written and directed by Joe Woodward
In cyber space where you can dream your worst nightmares can come true
LIGHTS UP on Artaud in a Cell with a computer.
I have learnt that the new art of Western culture, the dominant world culture, is pornography. The Internet was created as an instrument of death for the military. Now it is an instrument of sex and porn. Where once the artist as High Priest painted in blood, he now paints with his own seminal fluid and the fluid of others. That fluid was transported through electricity and formed a union with the instrument of death to form a sexual magnet to which all our culture gravitates while at the same time denying its influence and hold over it. And to put it neatly, I have to say it is the one art form that moves and stimulates the very psyche away from the mundane world of frightened existence. That liberation of the senses where sex and spirit meet, is pornography. It is that encapsulated moment where sex can be quantified and offered &ldots;and sold to you like soap or bread. And the artists know this. Though they keep this information hidden within themselves; and sometimes from themselves. Haven't you noticed?
I went to a gallery the other day and there on the wall were photographs, taken by an old friend, of flowers protruding from a woman's vagina: pruned roses, violets and death white lilies. I think it was called "Birth" or "Realization" or something. I once knew the artist. She was one of those lost women of the twentieth century; forever lamenting her existence and her sorry relationship to the universe. And in her exhibition she gave birth to flowers as a statement of her mortality and connection to ancient earth. She now runs workshops for women to unleash the power of the vagina: to take possession of their sex and claim it back from its appropriation by men and its commodification by industry and business. She has plenty of participants lining up for this process of psychic cleansing. And all around the walls of the gallery she presents the empowered vaginas of her clients: and through each one, a kind of birth takes place.
Now of course, there is a commercial element in all of this. And the commercial element is what got my friend Stafford Myers into a lot of trouble. Cost him his job even. You see, the exhibition of empowered vaginas was placed on a website for promotional purposes. Each person's vagina was, of course, anonymous. Such images were soon collected under the common banner of "pornography". My friend, Stafford, happened to be surfing around the Net at his workplace. Now do you get the picture &ldots; a very silly thing. But he downloaded the empowered vaginas with flowers etc., and he was sacked.
Artistic vaginas or not! Empowering statement or not! They were vaginas. And thus pornography! Any porn searching software will show you that the very word "vagina" is pornography and thus "inappropriate" material for downloading. So anyway, Stafford lost his job.
Having said Stafford was my friend, I think I'd better qualify that statement. You see, I never met Stafford Myers. I have never spoken directly to him. But I have come to know him very well. Perhaps one day he will come to know me. Though I'd prefer this never happens. So how do I know Stafford Myers? Through this &ldots; My computer. I access his computer and his perverted little mind. He made it very easy for me, as he also installed a surveillance camera that enters images from his home directly into his hard drive. He doesn't know I access him. He's really pretty naïve! Poor guy! Wouldn't you think that after being sacked he'd realize he's a target? I mean, if it wasn't me, it'd be someone else; some other instrumentality of social control acting in the public interest!
LIGHTS UP on Stafford in a constructed room..
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