memory Julie had a flying dragon tattooed on her left shoulder. 1992 was the year Julie discovered yoga. She also met Ron Athey. For about a year they had spoken on the phone. They finally met at a tattoo convention. Both were a bit nervous about meeting the other.
When Julie was introduced to Ron’s work, it became clear to her that this was something she wanted to be involved in. She also felt a sense of protectiveness towards Ron and this work. The rawness and realness of what he was expressing as well as the special chemistry between them encouraged her to become involved as choreographer, performer, co-di- rector, and Ron’s manager.
In addition to working with Ron, Julie has done many solo pieces and collaborations. When I met her two years ago she was doing a performance in San Francisco with Diviana Ingravallo called “Through Our Blood.” Since then Julie and I have performed a very light piece together at the Clit Club. Our friend Patty Powers was stripping and gave myself and two others lap dances. Julie pierced us on stage. I guess that’s what we get for being “bad girls” with our cigars.
This past June at a club in New York called Pork, I was for- tunate to see Julie and her lover/collaborator Tjet Clark do a show entitled “Five Elements” (fire, water, earth, air, metal).
When I heard Julie was planning to incorporate acupunc- ture and body work into her already busy schedule, I asked if that meant she’d have to give something up. She replied, “Well, I’m not getting off the stage!” They just make sense to her and compliment everything else she does.
Julie’s blood runs through everything she is a part of. If you have the opportunity, see one of her performances at the Clit Club in New York City where she appears every Friday night. v
The following pages feature articles from issue 49 of Piercing Fans International Quarterly, 1992. Over 25 years have passed, but the art was as vital then as it is today. Used with the permission of Gauntlet Enterprises.
Motivation and presentation may have changed, but the act of the artist using bodily fluids and perforated flesh as a vehicle of expression is nothing new. In the 70s, artist/groups such as Marina Abromovic and Coum Transmissions, later known as Throbbing Gristle, incorporated blood letting in their performances. In the 80s blood performances attracted greater atten tion. The artist Stelarc suspended himself from a crane over the streets of Copenhagen, held by giant hooks through his flesh.
Portraying the human body as “obsolete,” he gained international notoriety. The collaboration team of Ron Athey and Rozz Williams, known as Premature Ejaculation, was filleting and nailing themselves—and a few road kill—for Los Angeles audiences. On the subject of nails, performance artist Bob Flannigan would hammer the head of his dick to a board and then pry the nail out. AIDS activist/writer/ performance artist David Wojnarowicz utilized similar techniques when he stitched his lips shut as a visual testimony to the concept “Silence = Death.”
Through literature, music videos, high fashion, media sensationalism and governmental hysteria, the sub-culture of permanent and performance piercing has penetrated the mainstream. Don’t be surprised when Barbie starts sporting a “belly button ring.” Increased public attention, both negative and positive, has enabled cutting edge artists like Ron Athey to break from the underground circuit to “proper” performance theaters. Performing in established art environments with greater budgets, the artist can more accurately and elaborately bring their vision to stage.
Performance piercing in the 90s originated in the nightclub. At L. A.’s nightclub “Fuck!”, friends of the promoters included S/M practitioners, who started bringing their sex lives to the dance podium. Performers such as Elayne Binnie, Ron Athey and Crystal Cross were at the forefront.
Fetishism and exhibitionism were the primary motivations. Initial responses ranged from shock and revulsion, to admiration and lust. Most of what you see in nightclubs these days has become narrowly focused on shock value.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good shock more than anyone. However, one cannot rely on sticking needles through flesh to be shocking forever. At some point the shock fades. With repeated exposure even a strong image will lose its power. Just think of TV violence. Unfortunately for most viewers, there’s little variation available. Play pierced lips and ball dances are becoming as passé as navel piercings. It’s difficult to pinpoint where content and progression began to evolve with the individual performer. The process seemed to evolve unconsciously through the repetition of recurring fetish themes.
I was doing shows in nightclubs and as demonstrations for S/M organizations. I became detached; mechanical. The repetitive action of sticking needles through skin had become monotonous; perhaps I had just come to realize that action alone is empty. I began to incorporate my darker feelings into the pieces, creating a sort of psychodrama. Oftentimes I had preexisting relationships with my collaborators and assistants. When I allowed my feelings for the person to fuel the inspiration, the pieces developed depth. My work was now the expression and release of love, obsession, fear, insecurity and vanity. I used images of operating rooms, dungeons and dark basements. Bodily fluids, such as vomit, blood, piss, spit and tears are my favorite medium.
The first work of mine that contained any real substance was “Fuck Art…This is Love.” My partner at the time, Bud Cockerham, was an artist who is HIV positive. I delved into my unconscious fear of watching someone I love being reduced, wasted, and destroyed. I focused my anger at the idea of making love becoming synonymous with cross contamination. Intimacy was death. My anguish materialized. The piece takes place in a plastic-encased operating room. The
audience’s view is clouded and nightmarish. Masked , goggled and garbed head to toe in surgical scrubs, I catheterized him, infused his scrotum to monstrous proportions, sutured his lips shut, carved “HIV+” into his chest, and sprayed him and the enclosed room in his blood. In later performances this image was pushed and the ending changed. I introduced another character who is HIV-. Both drenched in their own blood, they make love through a polyurethane wall.
“Puff-n-Snuff” is playtime in my darkest fantasies. The piece is a tribute to the bogeyman, killer clowns, Texas Chain Saw Massacre and of course, Dennis Cooper. It’s a snuff (murder) fantasy. The killer clown has two victims in a basement, mummified and tied to ladders. Hundreds of pictures of one of the victims are obsessively scattered all over the walls. One of the pictures is placed over a victim’s face. The clown straps on a dildo harness equipped with a 10” steel knife and proceeds to fuck one of the victims to death. A sterile piercing needle is attached into a battery powered drill which the clown presses through the victims’ cheeks. The clown then uses a circular saw to rip through arms and gut the abdomens of the victims. The lights dim while the clown writhes in organs and masturbates with the intestines. Don’t worry; all mutilations, except the drilling, are stunts.
My recent work has gotten lighter, even playful. In the piece “Man’s Ruin,” co-creator Brian Murphy and I brought to life the elements of the traditional tattoo flash of the pin-up girl sitting in a martini glass framed with playing cards and dice. The image pays respect to vice and the sorrow it brings. The piece is staged as a game show hosted by a Las Vegas devil boy and devil girl. Flashing lights, blaring trashy rock, outrageous costumes and props set a dream-like mood. We tempt the contestant with the vices of sex, money, drugs, liquor and vanity. Every time he reaches for his desire we “hook” him. The viewers are the game show’s audience. Their cheers and cries egg us on to hurt him more. One by one, fishhooks pierce his finger webs, cheeks, scrotum and legs which are then strung up to a frame in the image of giant dice. The game continues until he dies. The show ends with rock-n-roll drag-queen nurses body bagging and toe-tagging the loser.
Owning my feelings and fantasies, confronting social taboos and phobias is my work’s passion. Catharsis became the mother of invention. The audience doesn’t always understand the artist’s motivation or the message; with art that isn’t always relevant. Whether awe-inspired or repulsed, rarely is one unmoved. v
by Kenny Hughes
Photos by Kendra Jane B.
January 18, 2001 was the night where my performance art journey began and in many ways it’s what brought me to where I am today. My piercer at the time (and little did I know, soon to be mentor of a failed apprenticeship) asked me if I wanted to head to Houston to see some body suspensions. I’d already been doing research on the subject for many years via the internet and various publications, but never had the pleasure of witnessing a suspension in person. To say that 19 year old me was thrilled about going is a bit of an understatement. Entering the renowned #’s Night Club that night for the first time would leave me forever changed.
It wasn’t long after entering that I began to recognize faces that I had been stalking on BME over the last several years. These people may as well have been celebrities to me at the time, and actually just like today, I was too much of a weirdo to introduce myself. Soon there was some guy in a lizard suit on stage playing with fire and walking on glass… but it was no suit. This was my first time seeing the Lizard Man in person. We didn’t chat that night, but later he would help me and other members of the troupe with fire manipulation. Then there were the Jager Tour visits; that’s another story though. With a bit of a lengthy wait between sets, which would become a bit of an unfortunate trademark, I was a witness to the birth of CoRE. This was also my introduction to performance art in person.
The performers slowly came out and took their respective places. There were four separate suspension points for this mobile that represent the four elements: earth, water, air, and fire. I was enthralled by the tedious job of rigging the suspendees to their rigs. Nothing at all compared to the breathtaking rigging that can be seen today; it was nothing short of captivating. Soon we could hear the all too familiar gut-wrenching noise of the chain hoist over the music, but this only meant one thing it was time to take flight.
The suspensions that night were vertical (Suicide), horizontal face-down (Superman), horizontal face-up (Coma), and knees. I found each one more exciting than the previous. The swinging, the stretching of the skin, and the blood, all mixed with the performance; the makeup, and the music all held my attention until the last person was cut down.
I got so much more out of that night than I ever thought possible. I just expected to go see some guys hang from hooks, but unknown to me at the time, the performance aspect brought it all to another level. Until you witness it yourself (in person) for the first time, you will never comprehend the gamut of emotions that can run through you as you are a part of such an event. It can bring laughter and extreme happiness and then make you cry for no damn reason like you never have before. For the following decade of my life I had the extreme pleasure of making observers feel this way with some of the best people I’ll ever have in my life.
A few months later, the same friend took me to Taurian to visit with the director of CoRE and, at the time, the Vice President of the APP, the incomparable Steve Joyner. Steve had already had a big influence on me, and that only grew in the years after as I had the pleasure of working directly with him. This man has done more for the piercing industry than what seems possible for a single person and he will never be equalled. If there was some otherworldly super hero for piercers it would be him. Even though we may have our differences from time to time, it is an honor to call him a friend and colleague. This visit is also the first time I met the skinny, dreamy, dread-locked Byriah Dailey. Byriah was the owner of Taurian, the head engineer for CoRE, and would many years later become my mentor in body jewelry manufacturing and piercing. He is still to this day my favorite person on this planet and the best piercer I know. If I owed my career to any one person, it would be this man.
After some discussions of future piercings and other things we grabbed some fliers for an upcoming CoRE show and were on our way. It was after that second show that I contacted Steve again and discussed what I had to do to become part of the troupe. I was quickly invited to come to their meetings and see how we all got along. It wasn’t long before I was doing my first suspensions both privately and for performances.
Soon CoRE was travelling across the country and at times other continents to perform for the world. From small art galleries in Paris to performing in front of well over a hundred thousand people at music festivals and yes, there was that one night at the Playboy Mansion. One of my personal favorite shows was one where we were battling fire breathing robots. This also happened to be the occasion where a reporter asked Kali, everyone’s favorite S&M body piercer turned Christian revivalist, if he was crazy, to which he replied, “yes, and I have the papers to prove it.”
All of this became the jump start to my piercing career. I’ve had people from the other side of the world contact me and tell me how I’ve helped them accomplish things in their lives that they never thought possible. It was always my intention and still is to this day to show the world how beautiful you can be. By pushing our own boundaries in life and art, we inspire others to explore their own. With enormous amounts of blood, Houston, Texas sweat, and tears this is what performance art is to me.
We are CoRE.
The following is a blog post on the International Suspension Alliance website entitled “We Are CoRE” dated 9/13/2010:
““I try to remove bricks off the wall of society. In my lifetime, I will probably remove one brick from that wall, and that’s the whole point of this.” –Steve Joyner
Trying to write about Constructs of Ritual Evolution, or CoRE as you might know them, may be one of the most challenging subjects I have taken on. I think a lot of that comes from the fact that what they are doing on stage is more about what you personally take away from it than anything else. It’s emotion; it is about making you think. The beautiful pictures here can’t begin to do justice to watching the real thing and no amount of words could tell you what you would experience seeing it in person. I’m just here to tell you who they are and what they do. As for the rest… well, you would just have to see them yourself to figure that one out.
With an anniversary right around the corner, CoRE is coming up on ten years of performing, educating, and evolving into what it is today. What they are may be the trickiest question to answer. Are they performance art or suspension, actors or educators? The simple answer is all of the above. For as much as they put into entertaining the crowds on stage, just as much is put into their work with the suspension community. With links on their website to educational resources and their classes that range from cross contamination and aftercare to suspension safety, saying that education is an important part of what they do would be a drastic understatement. They take time to attend suspension conventions worldwide, traveling everywhere from Dallas to Israel to share what they know and with the classes he has taught through the Association of Professional Piercers and Professional Piercing Information Systems, CoRE’s founder and director Steve Joyner is a familiar face among both the suspension and piercing communities. Even the live show is a chance for them to teach through their actions on stage. Steve worded it best when he said that whether or not you consider yourself an educator, every time you step on stage, the people in that audience are taking with them what you have done.
As for what to expect from CoRE’s live show, it tells us stories that could be taken differently by each person in the audience. Like any good work of art, it is made to reach you on a very personal level. They have worked to bring us something far greater than just people hanging from hooks, what they do on stage is nothing short of breathtaking. Having a cast of performers that range from elegant belly dancers and contortionists to bold and daring fire-breathers and suspension artists, CoRE’s show encompasses a unique blend of rituals, suspensions, and stage performance. Their well coordinated use of light and sound to compliment the acts on stage adds yet another dimension as you watch the show. With a rehearsal schedule that could rival Cirque du Soleil’s, this certainly isn’t just a group fooling around on stage. Every act is carefully prepared, edited, and rehearsed with special attention to the safety and well being of all of those involved.
I am so excited to see what the next ten years has in store for this remarkable group of people. I know we will continue to see many more shows coming up for CoRE in the future and if you have the chance to see them live be sure not to miss out on the opportunity to witness a spectacular performance by this one-of-a-kind theatrical group. You can keep up with upcoming dates, news, and educational events on their website We Are CoRE.
Thank you so much to everyone in CoRE for what you have given to all of us, both inside the suspension community and out. A special thank you to Patricia and Steve for being such a huge help in writing this article.
Reprinted from Inkspired Magazine issue 22, 2014, with permission of the publisher.
Story: Sean Dowdell
Photography: Sean Hartgrave
Number of years piercing: 27
SD: What do think is something positive that the comes from the piercing industry, if anything?
SJ: It is adding cultural diversity to our society. It can give individual meaning as an outlet of expression to people.
SD: What would you like other piercers to know that they might not know about you?
SJ: Not a damn thing! Just kidding…! know that I have worked hard to push our industry but at the end of the day, my door is open to anyone who would like to talk to me about piercing. I love teaching and talking to everyone and learning myself. I’m more sensitive than people think. I don’t like arguing or arrogance.
SD: Being a veteran piercer, what advice do you think that most new piercers should be aware of as they climb into our industry?
SJ: Piercers need to SLOW DOWN. Take the time to learn A-Z correctly. They need to go through a real apprenticeship and take it for what it is meant to be.
SD: Is there anything you wish to learn or get better at in the piercing industry?
SJ: Oh yeah! There will always be more techniques and newer equipment. I would love to learn to do hand poking tattoos. I am on my way to learning as well!
Photos by Kendra Jane B.
Exhibition Panel Design by Becky Dill
by Nick Johnson
Entering the annual Body Piercing Archive exhibit at Conference is something I al- ways look forward to. Each year seems to surpass the previous in quality and execution. It is not dissimilar to a well-curated museum hall. This year reached deep down and touched a very personal place in my heart with The Perforated Body: an Examination of Piercing in Performance. I came to body piercing through suspension and found my people, my tribe, my community. Seeing the many faces of my mentors and peers represented and getting to know more about those that inspired them stirred me with emotion and passion like never before.
I took every opportunity I could to sit in on guided tours with each of the different docents to gain greater insight and perspective on the numerous artists and performers represented. Couple this with the class session on Piercing in Performance and it created a fully realized and dynamic conversation about a topic paralleling our industry that newer piercers may not have known about.
To quote the opening panel of the exhibit, “For the professional body piercer, ‘Piercing’ is familiar, repetitive, and sometimes even mechanical. Yet piercing retains a mysterious complexity beyond the clinical eye… In performance, ‘piercing’ may engage an audience’s feelings of astonishment, wonderment, repul- sion and/or fear. As well, perforating or pene- trating the flesh can be utilized to non-verbally communicate aspects of power, autonomy, violence, and/or sexuality.” This last line I feel brings the act of piercing full circle when a client comes in to get pierced, perhaps they too are trying to communicate their own personal power, autonomy, or sexuality.
The exhibit included Bob Flanagan’s exploration of pain and the body while living with cystic fibrosis, Genesis P-Orridge’s exploration of identity and the occult, and Stelarc’s journey to transcend the body, among many others. Each artist represented has a strong will and way to show the world something through their personal lens.
Other highlights of the exhibit were Ron Athey and Divinity P. Fudge’s “Human Printing Press” from Four Scenes From a Harsh Life, hung much as it originally was above the heads of the audience. This small piece which sparked a congressional hearing on funding for the art in the United States was enlightening to hear about. The ability to see the costumes and props from CoRE up close allowed me to see the hardwork and dedication Steve Joyner has put into such an amazing performance group. The Jon John exhibit brought tears to my eyes, as I listened to Paul King talk about his relationship with such a beautiful life lost too soon.
As a piercer and as a suspension practitioner, this year’s exhibit has given me quite a bit to ponder about where life will take my peers and myself. I sincerely hope that in ten or twenty years time I will have the opportunity to see more of my contemporaries or even myself alongside such legends. The Body Piercing Archive is such an amazing and important entity, without it a lot of our history could have been lost to time. It’s important to know where you come from so that you can better see your own road ahead of you. If you can, please support the BPA and our industry’s other historians such as Scared Debris. I look forward to next year’s exhibit and seeing more of our beautiful history.