I have been doing my usual perusal of magazine fodder today when the main feature of the latest edition of New York magazine caught my eye.
One of the Roxy Music tunes playing most constantly in my mind as I continue to explore, get engrossed by and positively hooked upon their early sound is “In Every Dream Home A Heartache”. How the song begins with the architecture of desire…the dream home…the concept, its look, its fitting within culture and then descends into unfulfilled sexual desire with a (what they were known as in Australia when I was growing up) a Suzi doll.
The most intrigue I had with the article was the view from the female perspective. A woman journalist was taking the visit to the “sexbotics” plant to meet new prototype, Henry. There is still this stigma and taboo attached to female desire for sex. That, somehow we don’t desire it ourselves. That we are either coerced or forced. And heaven forbid a woman should desire sex as much as men do. That women should work in the porn and sex industries WILLINGLY, etc.
Only recently I saw a brief video in which a lady was interviewed about her sex addiction. I can’t imagine having to suffer that endless scorn. Men are almost REVERED for having a sex addiction or admitting to one…perhaps at least just dismissed with an air of, “he’s a bloke! What do you expect? They think with their dicks anyway.” But a female sex addict? Yep. I had all the empathy in the world for that lady. It took guts to talk about so openly in the public domain. Deep respect to her.
I found the article fascinating. As for asnwering the question writer Allison P. Davis answered…would I? You bet ya sweet bippy I would! Hello, Henry 😉
I genuinely feel overwhelmed. Something is happening to me. I don’t understand it. I don’t know how this has happened. I don’t know WHERE it’s coming from…how it got here…what it is.
I hated art class at school because I sucked at it. I couldn’t draw to save my life and by the time I was in my teens, my skills hardly improved from when I was 5 or 6! Well, that is how it felt, anyway. All the other kids seemed to show SOME KIND of advancement in artistic skill. Not I!
And NOW?! Just…WHAT IS THIS? From being not able to draw ANYTHING well to THIS?!!
Very hard to achieve that iridescent gloss they have to their feathers…esp. with what is essentially watercolours…but I am much happier with this one today. Sadly, I seem to actually have BETTER control without the stylus. Ho hum! I’m AMAZED I can do bird eyes so well! Their legs on the other hand…
Practice, practice, practice! And patience! I need patience! I tend to rush too much I need to calm my sh*t down! Lol
I just have no words, really. I do them because I love it…doing something creative. I never thought I had it in me…but it’s all down to this app on my iPad Mini. And when there is time…a spare hour in the afternoon, when mum and I are having “down time”, that’s when I try to create one.
I can’t draw. I can’t paint. Well, I can paint by numbers! Lol. (I actually DO LOVE doing painting by numbers.) But I can recycle…augment…manipulate…and sometimes turn the lyrics into a visual interpretation.
I try to use a picture of Jim or the band time specific to the song (this picture of him was a screenshot from the 1984 Dortmund gig). I also try as much as possible not to use copyright images (hence the majority of pictures used are screengrabs from videos or live performances).
Whenever I feel down (which, mercifully doesn’t happen often) or whenever I doubt myself, (THAT happens MUCH more often!) I will read Jim’s reply to this post and pinch myself until I bleed (I wouldn’t actually do that…I’m just being a tad OTT! I’d pinch myself, DEFINITELY, just not until I actually bleed).
I still can’t believe it’s real. That he said something SSOO wonderful TO ME about my stuff. It’s just…there are not enough superlatives in the English language for it.
Beyond all the silly fawning fangirly stuff…beyond me finding him utterly beautiful…there is that artist appreciation. The wordsmith…the songwriter, giving ME praise for my art.
My “muse”, I suppose it can be deemed, loving what I do.