Tuesday, May 31, 2005

I Love Rollercoasters

I just got back from an appointment with a Counsellor due to concerns over my mental state.

I still haven't slept and was a bit giddy as a result, looking quite manic. Perfect. I wanted to play it up, develop a nervous tic perhaps, but I was reasonably well behaved, telling him about my ups and downs and arguing the finer points of death wishes and episodes of hedonism.

I told him that, since my last visit, I had made a bunch of new friends and I am no longer depressed. He asked how I had come into this new group and so I told him. He smiled broadly.

"I'd rather talk about that then the death wish", he said. I agreed. It is a more invigorating topic. So, we had a good, long visit and I told him about my work and how it is absolutely necessary for me to maintain my highs and lows as they produce better work.

This led to a discussion of my art practice in which he agreed that my volatile emotions are, indeed, integral to what I do and shouldn't be messed with unless they got too out of hand.

We joked about taping a session so that he could appear in some future show (he grew quite animated and I think it may actually be an offer! fingers crossed) and then I told him that I had this site and that if he wanted to know more about me, he could google me.

A., if you are reading this, I'm very pleased that you are here. Leave a comment or two, if you like, and be part of a work in progress.


I had a delicious evening last night, which started as a surreptitious, late night meetup and ended up in a tussle of abandon from which I was reduced to a sustained vowel. I am still humming it.

And then, I came wandering in this morning to an email from K. with questions and comments regarding the upcoming show and I am feeling to loose to worry. Yes, I hum to myself, the show will be fine. Better than fine. It will be a rousing success. Please don't wake me. I am dreaming aloud.

Monday, May 30, 2005

I Type My Talk

I can't stop sleeping today. It feels good.

I've been burrowing into my bed and doing the crossword puzzle and reading only the headlines in the paper.

I've also been chatting online with a person who lives in my own town. Have I lived online so long that this is my natural form of communication? I mean, I could pop by and visit. I wonder why I don't.

It is strange that conversations can be saved and re-read at a later date or read for the first time by other eyes.

I found out today that someone has been signing onto my yahoo account and reading my archived conversations. What an odd feeling. Especially since I can no longer remember those conversations and have no idea what I said. I can't access my archive from my mac (unless someone out there knows of a way that I can) so, when I uncovered the spy, my first instinct was not to get angry. My first instinct was to ask him to send me all of my messages in emails so that I could read what I said.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

8 Mile Ranch

I got back today from my first play party and overnight camp out and I'm tired. I am also feeling quite inferior.

So many people were willing to put themselves out on display. I'm referring, not only to the openness of their bodies, but of their emotions, they're tears and their orgasms. And where was I while the sweet redhead writhed by the snack table in total abandon? I was sitting on a bench pushed against the back wall, watching, watching, watching. And waiting.

I was waiting for a change in me that would allow me to throw off my analytical shackles and become body. I was waiting for my skull to open fully, allowing for a better view of the stars. I wanted to expand but I was afraid to leave my role of spectator and embrace participation.

As usual, I am a disappointment to my own expectations of myself.

I was up all night with another spectator/would be participant and we talked until the talking was futile and then we kissed and it was lovely and soft and comforting. Imagine that. A plethora of bondage furniture and I choose an awkward car. It seemed strangely fitting.

I want to be hypnotized and forget myself.

Friday, May 27, 2005

My Sister's Shoes


Current bid:
GBP 16.00
(Approximately C $36.88)
Time left: 3 days 17 hours
10-day listing, Ends 31-May-05 12:32:12 EDT
Start time: 21-May-05 12:32:12 EDT
History: 4 bids (GBP 3.99 starting bid)
High bidder: User ID kept private


My sister is 18 and a student, she has had these shoes toooooo long. The shoes are UK size 5 From Dorothy Perkins.

The toes have been scuffed

The heels have GONE!!!!!

I have taken over 10 pictures which I will send To the winner via E-mail.

The shoes will be cleaned before sending:)

Feel free to e-mail with any questions

Happy Bidding!!

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Feet For Sale

These latex feet are available for the foot fetishist, courtesy of ebay. I've never really considered the market for phoney feet. Of course, with my latex allergy, they would be of no use to me.




Wednesday, May 25, 2005

You Are Getting Sleepy

Stare at the centre and relax. Try for 10 minutes to one half hour. You must be alone and in a quiet room without distraction.

Last night, I had my first skype session with an online hypnotist, T., who I had asked to trance me. I wanted to know if such a thing was possible and, if it was possible, I wanted to record a session in which my participant had complete control over me.

So far, not much luck.

T. told me that analytical people are more difficult to trance and so he wasn't sure how I would do. Anyway, it takes several sessions with the same tist to become more relaxed with them.

I asked T. if he was married and if his wife was into hypnosis and he said that they had gotten interested in it together a number of years ago but, while she quickly became bored with it, it became a major fetish for him.

T.has turned to the internet to satisfy his craving for hypnotic power. There are a few rooms in yahoo dedicated to Erotic Hypnosis and he frequents these. He claims to have tranced many women from these rooms, some through text messaging alone.

I asked him how he could be sure that the women weren't faking it and his confidence shook a little. I could hear it in his voice. I'm sure he's thought of that many times which made me consider how much they depend on one another.

Write On Me

As is often the case with my projects, I have been outdone by my participants. I am a waiting stage. I am public television. I am karaoke.

Mostly, I Think Of Others

The space between me and someone else may contain the answers to my questions about myself and about them. I move in that space. I try to relate, through stories, through touch. I give in the hope of something returned.

Through performance, text and video, I explore the relationship between myself and others. In exploring these relationships, I am also questioning the feasibility of employing art as a device in the conveyance of sincere emotion.

My concern about the power relationship between artist and viewer has led me to consider alternative methods of interaction and documentation. While I understand that the structure of performance necessitates the implementation of such power dynamics (the artist is more or less in control of, at least, the initial stages of the performance), I attempt to mitigate the effects through the active, voluntary, participation of the audience in a spirit of collaboration and cooperation.

I want to be sincere. I want to tell the truth. I want to share my feelings, to say something deep. I want to affect you. I want to watch you being affected by what I say, what I do. I want to give you a gift and I want you to thank me for it.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The ABC's Of CBT


L. has a collection of CBT devices, one of which is pictured above. It was one of my favorites last night - so industrial and bulky. If you want to have a look at the item in use, send me an email and I'll send you your very own Anne Walk digital file document of the performance.

A couple of other devices were made of leather and lined with sharp little spikes that dug into the delicate flesh. One of these pieces allowed for the addition of weights. Very heavy weights. Not quite Bob Flanagan but, still, interesting to inflict.

Something I didn't get pictures of is my use of a tens unit. Holding the controller in my hands was a heady feeling - something I could easily get used to. I would like to get permission to video tape a performance using the tens but it's difficult to get a volunteer that doesn't mind being recognized. Volunteers?

I was hoping to write about how I felt when I was dominating this willing partner, but I don't think I can right now. I need to think about it. I need to do it again.

Monday, May 23, 2005

The Hunt Continues...

This is today's correspondence with Tony P. I am going out tonight for my Domme torture lessons but will keep you posted on further developments.
Miss Mew wrote:

i am, indeed, still around. curious that you should send me a message today. very curious indeed.


Tony P wrote:

and do tell, why would that be?


Miss Mew wrote:

Tony P.,

i was just going through our past correspondences last night and wondering what had happened to you and who you really are. i want to know your story, Tony P. Tell me a story.


Tony P wrote:

interesting...out of the blue today i came across it too...a story then it shall be...you are such an intriguing presence Miss Mew......stay tuned...Tony

The Hunt For Tony P


Last year, I had a porn site. It was my goal to try out various fetishes as I came across them and document them through images, stories and interviews with fetish practitioners. I think I only made it to four fetishes before I fizzled out.

I attempted to create Miss Mew in the image of the online "Pro" Dommes. I incorporated a Tribute button so that my admirers could send me money via Paypal unsure of what I would do if there was a response.

Enter Tony P.

I began receiving tributes of twenty-five dollars U.S. from someone by the name of Tony P. I had never had contact with him in the chat rooms before and so I assumed that he was hoping to speak with me there. His profile was blank and offered no clues as to his identity. I started seeing his name come up in the rooms and would acknowledge his presence, but he seldom said anything beyond a lukewarm greeting.

I thought, perhaps he wanted to see me on cam and so I invited him to view but his only response was a mild thankyou. This was disconcerting and affected my cam performances. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Was he eagerly ogling my every move or was he making fun of me? I became leery and avoided running into him as best as I could.

After five payments of twenty-five dollars U.S., Tony vanished.

I'm bringing this up for two reasons. The first is, the Tony saga will be featured in the TPW show and so I have been going over all of the documentation. The second (and more disturbing) reason is that Tony P. has resurfaced this afternoon. This is his message:
are you still around Miss Mew?....what are you up to? Hope all is well...Tony
Quite innocuous on first inspection but the timing is...well...curious.

Tony P, if you are reading this, I would love to hear your side of the story!

Sunday, May 22, 2005

The Show Approaches...

...and we are deciding on layout. Being a few thousand kilometres away from the gallery, I feel hopelessly out of the loop. At least I won't be at the opening if the show bombs. If it goes well, the absence of my body will be mysterious. Yes. I like that. I must get a mask and cape. I'm sure that ebay has any number of them.

Kevin Hampson has graciously agreed to be technician for the webcam performances. That was my biggest worry and having him act as my hands is a relief. I love you, K.

Torture 101

I have entered into an agreement to meet up with L. tomorrow for instruction in toy usage for Domination. I'm quite thrilled at the prospect. I'm particularly interested in small torture devices - things with intricate mechanisms. So much thought goes into their making.

Before I begin, I have been asked to fill out a Playlist. It's very thorough. I encourage you to go through it yourself and decide where you stand on these important issues. Do you really know how you feel about Catheterization? Now's your chance to find out!

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Feeling The Burn



I have a latex allergy. I can see that this may pose a problem with my new project.

Meanwhile, I've been scouting ebay for fetish items. There are some good finds on there and I managed to win two auctions. Should the items in question arrive, I will post some pics.

I am thinking of applying for an artist's grant for more purchases. Hmmm....which category fits best? I must start documenting.

Speaking of which, I was approached by a couple in the group to take pictures of scenes. I am very thrilled to be chosen for this task. I will have to negotiate some sort of tit for tat arrangement.

Everything I say has become a dirty pun.

Is There An Alchemist In The House?

I have just returned from the home of L. and M., a lovely couple I have recently met. I was beginning to think that I have been overdoing it lately, spreading myself to thin, but I'm glad that I went. It was a relaxed and informal evening.

We enjoyed some great conversation over a sizable bag of toys. As we pulled each item from it's hiding place and laid them on the bed, I began to wonder about the structure of my life and about morality and societal norms and my mother and dissolving boundaries.

Could the sense of calm surrounding these people be a result of bedroom alchemy? Can I, with the use of the elements and a well weighted flogger, achieve peace in place of longing or is it only another religion, replacing God and Art with Pain and Orgasm?

Friday, May 20, 2005

Just Another Post

I feel awful for missing posting days. I don't know why I feel awful. Does it really matter if I post or not? You see, I'm trying to give myself an out. I've never stuck with anything for any length of time. I tend to get bored (frightened) of the routine (commitment).

Too many outings and I'm exhausted. I miss the lazy comfort of my digital life. I took a sleeping pill a couple of days ago and have been sleeping, on and off, ever since.

I don't know what I've been thinking this past while. What must I do to impress myself? When will I put my foot down and tell myself that enough is enough? If history is any indication, it will be after a hard and willful fall.

And, speaking of trying to impress, I have to come up with text for the upcoming show. Could I not just send them a body part and be done with it? Nothing big, mind you, but something that shows dedication - all of my eyelashes carefully placed in a line.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Schnitzel Princess


I made this flogger out of a cheap synthetic hair wig found in a dollar store, the handle out of a basting brush and black electrical tape. I think it turned out pretty well. I've always enjoyed craft projects.

I spent the rest of yesterday with K. and M. We went to Kelowna and to dinner at a nice restaurant in Peachland. I had the Schnitzel Princess. Then it was back to their place to storm my moral bastille and, afterwards, a cup of tea and some pleasant conversation.

I'm still trying to digest everything that has happened over the last few days and what it means to me. I initially wanted to define the space between "me" and "you". Instead, I find myself expanding, my belly full of fresh ideas. I am eating my world and it tastes good.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

The Swing Set

Last night, I ended up at the home of K. and M. for dinner, conversation, and play. It was rather odd being the innocent party. It's a situation that I have been unfamiliar with for quite some time. And, horror of horrors, I fear that I was a sore disappointment.

I had never (knowingly) been invited to the home of swingers. They looked like such nice, ordinary people. And I felt like an impostor. I gave them my card, which now seemed trite compared to the bondage wall before me. Who am I trying to kid with my antics? Miss Mew, indeed!

My outrageousness is a matter of context.

I must hurry now and change. They are not finished with me yet. I'm afraid that they will try something for real. I'm am equally afraid that they won't.

Sunday, May 15, 2005



hotamanda (pics on profile)

aglow in the cool cam light
click for more, you say
and i do and i do
clicking the thumbnail trail

credit cards happily accepted.

a minute spent and more
and more and more
and i couldn’t stop now if
i wanted to.

o0(i don’t want to stop)

leaning into the screen
i can smell you sweet
amanda, kind
amanda, more
amanda. turn
a little to the right
amanda, yes.

like that. just like that.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

At A Certain Pub

I went out tonight and sat among happy couples holding each other and whispering the things that happy couples whisper to each other and I hated them all.

Next week, I do it again.

My Card

my card

Friday, May 13, 2005

Back Room At The Barley Mill

Last night, I went on an adventure. I met up with a group of strangers at a restaurant and we talked for several hours about a variety of things I'm not at liberty to divulge. One of the participants was a Known Figure. I recognized his face from the papers and got confirmation during conversation. Sadly, it was not Stockwell Day, our nefarious Alliance/Conservative MP. I've got my fingers crossed however. Let's just say I have a feeling...

I was unfamiliar with the practice of handing out business-type cards at these events. That, certainly, was not in the brochure. Needless to say, I was unprepared. I'm meeting others tomorrow and will need to put something together before then. If I manage it, I will post my card design.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Strip Show

Melissa Ichiuji, Stripped, 36 hour performance
Corcoran Gallery of Art

Melissa Ichiuji has doffed her possessions during the course of the show, in a ritualistic act of self-abasement. She sits on her little cement platform, on a busy street corner, on the front grounds of the Corcoran Gallery in Washington DC, dressed only in a white bra and matching white lounge pants. She does not interact with her audience because (according to the Washington Post article) "art isn't supposed to talk back". She sits (although the Post shows a picture of her stretching, her arms above her head like a Odelisque) and writes in her journal about the experience:
"I think many times a day about the suffering and grief being experienced by millions of people while I enjoy myself eating expensive food, buying lavish clothes,"...
Ichiuji says that she is facing her fears of poverty. If the piece was truly about sacrifice and letting go of consumption, she might not be consuming (and being consumed by) an art identity and would, instead, get off of her pedestal and join the others on the street, in an outfit not quite so coordinated. This is not about sacrifice. This is about the (heroic)idea of sacrifice.
"I decided that for 16 weeks I would try to do something that I thought I couldn't. I wanted to stop being so dependent on external things for comfort and security," reads a statement given out by Corcoran staff. "I wanted to break patterns of behavior, attachment and consumption that, over the years, had become automatic responses to anxiety and boredom."
Ichiuji speaks of the realization of her dependence on objects to give her security and about how much this dependence bothered her. Has she merely switched her coping mechanism from chocolate to performance art? Both offer a delightful endorphin high. Besides, after the 36 hours is up, she can have all of the chocolate she wants and a documented venue for her cv.

I know that I'm a purist and the simplistic beauty of this piece is...well....beautiful. I like simple. I just don't think that it should be sold as a product of suffering. Would her (aped) nothingness still be "poignant" if she was one of the many bag ladies down the street?

A true sacrifice for an artist is to give up art. But then, she would truly have nothing. What a frightening thought.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Camera! Action!

When we feel that our lives are out control, we devise methods of management. In my case, I tell a story, I take a picture, I frame things.

I use Art as a coping mechanism. When something bad is happening and I feel powerless to stop it, I consider my audience and how to best package the experience for the entertainment of others. I think about angles. I become a director.

As I mentioned earlier, Sophie Calle said that she only feels compelled to display the negative experiences she has in her life. She said that she didn't think her audience would find happiness interesting. Maybe, like me, she lives the happy moments and directs the unhappy ones.

The Breakup

knight: did you leave without saying anything??
pomoartchick: no i didn't. i'm still here
knight: I am not trying to make things difficult....I just dont know if we are just never to speak...I dont want you to think I am ignoring you.....I am trying to give you some space
pomoartchick: i don't want to pretend that everything is alright when it's not.
knight: I do know that everything is not right
knight: but you have been very cold on the computer....does that mean we are not to be friends either??
pomoartchick: i have alot of anger over everything that's happened. part of that anger is your inability or refusal to acknowledge your part in things. it is hard for me to be friends because of this.
knight: I have acknowledged my part in things...and I accept the blame for it
knight: and why was it ok to be friends when I was there, and not now??
pomoartchick: i dont' want to talk about this. it will only end in a fight. suffice it to say, that was not about friendship. it was about slipping into old patterns because i am scared and lonely. i don't want to do that again.
knight: you never seem to want to talk about anything.....how does anything ever get resolved.....you cant keep avoiding issues............and i dont believe the second part.......
pomoartchick: of course you dont' believe me. i tell you how i feel and you choose to ignore it or argue it. that is why i don't want to talk about it. nothing gets resolved. nothing ever has in all of the time we have been together.
knight: when we kissed that weekend.....it was nothing to do with old patterns
pomoartchick: that was the scared and lonely part. for me, anyway. i so desparately wanted to believe that i wasn't going to be alone. i wanted to pretend that things could change. but they can't. in the back of my head were all of the things that made me so unhappy in our relationship. and i know that if we stayed together, it would always be that way. it would just get worse and worse. and i'm so tired of starting over and i'm tired of feeling like shit. i wanted one imaginary night. and i got it.
knight: yes you got it.......you should be very pleased with your self
Yahoo! Messenger: knight has signed out

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Shortcomings of Motherhood

Talked to K. last night and he said that he found my Mother's Day e-card to be "Dark". I suppose some might see it that way. I consider it to be both accusation and confession as well as an indication of future fears.

I took my son out for lunch today for his birthday. That I created three humans, and that two of them are now adults, is astounding to me.

I don't usually talk about my kids in an art context. I don't know if I'm protecting them from the cruelties of art world cattiness or if I am protecting them from my sordid existence. Maybe I'm protecting myself from their disapproval. I don't know.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Happy Mother's Day

mother's day card

Saturday, May 07, 2005

A Day In The Life

May 7, 2005

Today's activities:

Went for a very long walk and was very sore.
Stopped off at the mall and bought perfume.
Put on perfume and smelled myself.
Received a phonecall from my mother concerning current disaster stories.
Skyped with K. for two hours solid, discussing art, life, and failure, in no particular order.
Cammed with various unknown entities. See pic above for details.
Made tentative agreement to have myself hypnotized.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Controlling Spyderman's Underpants

My two favorite yahoo messages of this evening:

spyderman_underpants: is a 'cute little boy' who might be suseptible to your powers of persuasion ....

slave2remotecontrol: hello. would you be interested in controlling a slave's pc? monitoring and deciding what slave is allowed to install and delete and whom he talks to? what sites he is able to visit? owning slave's yahoo account?

Holga Vs. Melancholytron

The Bubble, Jersey City, New Jersey
taken with a Holga camera using Kodak 400TX film
holly northrop

Thanks to Karen of Fluid Thinking, I'm now checking out Holgas. They seem fun but I still prefer the homemade pinhole cameras.

I've been thinking about how the effects of low end and/or outdated technologies are mimiced in programs like Photoshop. Lens flares, scratches, pinholes, etc - all are available with a few clicks. Digital files can be converted into negatives and printed out on photo paper, thwarting notions of purity and authenticity.

Are artists who utilize these new filtering tools producing fakes? Does it depend on whether or not they advertise their methods of making? Does it depend on whether or not the use of these filters is central to the underlying concepts? northrop's above photograph might have been done using the Melancholytron filter. Does it matter?


Received this call in my inbox and thought I'd pass it along to any who would care to join:

Calling all artists, designers, net art dilettantes, photoshop junkies,
pixel pushers, collage artists, photographers, culture jammers,
charlatans, and pranksters... you are invited to kollabor8.

The general rules of the system are as follows:

Each chain is meant to be an open digital image mutation collaboration,
displayed like threads in a forum. Each link in the chain should be in
some way a derivative of the previous image.

Members can participate in 2 ways.

1) Add to a chain by: Download the last image in a chain, work on it for
a short time in software of choice, then upload new image to the same

2) Start a new chain: Upload artwork, digital photos, scans, or other
images of your own, with the understanding that you are inviting other
members to start mutating the image.

All images must be 640 x 480 jpeg files.

Members are not able to upload a direct mutation to their own image, to
encourage collaboration.

A system of credits is in place to encourage growth of chains. Credits
allow you to start new chains. You start with 2 credits, earn 1 new
credit for every 5 images uploaded to other chains.

Suggestions are always welcome. Please do participate freely and often
have fun! Feel free to forward this notice to any persons or lists who
might be interested.

Best Regards,

Corey Eiseman

Thursday, May 05, 2005

He Likes Pictures

Just looking, he says to himself, and pushes them back under the bed.

Soon he will have all of the pictures - every one that was ever taken. Soon, he will have enough.


Threadless. I like. I'm not a t-shirt designing type of person but, for all of you that are, or just like to wear t-shirts, make/wear these!

Making Tools For Making

I like this paper pinhole camera that mimics the look of a more solid model. The instructions can be found here and include a PDF file with the pattern. Print it out, cut it out, fold and glue. It hold rolls of 35mm film. B&W and colour!

I want to find a wood worker who will build me this 4X5 film camera:

Here's a 4X5 out of foam core:

If you are interested in exploring making your own pinhole cameras, you may want the PinholeCalc - a free Mac program for figuring out things like f-stop, focal length, pinhole diameter, etc, based on film speed.

And now, my favorite:

I'm a bit of a purist and so, when I came across the website of Thomas Hudson and saw his wonderful concept, I was smitten. Hudson's pinhole cameras are made from the photo paper itself. Hudson constructs the cameras in total darkness. After he has taken his picture, he goes back into the dark and pours chemicals directly into the camera to develop it. Once developed, the camera is unfolded and becomes the image. Beautiful. Go See.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Boot Lovin'

boot lovin1


Killer Bees!

In a true blending of fiction and reality, we now live in a television, complete with commercials.

Forget about product placement in movies and athletes sporting logos. BzzAgent goes one step further in the advertising game - hiring average joes to insert advertisements into day to day conversation via "buzz".

Imagine standing in an elevator with someone who starts up a conversation about their shoes, or going to dinner at a friend's house and getting a sales pitch about the chicken sausages she's feeding you.

From the Bzz website:
The first priority is to deliver authentic Bzz, or information and opinions, to other people. Of course, this should happen naturally in a cool, unforced way. You know how you can stop listening when you think someone is trying to sell you something? Well, other people do too. Stay natural!...

A BzzAgent watches other people and adapts to them. Keep in mind that you're constantly sending messages to the people around you, from what you say to the products you use. Bzz is an every day part of interacting with different people!...

You're our eyes and ears!...
One thing I'm having a hard time understanding about this "movement" is why anyone would sign up to participate. The advertising company makes money off of the their clients. The clients make money off of sales of their products. The BzzAgents, the one's who are doing all of the selling, are the only unpaid pieces of the puzzle. Even carnies get paid to shill! What gives?

Sure, BzzAgents receive product rewards, but they have to do a hell of a lot of work in order to get them. They have willingly converted themselves into twenty-four hour spokesmodels by buying into the notion that they are part of an anti-advertising campaign. The website refers to them as Volunteer Brand Evangelists.

And, not only will these agents extoll the virtues of Suze Orman's latest book, they will also report back on your reactions and purchasing patterns. Like a government snitch line, all conversations are fodder for The Central Hive. Spooky.

Concerning Chunky Fresh

Chat is an ongoing narrative that is written as it is read as it is written. It could also be described as a fantastic reality, blurring together the real and the imagined. Today, in PM:
chunkyfresh23: can i tell u a sexual secret?
theonemissmew: alright
chunkyfresh23: i want to suck on my little sisters feet
chunkyfresh23: should I?
theonemissmew: her feet in particular? or anybody's feet?
chunkyfresh23: hers
chunkyfresh23: is that bad?
theonemissmew: probably
chunkyfresh23: she is sleeping with no socks on
chunkyfresh23: u think i would wake her?
I sometimes get these types of messages and they create a dilemma. Is this person referring to a "real" sister or is he roleplaying? Since all chat contains elements of roleplay (id, avatar, profile, etc), there is no way to know. Would I be coauthoring a story or complicit in an assault?

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Death By Skylab

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the story of the man who left nothing behind but a foot in a slipper. Supposedly, he died of Spontaneous Human Combustion while on the toilet. My father kept a book of supernatural occurrences in the bathroom and, each time I went in, I studied the picture of the old man's slippered foot lying on the cold tiled floor. I wondered if there was anything left in the toilet - any sign of his final act of life - but the picture didn't show the bowl.

I became obsessed with bizarre deaths. On the way to school, I fantasized that a piece of Skylab would hit me and leave nothing but a smoldering crater. I would be a headline item on the CBC. My mother would cry for the camera.

We had heard stories in the news at that time, my friends and I. Technology was falling to earth. You never knew when your number was up. Anything could happen. Satellites, airplanes.

A woman lept from a plane and her shoot didn't open. She landed on someone's front lawn and made a person shaped impression in the ground. She survived it and thought it was a miracle. She was on numerous talkshows.

I'm thinking about these things today because I was at the doctor's and he asked me if I had ever thought about dying. Not suicide, I said. It would be an accident. Unforeseeable. Inevitable. Ball lightening through the telephone line. A runaway train. A slippered foot.

Sunday, May 01, 2005


Checked out Hoogerbrugge's Modern Living/Neurotica Series today. They are short, looping, mostly interactive flash animations that remind me of some stuff that J. did in school. Alot of them are unmemorable but, once in a while, there's a little gem. Then, I went on to the rest of the site and found some nice desktop wallpaper with knives and stuff on it.

Post Media Anxiety

Lev Manovich offers some articles on his website, available as word docs. I've been reading them and came across one, Post Media Aesthetics, that talks about the outdated art structure and it's reliance on medium. Here are some excerpts so that you get the general idea:
In the last third of the twentieth century, various cultural and technological developments have together rendered meaningless one of the key concepts of modern art – that of a medium. However, no new topology of art practice came to replace media-based typology which divides art into painting, works on paper, sculpture, film, video, and so on. The assumption that artistic practice can be neatly organized into a small set of distinct mediums has continued to structure the organization of museums, art schools, funding agencies and other cultural institutions -- even though this assumption no longer reflected the actual functioning of culture.

...As artists begun to use the technologies of mass media to make art (be it photography, films, radio art, video art, or digital art), the economy of art system dictated that they use technologies designed for mass reproduction for the opposite purpose – to create limited editions. (Thus visiting a contemporary art museum we find such conceptually contradictory objects as “video tape, edition of 6” or “DVD, edition of 3.”) Gradually, this sociological difference in the distribution mechanisms, along with other sociological differences already mentioned (the size of an audience and the space of reception/exhibition), became more important criteria in distinguishing between mediums than the distinctions in material used or conditions of perception. In short, sociology and economics took over aesthetics.

...And if one can make radically different versions of the same art object (for instance, an interactive and non-interactive versions, or 35mm film version and Web version), the traditional strong link between the identity of an art object and its medium becomes broken. On the level of distribution, the Web has dissolved (at least in theory) the difference between mass distribution, previously associated with mass culture, and limited distribution previously reserved for small subcultures and the art system.

...despite the obvious inadequacy of the concept of medium to describe contemporary cultural and artistic reality, it persists. It persists through sheer inertia – and also because to put in place a better, more adequate conceptual system is easier said than done. So rather than getting rid of media typology altogether, we keep adding more and more categories: “new genres,” interactive installation, interactive art, net art. The problem with these new categories is that they follow the old tradition of identifying distinct art practices on the basis of the materials being used - only now we substitute different materials by different new technologies.

I think that there is a general blurring of boundaries in all areas of society and, one of the reasons that art has become (arguably) less relevant as a critique of contemporary society, is because it "no longer reflect(s) the actual functioning of culture".

Then again, during times of perceived crisis, societies become nostalgic for a "return to order" and, perhaps, the backlash against conceptualism and the subsequent nostalgia for a return to modernism's comforting assertions is a reflection of this societal angst. Did we ever get over our teenaged need for parental boundaries?

A Curious Son

I received this message last night:
acuriousson: How would you react if over time you notice your son taking on more and more of the day to day responsibility around the household, while your husband was seemingly unaware your son was subtly becoming the dominant male in the home.
Also, on a follow up note, choccies whitestar was in the room. I thought there would be some drama but, alas, there was none. Another succussful sex change operation in the yahoos.