...and because her talent and pain go right through me.

Here, have a bit of Billie, for no other reason than because she really is the best...

Another non-commercial commercial break (it's been a while since the last one)

My friends Rebecca Clamp and huzzporter have joined forces to bring you a song (by Rebecca) about St. Wilgefortis, bearing her name, complete with an animated video (by huzz).

Come to think of it...why don't you watch this one, too - Rebecca's song Space Girl. I wish to claim my fifteen minutes of fame by letting slip I was her wardrobe/hairstyle/makeup/set assistant during the shooting. And I used to fit into the white dress she is seen dancing in.

RIP Ingmar Bergman...

Ingmar Bergman has died today. I really love The Seventh Seal and Fanny & Alexander...wish I could watch one of them tonight, in memory of a great artist.

Hurrah - she's mine

Do congratulate me, please. I have been chasing after this lady for the longest time.

A part of artist (and my friend) Mark Maher's "Digital Icons of Porn Models", I have wanted her for years - and he hasn't wanted my money. What sort of an artist is that? Today, I finally convinced him I am indeed well-enough off to purchase some art. (Or something - I don't know why he wouldn't sell her to me until now - I have been after her since 2001 or thereaboutsish.)

One more thing: a non-commercial commercial break

If you are (lucky and privileged enough to be) in the Greater Helsinki area, go and see Here Speaks Elektra, Theatre Naamio ja Höyhen's current production. I did, last night, and am still lost for words. It is good. For stunning visuals of the production and the process that lead up to it, see happeningfishes or keltanen's flickr sites. Above image is one of keltanen's - sorry man, I don't know why your site doesn't allow for direct linking to it?

This post is about orgasms

In the past few days, I have been scouring my bookshelves and the net, on an NMJ-related quest for a particular Eeva Kilpi poem (no luck yet honey, but still trying). I found something else instead, though, also in relation to a conversation on the blogging ether.

There was something The Periodic Englishman said in one of his unique comments that I have felt the need to come back to. Because his comments pages are typically fourteen feet long, I shall save you the scrolling trouble and quote him directly here:

"I could probably just as easily have written about sex, as music – and in particular, orgasms (I’m being serious) - because there are some striking similarities. There is an unbearable sadness in giving in to desire and in the obliterating moments of a sated lust. It can feel hopeless and weakening and enough to make you cry, and yet the potent allure of such physical release completely defies description. It is too good, too shatteringly wonderful, too very nearly transcendental and unbalancing, altogether. But God alive, it can make you feel blue."

Now, I am not going to go into an analysis of my orgasmic potential (come ON, what were you expecting?). However, I am and have always (well, adult life anyway) been intrigued by the strange connection between sexual pleasure and an art-induced ecstatic state. A religious/mystical experience would probably qualify here too. There is a losing of oneself, a letting go, an out-of-time-ness associated with these things which are difficult to come by otherwise. I was sorely disappointed in the stupidity of my reply to PE on this - as I recall, I said "yes", how eloquent is that - so I am pleased to have found a quote that says some of the things I would've said, had I found the words. It is an Eeva Kilpi quote (so there is a line of thought running through this rambling post, after all, as you can see):

Orgasmissa ikuisuus lakkaa hetkeksi merkitsemästä ja ihminen vapautuu tietoisuudesta ettei ole ikuinen.
In the orgasm, eternity ceases to matter for a moment, and the person is freed from the knowledge s/he is not eternal.

(Ah, the translation would be so much more stylish, if only English didn't have gender-specific pronouns...)

Anyway - Happy Easter, one and all.

PS Much later - Having received some valued assistance with my translation, I offer you draft two:

"In the orgasm, eternity ceases to matter for a moment, and the person is freed from the knowledge they are not eternal."

Much, much better, isn't it, thank you PE...

Coming Too Close to God, or How Art Knows the Meaning of Life. My attempt at explaining.

Tonight, I saw my second butoh show, Jyu Ningen Zu. I cried AGAIN. I cannot begin to describe the show, just details of

how the shadow of her hand momentarily looked like the shadow of a toothed snake, or a dragon, on the talcum powder in the bowl on stage,
how their footprints were black in the spilled powder and white on the black rubber mat of the theatre floor, creating a pattern that seemed to mirror the Japanese character painted onto the backdrop,
how suddenly we saw a headless woman dancing,
how his Oriental face seemed to simultaneously be that of a newborn, and an ancient, and an extraterrestrial, and the face of mankind condensed into one face,
how the powder bowl left a perfect blank in the spilled powder, like a black hole, like a negative sun, and how, incredibly, he managed to leave a footprint in it later

and impressions of
bodies talking and saying the unsayable things,
beautiful ugliness,
expanding the mind like lsd or Tarkovsky, as in "let's look at this bit of lichen floating in this puddle for a few minutes or aeons until we really see it and understand the meaning of everything",
leaving me afterwards needing to run home and hide
because

everything:
shop windows with hat shop dummies wearing fur hats which I hate, Nike trainers in glass display cases
the city of my birth, in its full between-seasons ugliness
bus indicator lights, on-off, on-off
the digital clockface on the side of a building (20:41, +1 C)
the names of shops (TIMBER HEART. NEW LOOK.)
suddenly wears a face of indescribable beauty and meaning, benign and terrible

and because

I am wearing God on my non-believer face and the passers-by will see Him, or I will see Him in their eyes

and because

my too-open soul cannot take any more seeing, no, no, don't show me any more, I can't take it, it's all too beautiful