Posts tagged Performance

Point 83: Love on Me

By Jon John

I have cancer.

I was given a slim chance of surviving. My first reaction was fear and self-blame; somehow I caused this sickness. My experience with this life threatening disease is the inspiration for this work.

This new performance Love on Me draws strength from conversations with the performance  artist Ron Athey and readings from Illness as Metaphor, by Susan Sontag. Susan Sontag prevailed over the harsh treatments of two cancer diagnoses. She denied the fatalness of her final cancer and treatment until her last breath. Ron Athey, self-describe as “living corpse” has survived decades with HIV. From Ron I have learned how to live with this dying body.

Every person gets sick.

Every person will wonder why he or she is the one to get sick, no matter if that illness is a bad cold or a terminal cancer. Metaphors help us understand the world. Metaphors for illness can comfort the anxiety of not knowing. Many are tempted to make sense of illness metaphorically, as a punishment, a sign, an opportunity, or a war raging in one’s body.

When referring to cancer and its treatment, medical professionals and patients use phrases such as “bolstering” the body’s “defenses” and “battling” the “invasive” tumor. Blood cells get “counts,” like surviving soldiers at the end of each day of war. With treatments, we use words such as “bombard,” “neutralize,” and “kill.” People whose diseases go into remission are “survivors.” Sontag notes obscure facts about chemotherapy and warfare, explaining how the earliest cancer drugs share lineage with mustard gas, just as an early syphilis treatment used arsenic—a dark irony being that the treatments, when approached with warfare mentality, are believed to cause a whole set of new health problems.

For Sontag, cancer was associated with certain inhibited personality types. The metaphor attached to cancer is repression of a desire. This suppressed longing gets, literally, “balled up” as a voracious tumor.

If cancer is a disease of passion, will love aid my struggle with this disease? Following some the modern myths that my disease is rooted in: sexual repression, inability to express emotions, failure, punishment, or an inhibited personality type— as oblation, I offer this performance and installation.

Point 83: Jonathan Arias – Artist’s Manifesto

By Jon John

  • I believe that the action of love remains one of the few accessible ecstatic rituals in our disposable society.
  • My invocations of love are not static. The rituals and aesthetics of my childhood experiences continue to transform through research and personal connection.
  • My ritual is communal alchemy. I don’t perform for audiences but rather engaged witnesses that become co-creators. My lovers.
  • From my veins flow Basque, Argentinean and Gypo. “Gypo” is a derogatory term I own for Gitano, which is the Spanish-Roma ethnicity.
  • The complexity of my ethnicities gave dimensionality to my religious upbringing. We are a catholic family that practices magic. My people gave me the gifts of healing bodies and conjuring spirits.
  • My queerness is not in a typical narrative of exclusion, but rather a celebration of my otherness.
  • It is not a longing of something missing, but a quest with an open heart.
  • Through altered state of consciousness I transcend my spoken vocabulary, to share my hidden secrets of love, life, and loss.
  • I utilize video, photography, installation, and most notably performance.
  • Flesh, skin, and blood are my palette to take you on a journey from tenderness to brutality via beauty and decay.

Point 83: Jonathan Arias, 1983-2017

THE BODY PIERCING ARCHIVE

by Paul King

This year’s APP Conference in Las Vegas provides a unique opportunity to view materials from Jon John’s performances. After the exhibition, his archive relocates to the Queen Mary University in London as part of their permanent collection.

It is with sadness that we share the news of Jon John’s passing. Publicly, he was known for his performance art as well as his gallery-tattoo shops, AKA Berlin and AKA London. AKA Berlin was opened in November of 2009, with a partner Valentin Plessy. Jon’s driving concept behind AKA was to create a supportive nexus for artistic talent. Resident artists became co-creators and family. Riding the success of AKA Berlin, Jon John opened AKA London in January of 2013. Unfortunately, it was one year later that he received his cancer diagnosis and began scaling back. Eventually, AKA London had to be closed. Today, the vision of AKA Berlin carries on under the very capable and talented hands of tattooist Philippe Fernandez, with Gabriel Meister as the lead piercer.

Although Jon John was an adept tattooist, body piercer, and jeweler, it was his performance art that gave him the greatest pleasure and purpose. Perhaps Jon John’s own words, best describe the significance of his art (please read his Artist’s Manifesto on page 57). In addition to his solo work, he collaborated with artists such as Ron Athey, Joey Arias, Marilyn Manson, Nick Knight, Paul King, Rancinan, Kiril Bikov, Juano Diaz, David Harrow, and others.

Against the strong warnings of his doctors, Jon John insisted on a farewell performance. He had been working on a performance piece for over a year that was delving into emotional and physical complexities of illness, medical treatment, love, life, and death. This performance, Love On Me: The Finest Hour, offered closure for family and friends:

My heart bursts with gratitude from our shared ritual. My family, friends, artists, and lovers, free from the artificial constraints of this body, this place, and this time, you have healed my spirit – we are together, always.

Less than one month after this final performance, at the age of 33, Jon John passed away with family and friends by his side. He had no regrets, no resentments, and nothing left unsaid. He remained an inspiration of love, his guiding principle, throughout his death as he had throughout his life.

—Paul King, friend and co-creator

  • For more information about Jon John:
    • www.akaberlin.com
    • www.jonjohn.net
  • To view performances:
    • https://vimeo.com/jonjohn

Point 83: Performance Artist: Louis Fleischauer

Interviewed by Hika K.

Louis Fleischauer is a performance artist currently residing in Berlin, after 12 year in Los Angeles. He directs and creates conceptual ritual performance art all over the world, including having his actors play the role of human sculptures and instruments. He also does wearable art in the form of conceptualized corset collections that he uses within his shows.

Hika: First of all, thank you for allowing me to do this interview with you. You have been doing body performances for quite a while now. How did you get into performing? Was there any particular moment or situation that you would call integral, that led you into it; a moment where the spark started?

Louis: Sound/music has always been a big part of my life and a way of how I define myself. In my late teens I started out experimenting with sound and various projects. Around this time I saw a concert of a band I really liked on CD, but the concert was so boring. At that moment I swore to myself there would be life on my stage. Using my body came naturally. Since I was a child, I had this fascination with blood. I used to get random nosebleeds. One night (I was five or six years old) I woke up covered in my own blood, there was this mix of fear and fascination. This might have been my first conscious high and the spark that triggered my desire for using my body to explore my mind.

H: In case our international readers aren’t as familiar with your works as we are in the German piercing scene, can you tell them about performances? Your work seems divided in two directions, that at the same time are connected, can you elaborate on both of those directions for us?

L: The two main projects of mine are Aesthetic Meat Front and AMF Korsets (Fleischauer Creations).

Aesthetic Meat Front combines Body Art Rituals with sounds created with the help of the human body (amplified heartbeats taken during breath control, microphones that are attached to metal coils which are connected to the skin with the help of hooks, brain waves captured whilst getting pierced/suspended). The intention of this project is to create a raw primal energy that awakens your instincts, to stimulate parts of your brain that have been castrated by that hyper digital, consumer friendly reality we live in. We, as a species, can only evolve  if we put as much focus on the health and expansion on our minds as we focus on the health and growth of the economy.

AMF Korsets focuses on my wearable art, sculptured organic materials, mostly leather. Sometimes I present them on stage in conceptual fashion shows that also include some elements of performance/body art.

H: Do you feel that growing up in Germany still divided had any influence on your art? If so, to what extent is it still visible in the art that you are doing now?

L: Most definitely, it shaped me as a person and with this as an artist. Living behind the Iron Curtain and being constantly harassed by the police and Stasi for the way I choose to dress made me a strong believer in the right of self expression and the right to have control over your own body. Also the fact that it was impossible to buy any counter culture related clothing forced me to create my own, which was the first step towards AMF Korsets.

H: You are using suspension and pulling with hooks for your performances. Usually this is something seen from artists who have a background as piercers, but to my knowledge you have not worked as a piercer, have you?

L: I have way too much fun with needles to make it my profession. My background is experimental music and ritualistic performance art. Public suspension for me is a tool to show not only what can be done with the body, but which mental states can be reached with the help of the body. Over the years I did train with some very professional piercers. I’m grateful to have had Steve Joyner on my side while I lived in California.

H: As you probably know The Point is a publication from the Association of Professional Piercers, so it is very piercing-related. The reason why this edition is strongly focused around performance art is because this artform has certain crossovers with the body modification world, even if no needles or tools from our industry are used. What do you think about this, do you agree, do you disagree and regardless: how so?

L: Performance has its origin in the dramatization of ritual. Body modification also has its root in ritual. So it’s only natural that they are intertwined.

Point 83: Performance Art by Hika K.

Photo: Iwlig Haghjaj by Artkor Sultan Kaiser

I have always been drawn to the magic of storytelling. Like most of us the creation of adventures was a big part of my childhood. I was able to see something magical in the smallest and most mundane of things.

There was always an adventure waiting to happen, threads weaved together only waiting to be discovered, waiting to be unraveled by our own interpretations. So for a long time I lived in ideas, written words and moving pictures, letting my soul be touched by the creations of others. When the ideas became too plentiful, mine spilled onto paper, whenever I felt there where words that needed to be spoken. But as it is with everything in life, there exist limits to everything, and my expression found its limits with those things that I could not use words to aptly describe. Other forms of art fascinated me, the ways melodies and its accompanying dance, or a photograph can touch ones soul. Art has the ability to break open the seal of emotions that may have been buried. I became fascinated with everything seemingly abstract, with its deeper meaning hidden and only visible to those who strife to see.

Many years later, after becoming a body piercer and long gone through the process of growing up and then subsequently mended myself did I realize the effect of society’s expectations, limits, taboos and having those things ingrained in me. Although I was always questioning, fighting and in turn chose my profession because of this struggle for empowerment, drawn towards making my body my own and choosing my own outer shape. This is how I became fascinated by another form of art: Body Performances, using pain, blood and the strong energy that comes with it to make a point. I had so many stories to tell in this way but I was silent for a long time because the invisible scars of trying to conform were too deep. Until one day, when the time was right, I asked somebody I trusted to help me pour my anger, feelings, the criticisms of society’s standards and the damage they did onto the stage.

And here the adventure started, here catharsis happened, over and over again. And with time I understood how performing on stage although scary, was also exciting, beautiful, and god-damn badass to look at , but it gives you something back, something bigger than all the rest of it. It heals the wounds you have no word for. It gives you another way to feel your body. It lets you physically release the things that keep your anger burning and leaves you in tears, it allows you to let them out. But more important than anything; it allows you to connect, you can touch the soul of others.

Understanding this meant understanding that my profession as a body piercer is not so different to my cherished performance work. Because both circle around empowerment, reclaiming your body and healing the unspoken-of, maybe deeply-buried wound festering inside.

Ritual – The Club
Koma Suspension
Photo by Le Vinee
Hika K. by House of Rough Arts

Hika’s Interview with Noema:

Because of the power that is held in performance art I knew had to write about it. Noema Pasquali is a body piercer, performance artist, healer and yoga-teacher from Italy currently living in Berlin. Her work encompasses many topics and styles, and she regularly performs and teaches at BmxNet Conference.

Hika: Hello Noema! First of all thank you for doing this interview with me. Maybe we can start with you introducing yourself?“

Noema: My name is Noema but as an artist I have choosen the stage name Tiger Orchid (based on two elements really close to me). The tiger is the most important symbolic animal to me, since it is the animal of Durga, one of the gods I worship. Secondly I chose the orchid because is a really interesting plant, as it is delicate and with this not really easy to grow and yet astoundingly resilient.

H: Can you tell us how you got into performance in the first place? Was there a certain initial point that you can think about?

N: I think there is not really a definitive point where I started with my performances. Since I was a child  I showed an aptitude for every kind of art and it  was very clear that I was in need of some communication and expression. So during my studies and while growing up I was very drawn to anthropology, literature, semiotics and visual sociology. Basically all things to do with the research of humans and their history. Obviously I was more into rites of passages. When I was around twenty—so twenty years ago—I started my career as a fakir and every kind of emotion and relation close to pain and close to devotion has been really interesting  for  me. So when I discovered suspension I wanted to try. To have that feeling of trance and that moment when you pass into another dimension, when you feel nothing. Although I would say you are close to the God that is inside of you. That was one of the most powerful moments of my life I totally felt  the power of that kind of rite and I planned my career into two different kind of directions. One was very devotional and the other a crazy one, more in the direction of freakshows, sideshows…though we can’t really say there is a difference to me, since those sideshows also had my devotion. Performing in a freakshow is the same as bakhti in yoga to me. It’s another kind of devotion.

H: I would also like to know what is your motivation to do performances, to keep you performing longterm? What kind of performances are the most important to you?

N: Rituals have been really important for me in my career as a performer since I use them to talk about some influences which are really strong in contemporary society—I am talking about the struggle in situations around things like gender and other controversial social situations. One of the most important performances in which I use hooks is a hommage to my grandfather’s death. Since he committed suicide I decided to create this kind of performance as a reply to his death. This was an amazing performance for which I used a passage from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. I used the part in which Ophelia’s body should be buried and two clowns are sitting there talking about death and the reason people are committing suicide, as well as how they cannot enter heaven if they are responsible for their own death. This performance is directed towards people’s judgements and the social stigma surrounding suicide. We can basically say that my work is based on elements that are important on my journey as a student, or as a fakir or as a yoga teacher.

H: Which also is another thing—you are spreading into a lot of directions profession wise. Does this sometimes feel contradictory?

N: I can’t really say that there is a separation in the things I do. All I’ve done has been leading me to be the kind of performer I am now. This has been just a natural process for me. I still have to say I want to do this because performing has become a way for me to communicate and is to me the most important medium to empathize with other humans to let them recognize the issues at hand and try to educate them. I consider art the most powerful and also the most peaceful weapon ever. My heart has been my way to contribute to society, and to also give something to my community. We are growing into a society that has no idea what community is. We don’t share our hopes and dreams. There are no real connections. But I see that in this kind of underground art, there is a little community of people that are trying to bring something special, a kind of new communication. It’s amazing to see how we want to be part of this society in the most active way.

H: There is something I want to get into. You say there is not really a difference in the things you do—but I noticed you do very different things, one can say a split in your types of performance art. Some is more theatre like, where even the sideshow tells a story. Yet some is more serious, and dark. Do you see a difference with how the audience reacts? Because everytime you tell a story you approach it differently. I would expect that the audience reacts differently to you suturing your genitals together than you eating glass and spitting fire.

Infirmitas Sexus
Fire eating photo by Marta Petrucci

N: It is true that you always have different audiences and this may affect what you are doing on the stage. I am booked because I use different stories, but I can tell you that it’s mostly your attitude that makes the difference. When you are really good in communicating what you are doing, even blood is not scary, and usually I use a lot of blood in my performances. I use a lot of things that could be seen as scary, for example stitching my genitals for my last art performance. Even though I use more hardcore elements in my sideshows, people are more scared of what I am doing with my art performances. But the point of why they are scared is that during those performances solely for art there is the absence of “entertainment”. During my performance art I tell other kinds of stories. They are based on empathy and maybe some socialities, they are more sensitive. They are more connected to soul things. It’s not about what I do, it’s about what people see. It’s more based on their own story and their interpretation of my art performance. I just work with the kinds of archetypes I learned about in my studies of anthropology (which is really easy for me since this was one of my favorite subjects as a student). So everything is really connected to things deep inside of us, we are linked more to a kind of tribe—a community—than to a society. This is where I base my work on and people get scared because I just bring them back to their own soul. Blood is the first element of life.

So they get scared—but again, it is not about me, it is about them. They recognize all those ideas and spirits.

H: I noticed from my own performances for example that some people take the story in a little bit better if they laugh before, if you offer them some fun. They open up to think and don’t get so scared. Do you ever think about making living solely, this means taking more bookings that would be for entertainment purposes rather than for art per se. For example when you work in fetish parties to spit fire there. Do you still tell those kind of stories or is it only entertainment? How do you feel about that, if there even is any difference?

N: For fetish parties I can say that it is not so far away from who I am. I am forty, don’t forget this (laughs). When I started all my performance art it was way easier to do it in the underground scene which BDSM was part of. Ritual—The Club in Rome, where I have been the main performer for at least six years, was also host to Ron Athey twice, and was one of the first to have fetish parties using performance art back in the 90s. Having a field to express yourself in underground parties was easier back then. In the past I was the kind of woman that one didn’t easily meet, I was somehow “the different one” so it was easier to go there to express myself, to dress as I liked, to feel free and to meet normal people also expressing their desires, their individuality . There was no judgement. Now I can say that it is true that as BDSM changed so did those parties. Now I like when I can interact with the people, I know what to do. Now at parties where I am entertaining (versus performing) I don’t work with needles on those people but I work with fire and let them try warm wax. There is a kind of communication based on the acknowledgement of another aspect of your body, another kind of feeling. How things work. I let them play, they trust me and they are always grateful because they discovered and tried something new.

H: Also you are working as a yoga-teacher and a healer. Do you want to tell us something about that aspect of your life?

N: This actually also started when I was really young. Most of the artists I know work as a healer—actually, trying to communicate and empathize is integral for being a healer. Being a healer is a nature, we can say. I always had that call from the universe, I always had that kind of gift and of course as all the people in the healing scene I was feeling always connected to all kind of energies. Working with them makes you also understand people’s problems and you realize you are not the only one living on this planet. Everybody is the same as you, maybe in a different body, but the problems are always the same. Always the same. So basically my career as a healer is one that is part of all of my other careers—as I told you in the start, everything is connected, I don’t see a difference in anything I do. It is all part of my big project in being an evolved woman.

H: Last but not least, do you see something in common with being a piercer and being a performer? Do you see a connection in performing and body piercing in itself, apart from you using needles on stage obviously.

N: My performance career started from being a body piercer. It actually started when I began piercing myself. This was my way of becoming closer to my own body, to the perception of it. I felt when the needles went through the skin as well as all its consequences. In my work, there is a big part that I really love to focus on is the expression of the body, the pain and the feelings which has been possible to me through piercing and being a piercer.

For me it is not only a strong connection but a natural evolution as a first step to enter into body art. We have an idea of what people are scared of and what the social implications of modifications due to societal pressures. The judgement that society has about the piercing world. As a piercer this is an interesting kind of approach. It is not only about the skin and the jewelry. It’s talking to people that are sometimes far from your way of life. They are a kind of audience for you as a piercer. It is like being on a stage, there is nothing different. You have to interact with people and to know people and take interest in what they say. So as you can see once again I can tell you that nothing of what I do is really divided. It is always in your approach, and my approach is always the same, the attitude is always the same. So I am just a good traveller—let’s say it that way. I am really interested in knowledge and research and discovery and of all things the most important thing now is to evolve, to be in contact with people around me.

H: Thank you so much Noema! This was really interesting and eye-opening!

N: Thanks for having the interview!

Performance by Vagina Dentata captured by Will Barnard

Point 83: Santa Sangre Body Rituals

By Darkam & Beto

Santa Sangre Body Rituals Manifesto

Let us be quiet for a second and listen to the Gods sleeping. They sleep through the daylight madness and the hidden obligations. Their yawns loud enough to open canyons and generate stars. Dreams made of sticky pollen, bees embroidering eternal paths. There, the bedtime stories are made of ancient ropes, each knot its own tale. There, blood is the most precious gift, and it’s used to write ancient stories.

Santa Sangre Body Rituals

Darkam and Beto (Kukulcan Rituals) make the two pillars of Santa Sangre Body Rituals. Their different backgrounds and perspectives join to create a parallel world in which their art, performances, rituals, and music yield something that is larger than life.

Beto has Mexican roots, and is deeply connected to his pre-Hispanic heritage. He started experimenting with body suspensions 14 years ago and has worked in 38 different countries as a performer, private body suspender, and lecturer. He also does hand poked tattoos and scarifications.

Darkam started as a piercer 15 years ago in Italy while conducting her research in visual arts, where she studied drawing and illustration. She currently works as an illustrator, comic artist, and tattooist.Hermetic magic, alchemic symbolism, and the ancient pagan rituals have always been a great source of learning and inspiration for her.

In 2015 the Santa Sangre Body Rituals project sprang to life. Mixing symbolism from different backgrounds, they reinterpret ancient legends and folklore. Old tales reflect our archetypes, thus bringing us to the very foundation of human perception.

Through their thorough narrative structure, detailed research, and accurate cultural and anthropological stories, they turn their performances into an enchanting moment for the audience.

But all this works as a trigger; a way to achieve the contact within oneself, to our deepest emotions, those that are part of our human and individual history. These emotions are ingrained in us, central to our body, written in the blood, and bring with them an evocative force.

Photo by Tattoo Nysa

Each performance is unique and is never repeated the same way. Everything, from the costumes to the music, is carefully chosen to support the narrative.

When an audience is new to body modification practices, body suspension may be perceived as something brutal. This is why Santa Sangre Body Rituals like to play with opposites; to show that suspension is not only related to pain and suffering but that it can be a path to spiritual elevation:

  • That blood can be a powerful offering, as it used to be in ancient times.
  • That beauty can be found in the most unexpected places.
  • That the red string that Japanese believe to connect souls, can be made of blood.

Santa Sangre Body Rituals mix visual arts as live paintings that extend beyond the given canvas such as during their unique collaboration with body suspending opera singer Joa Helgesson. They hope to continue bringing the shows to unfamiliar and academic contexts in the future.

Photo by Tattoo Nysa
Photo by Recycl’Art

www.santasangrebodyrituals.com

Point 83: Performance Art by Dee

By Deanna Mae Hostland

I am a professional body piercer from Calgary, Alberta, Canada and have been piercing for 16 years. My job is my passion and my life. As a little girl I always enjoyed performing and my heart was set on becoming a singer. Even though this is not the path my life took, the opportunity to be on stage presented itself later on in life for me, and in a slightly different manner than I had originally planned.

When I was given the chance to perform in Calgary with a variety show I knew I didn’t want it to be just another burlesque performance, so I started thinking about what else I could do. Having taken baton lessons as a girl I realized I could hone my skills and put together a fire spinning routine. I rigged up some homemade torches, taught myself to breathe fire and went from there.

Once I had enough experience with the batons I ordered some fire fans and incorporated those into my sets. I did shows using these and decided I needed to up my game even further. I had performance art fever. I was familiar with play piercing and had pierced myself many times throughout my life. I began brainstorming how I could incorporate fire and piercing; this is when the “Titty Torches” were born!

The idea was to pierce my chest with needles that were threaded at the end to allow mini torches to be attached. I would pierce each side of my chest, light the torches on fire and breathe fire off of them. It took some trial and error and I realized that the fire proved to be a little too close to my face to breathe off of. After some adjustments the idea worked beautifully.

With seven inch long, threaded 14g needles, I pierced my chest three inches deep (I found that any less tissue wouldn’t hold the weight of the torches) on either side, this was always the big finale to my show. These were the last piercings I did after doing three smaller play piercings on either side. Everything was choreographed to music that would fit the theme of the show.

I had opportunities to perform many  times in a few years and   I never liked to do the same thing, so once again I decided I needed to add a little something else to my sets. This is when I came up with my “Puscifer Piercing Set”. This included three different sets of play piercing and fire that were performed to three different Puscifer songs. It started with seven needles inserted into my arm to the song “Queen B”. It ended when I would pierce each of my thighs four times, then corset them together to the song “V is for Vagina”. This took a lot of precise measuring as I was doing it on myself and being a perfectionist, everything needed to look perfect when the ribbon was tied. The visual was beautiful. I was proud to perform and, although I no longer perform, it was one of the best times in my life. I’ll always have the marks to remember it by.

Point 83: Suspensions (D.T.)

By Daniel Thomas

Collaborative installation
by Stelarc & Håvve Fjell
Håvve Fjell
Shadow Suspension, Dallas Suscon, 2013.
Photo: Luna Duran

There is a movement of suspensions being used as a contemporary art form, but it’s definitely not a new concept. A Cyprus-born, Australian performance artist named Stelarc was creating artwork with suspension since the ‘70s before the modern suspension movement was really even a thing. Stelarc had some breathtaking work. For me, his 1980 installation of “sitting/swaying” at the Tamura Gallery in Tokyo, Japan will always have a place in my heart for its pure beauty. Stelarc began with 18 rocks equalling his weight attached to a circle of eyebolts in the ceiling, using ropes with slip knots. The other end of each rock was attached to a hook in Stelarc’s skin. As the performance began with Stelarc sitting in the center of the circle, each slip knot was released and he was lifted, slowly swaying until his body was completely counterbalanced in a seated position.

I have been fortunate enough to be involved in the creation of many of my visions for suspension and the visions of my dearest friends. One of my first real experiences with exhibiting suspension to the public as an art form was in early 2014. I had just moved to Christchurch, New Zealand – a city of around 375,000 people. Christchurch had been hit with a series of earthquakes that demolished the majority of their city. It was obvious that one of the coping strategies the city used was making art. The suspension team I was a member of, Skindependent, was asked to install a suspension inside a shipping container that had been converted into a downtown art gallery. We suspended one of our team members in a horizontal position facing down with lines filling the entirety of the container. The suspension was carefully designed and mapped out by our team leader, Eden Thomson. I was quite nervous about being involved in this because of the possible reactions. There were definitely some ruffled feathers from this creation, but the majority of the people were receptive and full of questions about what suspension was. I remember being uplifted by all the beautiful conversations with complete strangers about why we choose to suspend, and subsequently, we even inspired a few people to be suspended by the team later that year. I didn’t really think much of this; I just put it down to the people of Christchurch being more open-minded, and maybe because the Skindependent team had already been creating beautiful suspensions for many years prior.

Skin Project, New York City 2015
Suspension facilitated by myself,
Misty Forsberg, and skin attendees
Photo by Lippie mfg

Each time that I was involved in a public demonstration with artistic suspension, this pattern continued, no matter where in the world we were. I would get a bout of anxiety about possible negative reactions, but they would never materialize. People were always so curious and open-minded. I only truly realized the effect that artistic suspensions could have after designing, and helping to create, a suspension at the Skin Project in New York City. Skin is an annual event, hosted by the Anchors Aweigh team, bringing practitioners from around the world together to create a gallery-style production. This event has done a great deal for the development of artistic suspension and continues to push boundaries each year for what is possible within this art form, but for me, this pushed boundaries in my own family. I come from a loving and supportive family, but they have made it clear that suspension is something that they would rather I was not involved in. After the event, I posted some photos online of this suspension and I received messages I never expected to see. My mother, father, and grandmother had all individually sent me messages of praise that meant so much to me. It wasn’t the praise that meant a lot; it was the beginning of acceptance of my involvement in something that I love so much.

I believe artistic suspension has a very special purpose and that is to create a form of wider acceptance for what we do. To me, suspension is a beautiful, empowering act. I see it in an entirely different light than the general public. People tend to see it as a form that is tortuous and is linked to a purely sadistic/masochistic motive. Often just the idea of suspension evokes emotions that will turn people’s stomachs and set boundaries that will prevent them from ever wanting to see this act.

I believe that art itself encourages us to challenge our own boundaries. People view art, not only for its ability to be visually pleasing, but also its thought-provoking nature, allowing us to act differently when something confronts us.

For those who suspend, regardless of the reason, it becomes more than just an act you do. It is something that becomes a crucial part of your identity, so finding a way to bridge that gap is exceptionally important. Ask a suspension practitioner what their favourite part of suspending a first-timer is and often their response will be, “that first suspension smile”, the look on the suspendee’s face when their feet first leave the ground and the realization that they have done something that moments ago, they were more than likely telling themselves was entirely impossible. I can’t even count the number of times that I have facilitated a suspension for someone and later heard that their elation of self-empowerment had been crushed by some degree of strain within the relationship between them and their family, even though they found it to be a positive, uplifting experience. I don’t think suspension will ever be something that is completely off the taboo list, particularly in a society that is constantly seeking comfort, and rejecting the idea of pain having any positive connotations. Regardless, I love the idea that working with beautiful lines can create a piece of art that attaches to the hooks, facilitating the ability for people to see suspension for the beauty it has behind the eyes of the suspendee.