READER BAMBALL AND THE IDEA OF LOSING ONE’S VIRGINITY IN PUBLIC FOR AN ART PROJECT:
‘At one level, losing your virginity has to do with a status change-a personal negotiation–of physical, spiritual & emotional intimacy, in the context of a specific personal relationship, usually one-to-one. That moment always happens somewhere on the pendulum between ultimate privacy (on one end) and ultimate public-ness (on the other). Expectations of public versus private now have been tweaked by porn sex, which is by nature a voyeuristic commodity–it’s all about audience, which changes the dynamic. The scene might look like it’s intimate between two people, but points of view, framing of views , position of body parts–it’s all manipulated for a third party who’s viewing in (who thinks they are part of the intimacy, but as soon as the video is over, the sad lonely realization is that they really weren’t part of any intimate relationship). That changes the degree of intimacy between the copulaters (hmm, there’s a word I should use more…).
No erudite conclusion here, just some thoughts to think while copulating with your fellow copulater(s).
Will artist Clayton ultimately feel that the greater intimacy–the artistic exchange– is between him and his partner, or between him and the voyueristic audience? So this could more than just two paint spattered copulaters on a stage, copulating in front of some guest copulatees. If something is being lost, than something has to be gained, too. There’s a lot of ways to think and deepen the idea of “losing”, “having”, “finding”, and “getting”. Thoughts about selling the tickets, marketing the experience, about framing the event and the expectations of the third party audience–what do they get out of this, how much of the “lost” virginity do they get to bring home? Do the two participants keep all the intimacy to themselves, even with an audience? What makes this more an art performance piece, than a porn performance, designed and created for a third party audience? Is there a sliding scale of ticket prices depending on the angle of sight to the stage–a “hard art Courbet-Origine” ticket section in the front row or on the stage; a “soft art Manet-Olympia” section in the back corner, where it’s harder to see the stage? So from Clayton & partner’s perspective, what degrees of these two different viewpoint seating areas gain more of the lost virginity? And where would the shrouded “burka sex” audience seating be, where the audience can’t look in, being denied a portion of intimacy, but Clayton & partner can look out, keeping all the intimacy, and power of intimacy to themselves? Art for the artist, or art for the patron? Who gets what and who keeps what?’