#storytelling is a mask and that's what makes it beautiful. accessible and appropriable.

[angstics]

foundations has no characters. HE was there the day the towers fucking fell

[shirlleycoyle]

A Dominatrix Reviews ‘Bonding,’ Netflix’s Show About a Dominatrix

On April 24, the day Netflix released its original series Bonding, my dad texted me.

“GOD DAMN IT. There’s a new Netflix comedy about a dominatrix,” he said. “I told you to write it.” I had already heard it was bad, but as a dominatrix who is invested in how my profession is portrayed by the media, who was I not to binge watch it and cringe?

Having worked as a dominatrix for over nine years, I have watched as BDSM has entered the mainstream. From 50 Shades of Grey’s fetishization of an abusive relationship, to the sensationalized and simplistic portrayal of a professional dominatrix in Netflix’s Bonding, it’s all bad. Even the title, which looks like it tried really hard to make a pun.

Writer and producer Rightor Doyle said that the show is based on his experiences as a dominatrix’s assistant: “The important thing about the show for me is we are exploring this world, but not exploiting it,” Doyle said in an interview with the NY Post.

But what is exploitation if not taking someone else’s story, boiling it down to stereotypes and telling it for them? The show purports to unpack the stereotypes of life as a dominatrix, but really just reinforces them at every turn. The main character is reduced to an archetype of an angry, traumatized woman who aggressively yells at men and is a control freak. Like most mainstream portrayal of BDSM, a nuanced understanding of power dynamics, consent and negotiation are utterly missing.

There is a movement and desire for by-and-for story telling (storytelling by the people portrayed, written for the people portrayed). The kink, sex worker, and queer communities are hungry for real stories that don’t sensationalize our lives. More and more sex workers are coming out of the closet and sharing stories about their lived experiences, such as the sex-worker-written web series Mercy Mistress.

Yet, rather than tell a nuanced and complex story that reflects the realities of a sex worker’s life, Netflix decided to release a sitcom about a sex worker, written by a gay man who doesn’t (openly) identify as a sex worker. A man who is just dipping his toe into his friend’s life.

In the first episode, Tiff (Zoe Levin), the dominatrix and main character, says, “Everyone thinks dom work is just about sex work. It’s really just liberation from shame.” While some people might find BDSM liberating or empowering, for most BDSM professional’s, the work that they do is exactly that: Work. Passing judgment values on different types of sex work contributes to stigma, violence and the classist upholding of the whorearchy.

One of the beauties of a professional BDSM session is the thought that goes into negotiation, and consent as an active process. Nowhere in this series is that present. In fact, it seems that Bonding operates in a world where consent is not only an afterthought, but something that doesn’t exist. Power is abused and consent is violated, and Bonding, like most other mainstream representations of BDSM, presents this as an accurate portrayal of kink community.

I was unable to suspend my disbelief as Tiff clearly has no understanding of bondage, BDSM or power dynamics. The bondage throughout the show was laughable and at times dangerous. Her whip looked like the one my dad bought for me from Hot Topic when I dressed as “catwoman” for Halloween when I was 15. She’s referred to as a “top NYC dominatrix,” but works out of a commercial dungeon with carpeted floors, wears a collar to sessions and has only has one pair of boots. To top it off, she has literally no understanding of negotiation and consent. A number of times throughout the series Tiff coerces Pete (Brendan Scannell), her assistant, into interacting sexually with clients regardless of him saying no. I doubt that Bonding had a BDSM or sex work consultant, and if they did, they didn’t listen to them, and if they did listen to them, they shouldn’t have. (Ed. note: Motherboard has reached out to Netflix for comment on whether the show had a sex work consultant, and will update if we hear back.)

There are some tender moments throughout the show, like when Pete is romancing his roommate’s foot before sticking his finger in his butt (but what about LUBE, man?) and when Pete and Tiff are laying in bed in latex masks to facilitate talking about their feelings.

But mostly, Bonding tries to be something that it’s not: An interesting, complicated, and nuanced portrayal of power dynamics in and out of the dungeon. The series is occasionally entertaining, but in a “schadenfreude for the filmmaker” kind of way.

LA-based dominatrix An-Li told me in a text, “People could argue that it’s a comedy and that it’s not entirely true to the point, it’s supposed to be zany, but you can have smart comedy that is based on reality and not just superficial stereotypes. Not doing research is just lazy.”

While some BDSM professionals say that all representation works to destigmatize our labor, most prodommes are in agreement, Bonding is a mediocre story where kink is the punchline. Coming out almost exactly a year after FOSTA-SESTA, legislation that worked to erase sex workers from the internet, was signed into law, seeing a mainstream platform profit off of our criminalized labor rubs salt in the wound. As our websites are disappearing, our accounts are being shadowbanned and our social media and fintech accounts are being deleted at alarming rates and whorephobic TOS are on the rise, who is allowed to be visible and tell their stories becomes an increasingly important issue.

(These policies also prevent community visibility in opposing policies that affect us and critiquing poor media representation of us. Upstate New York Dominatrix, Mistress Couple, recently had her Instagram live review of Bonding deleted from Instagram.)

In the second to last episode, there’s a scene that serves as a tight microcosm of this show. Brendan Scannell’s character, without his own story to tell, gets on stage at a stand up comedy club, in a gimp mask, and appropriates the story of his sex worker friend. Completely by accident, this is where Bonding is the most honest: a man utilizing his proximity to sex work for the story, rather than sharing his privilege and making room on stage for a sex worker to share their story.

Danielle Blunt is a NYC-based Dominatrix, a full-spectrum doula and sex worker rights activist. She studies power dynamics and researches the intersection of public health, sex work and equitable access to tech. Currently she is getting her Masters in public health. She enjoys watching her community thrive and making men cry.

A Dominatrix Reviews ‘Bonding,’ Netflix’s Show About a Dominatrix syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[morrisbrokaw]

The Truth About What’s in My Bag

I love those cutesy magazine articles, ‘What’s in Her Bag?!” Each person the magazine interviews always seem to carry cute trinkets and expensive beauty products that are completely unreasonable. Elsa Hosk, Swedish Victoria’s Secret model, carries $36 Shiseido lip sheen, a $100 de-puffing eye mask, and a bottle of $96 Bergdorf Goodman “Sleep Food” pills in her bag. Yes! Completely practical! While reading through these, it’s easy to fall under the allure that all women have their lives figured out. And, in the interim, I’m left feeling a little lost, unorganized, and poor (Writer’s Note: for tough audiences, I understand these articles may be fabricated and it’s not totally crazy that some people carry $30 lipgloss in their purse, simply trying to make a cute point).

Firstly, I carry a beat up and soft Duluth Pack the size of my head and it’s heavy. I think it weighs fifteen pounds on a good day. Second of all, everything in my purse is random, repetitive, and excruciatingly…dirty? I honestly have no idea where all the dirt came from. It is heinous. If I have to dig to the basement of my purse, my fingernails look like I scaled a mountain.

Which brings me to my point! On the outside, I think I look put together. At least how I like to imagine myself appearing put together: wearing pants that are clean, paying my rent on time, feeding my cat before he decides to suffocate me during a studious Netflix binge, and working on not over-nurturing my succulents. I have a good job. I do my very best to take care of my friends and family, and I’m learning how to budget, save money, and workout on a regular basis.

But that’s just the thing. We’re all lying to each other. On the outside, we can look put together, but it’s what’s within our insides that makes us who we are. Thus why I thought it would be appropriate to share with you the inner workings of my purse. It’s not fair to say I have it together. Because I don’t. And the proof is in the purse lining.

What’s in my bag:

An old coach wallet. Its insides hold just about every credit card + punch card I’ve ever owned, business cards from random networking events where I blind myself from my anxiety with bad Pinot Grigio, three MetroCards, a Fauntleroy – Vashon Washington State Ferry ticket, a hopeful ‘Buy One Get One Free Quarter Pounder’ receipt I kept after a sad trip to McDonald’s, and a half-eaten caramel.

Yes, the half-eaten caramel was re-wrapped and put back into my wallet.

Sour Heart, a glorious book (and the current one I’m reading) by Jenny Zhang. I’m super glad it’s currently in my bag because I should plug it anyway.

Giant purple Minnesota Super Bowl LII mittens that I never wear when I need to sweep the snow off my car. Instead, they smell faintly of stale coffee because I split an entire mug on my computer keyboard and wiped it up with them.

A can opener keychain with a mysterious beer logo on both sides.

A bottle of SPF 30 Ultra Sheer sunscreen that I’ve been putting on my hands in replacement of lotion for months now and the expiration date was sometime in 2016.

Two bottles of essential oils, one for Mental Clarity and one for Stress Recovery. Their directions: “Rub 1-2 drops on palms, cup over nose and inhale deeply 5 times. Sweep remaining oil over clothing or hair” (I find this charming).

A rock from the west coast that is slightly shaped like a heart, more so shaped like a rock from the west coast.

A screw and 18 bobby pins.

Brainspin, a game my fiance and I picked up during our road trip down the west coast. We had purchased it for $5 at Powell Books in Portland and played it in a jet lag haze during dinner. This card game has been in my purse since last May.

A birthday card still in its plastic wrapping for my mother. Her birthday was in November. Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry.

Two gift cards to Joe & Stan’s for $20. Joe & Stan’s is a dive bar my friends and I frequent regularly every Tuesday. We play trivia with against four other teams (on a good night) and the $20 gift card is the second place prize.

A Minnesota Craft Notes guidebook with one stamp within: Flat Earth Brewing (one of our favorites).

A Wings Financial Credit Union letter with my pin number and, on the back, detailed instructions by my fiance about how to make a balance transfer. It’s one thing I’m embarrassed to admit, but I deal very badly with money. And dammit this is bad for the patriarchy but I’m happy I am engaged to a finance guy, okay!!?

One…mitten. Not including the pair before.

A taco bell receipt that is longer than your average CVS receipt. No comment on what is within.

A hot pink doorknob (I wish I were kidding).

A set of NYPD playing cards.

Some Hot Hands hand warmers from when I worked the Super Bowl in February.

A tube of expired toothpaste.

A silicone beauty applicator.

Pennies, so many pennies. I have access to so much change. It’s all dirty. Why are all of these pennies so ridiculously disgusting??

A hair clip.

THREE MORE BOTTLE OPENERS. I really need to start considering if I have that high of a need for opening liquor in urgent circumstances.

TEN LIPSTICKS.

TEN PENS.

We can learn a lot about each other if we just take a minute to remember we all have a purse and a linen closet and a heart where nothing makes sense. We are all a little messy, unsure, and trying to get by with the simple movements of the day. Most importantly, no matter the show we’re flaunting on the outside, we all have a few dirty pennies, half-eaten caramels, and a hot pink doorknob hiding somewhere.

Brittany Chaffee is an avid storyteller, professional empath, and author. On the daily, she gets paid to strategize and create content for brands. Off work hours, it’s all about a well-lit place, warm bread, and good company. She lives in St.Paul with her 80-year-old cat, Butch. Read more about her latest book, Borderline, and go hug your mother.

    The post The Truth About What’s in My Bag appeared first on Wit & Delight.

The Truth About What’s in My Bag published first on https://workbootsandshoes.tumblr.com/

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Peace and Grief in the Art of US Veterans

Installation view, Not Alone: Exploring Bonds Between and With Members of the Armed Forces (photo by Phillip Maisel)

The San Francisco War Memorial Veteran’s Building hosts an eclectic group of arts organizations. For many years it housed the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, several theaters, the San Francisco Arts Commission (SFAC) gallery, and an array of Veteran’s organizations. Today the art museum is long gone, but several arts and veterans-service organizations remain.

Honoring and advancing the building’s legacy, SFAC Director Meg Shiffler and co-curator Jason Hanasik have installed a powerful new exhibition in the Arts Commission Gallery. Not Alone: Exploring Bonds Between and With Members of the Armed Forces forges a bridge between the public at large and the Bay Area veteran’s community. Organized thematically, the exhibition begins with work related to the Vietnam War but has a stronger focus on America’s many conflicts from the 1980s to the present, including those in Iraq and Afghanistan. Shiffler and Hanasik have included artworks made by veterans as well as by their siblings and spouses. It is a deeply affecting exhibition and one that has evoked a strong response from the community. “The veterans who attend have been moved,” Shiffler told me, “and many have been back multiple times to spend more time with the show.” She added that the SFAC staff has been doing significant outreach to the general population. “Unlike other exhibitions, we’re finding that most visitors want to engage with the staff in various ways. We are a municipal gallery dedicated to engaging artists and artwork in exhibitions that promote civic dialogue, and Not Alone is anchoring an incredible foundation of respect, information flow, and open dialogue.”

Installation view, Not Alone: Exploring Bonds Between and With Members of the Armed Forces (photo by Yuqing Max Luo)

A tremendous amount of thought has gone into this show. “This is not an exhibition about war or the military-industrial complex,” Shiffler said. “It is about people who have served — about their hardships, pride, fears, relationships, and so much more.” The timing of the exhibition is intentional as well: It opened around Veterans Day and will remain on display through mid-March — coinciding with the beginning of the Trump presidency. “The reason this exhibition is so important in this extremely political moment is that it provides access to a complicated and difficult subject matter through the vehicle of storytelling that intends to open up and bridge dialogue between civilians and those who have served, individual to individual.”

Suzanne Orton, from the “Soldier + Citizen” series (2005): Soldier Wright, 366 days in Iraq; soldier Jimenez, killed in Iraq; soldier Hipwell, 382 Days in Iraq; soldier Kubalewski, 390 days in Afghanistan (photo courtesy of the artist)

The journey through this exhibition is intense and demands some time. Though not exactly a joyful show, it is one filled with beautiful and affecting works. Photography in particular is a stand-out medium with which to express the profoundly mixed emotions of war and peace. Suzanne Orton’s large-scale black-and-white photos from the series “Soldier + Citizen” (2005) are close-up portraits of American soldiers in between deployments, each of whom is being gently touched or embraced by a loved one. The hard, unwavering eyes of the soldiers looking away from the camera are a sharp contrast to the soft hands that touch their faces, hair, and necks, as if the warmth of a loved one’s embrace could break the spell of war. These are clearly posed portraits, and each has a delicacy and elegance of design that belies the underlying sadness of the subject.

Jessica Hines, from “My Brother’s War” (2008) (photo courtesy of the artist)

Jessica Hines’ project “My Brother’s War” (2007–16) is the artist’s sensitive attempt to reconcile and artistically reconnect with her brother, who committed suicide 10 years after his return from Vietnam. Using his letters and “souvenir” photos from the 1960s, Hinds went to Vietnam to retrace her brother’s steps. She has combined his now-vintage photos with imagery from her trip and snippets of his letters to create a visual narrative that weaves their two stories together. Many of the photos have the slightly “blasted” look of overexposed Kodachrome, and often the light is deliberately a bit too harsh, the color a little off-kilter. But the imagery is delicately constructed — echoing, perhaps, the elusive nature of memory. As part of the gallery’s ongoing public art installation along Market and Van Ness Streets, the curators have used these images to create 36 posters for outdoor public display on kiosks  Printed large, they look like an almost psychedelic journey.

One of the most original projects in the show is by ceramicist Ehren Tool, who enlisted in the Marines in 1989 and served in both the Desert Shield and Desert Storm conflicts. After his discharge, Tool used the GI Bill to go to Pasadena City College and the University of Southern California. He then went on to receive his MFA at UC Berkeley in 2005.

Ehren Tool working in his studio surrounded by finished cups (photo by Yuqing Max Luo)

Tool has set up a potter’s studio in the SFAC gallery. He is in residence almost every weekend, throwing hundreds of cups, which, at the conclusion of the show, he will give away to the public. Onto these prosaic objects, he collages the imagery of war. Tool has invited the pubic to bring him imagery of violence, war, and trauma, as well as advertisements and ephemera of popular culture and news. Personal memorabilia from strangers and other veterans are turned into decals and used to decorate the surface of the vessels. Glazed with very typical ceramic colors — blue, brown, terra cotta — these cups seem ordinary, but when you look closely at them, the subject matter that emerges grabs at your heart. I asked Tool why he made cups and his answer was as eloquent as the work is powerful:

Peace is the only adequate war memorial. Everything else is at best a failure and usually something that glorifies war. I started making paintings and drawings and prints about the surreal experience of going to war and coming home and seeing your gas mask sold as a toy for children ‘ages 6 and up.’ Somehow, for me, the cup seems the appropriate scale to talk about war: hand-to-hand, person-to-person. Things get confused with scale. A cup is personal. Stalin said one death is a tragedy but a million deaths is a statistic. I think a million war dead is an incalculable tragedy. Making cups is a pretty small gesture in the face of all that is going on around the world, but it is what I have. I don’t think anything I do will change the world, but nothing in the world releases me from my obligation to try.

In a separate area of the gallery, Shiffler and Hanasik have installed a show within the show: a separate but related project entitled The Exquisite Corpse of the Unknown Veteran organized by Jeanne Dunning and Aaron Hughes. Within a highly structured set of guidelines, the curators asked 90 artists (both veterans and non-veterans) to play the Exquisite Corpse game: Three artists each worked on a total of 30 drawings, each one illustrating a different part of the same human image. The critical point here is that each artist was tasked with drawing the body parts of a real person, someone dead or alive who had been in war. The results are visually beautiful, but once you understand the details of the game, a chill runs up your spine. They are literally exquisite corpses.

“The Exquisite Corpse of the Unknown Veteran,” organized by Jeanne Dunning and Aaron Hughes, ongoing (photo by Phillip Maisel)

All in all, Not Alone is a very ambitious undertaking. I admire the curators’ commitment to an often overlooked segment of the Bay Area community, and in the midst of this incredibly divisive time, any attempt to bring disparate groups together in conversation is welcome. It helps that the level of discourse presented here is sophisticated, respectful, well-curated, and emotionally rich.

Not Alone: Exploring Bonds Between and With Members of the Armed Forces continues at San Francisco Arts Commission War Memorial Veterans Building (401 Van Ness Avenue, Suite 126, Civic Center Historic District, San Francisco) through March 18.

The post Peace and Grief in the Art of US Veterans appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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