Is it Rape if it’s an art installation?

To say I am Sorry and truly mean it is, in many ways, the most vulnerable place anyone can be. What would you give of yourself to show someone that you truly are sorry? Would you do what Shia did and allow yourself to stay put and do nothing while people yelled at you, laughed, poked, whipped, fucked you?

(this is long and repetitive in parts..) Shia. Shia shia shia, child of Disney, plagiarism boy as some call him.. Great actor to some yet horrible chooser of movies to star in w/ corny lines and bad directing.. Rape Victim? Maybe? Yes? No? What do I think? What I think doesn’t matter but I’m going to say anyway. In the strictest of senses The only person he is a victim of is himself.  His naivety, his trust in humanity, his lack of planning… What if the one who said you couldn’t say no was yourself?   “I’m going to do sit here for x amount of time and let anyone do anything to me without doing anything to stop them.” Never mind any safe words, boundaries or a button or anything to call it quits to go to the bathroom. Did he not talk to anyone about this and not do a whole 20 questions deal? With his girlfriend or the other artists in the show? What if someone touches my penis? what if someone punches me in the face? What if someone picks my nose? What if someone pulls a hair out of my head? What if someone gives me a tattoo? What if someone pulls my clothes off? What if someone takes the whip I supplied and actually starts hitting me with it?  Everything else outside of using the bathroom or eating is free reign for whatever whoever wants to do.  If I did an installation art exhibit where I sat there and let anyone do anything to me, without any rules to follow, I have then given permission for the audience to do anything they want to me for the sake of art. Unless I tell them to stop. Telling them to stop would be, in some peoples’ view and even to the artist’s, interfering with the art. That, in and of itself, could be the point of the art.

Prior artists, Marina Abramovic, experienced this herself when she allowed the audience to do whatever they wanted with many items laid out which included a scalpel, a gun, a bullet, a whip (Shia had a whip)… 1) She put those there for a reason 2) It reminds me of Stanford Prison Experiment to see how far people would go 3) She felt violated but she allowed herself to go on to experience that by putting the things there, leaving it up to the audience in the first place and not stopping her art show shy of her 6 hour plan. “What I learned was that… if you leave it up to the audience, they can kill you.” … “I felt really violated: they cut up my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere.” Of course you’re going to feel violated by putting yourself fully out there for anyone to do with you what they want. People are f’d up. I don’t trust people that much. See how far people will go? Look at the group rapes of India w/ the men disemboweling women. People are fucked Up. No way in 2 hells would I subject myself to sit there and allow people to do whatever they want to me without some boundaries. OR I might if it was for the sake of getting a point across. The point of how fucked up people can be and just how far people would go. The fact that Abramovic came out of it bruised, bloody and beaten doesn’t mean she WASN’T assaulted, just that she ultimately allowed herself to be. Allowing oneself to be hurt can still hurt, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Had someone taken that gun and inserted it into her I’m sure rape/assault would also be a topic of many people, not limited to art theorists and college professors/students…

So.. was shia labeouf raped? If he thinks he was then I don’t think he thought his art installation through completely. If he had any notion in his mind that that would happen would he have done the art show anyway? If he’s using that as a means to get us talking about rape then he has succeeded. If it is a rape case to be put through the courts with the final verdict of having that woman found Guilty of rape then the only thing I can think of that would make that happen is the recent law (in california? idk) saying one must say Yes for it to be consensual and all other sexual relations is rape. Anywhere else she could argue that “Anything” is too subjective and, after all, she never had the slightest idea that it wasn’t allowed. I know this is a very hot button for many people, as for myself. So I’m 23 kissing a guy and he obviously wants sex. I don’t but I go along with everything and let him do me anyway. He sees me as someone who is saying nothing, a great kisser and by all other non-verbal signs i seem, to him, as into it as he is. He doesn’t know I’d cry myself to sleep later that night. Can I then call him a rapist? Was I raped? Is he a rapist? Should he go to jail? In my case there was no victim. If I was a victim and got him put in jail simply on the idea that I really didn’t want it in the first place then couldn’t he put me in jail for setting him up and not making myself clear? I turned him into a rapist by not verbalizing my discontent at the whole situation when, had I said no, he would’ve been the perfect gentleman and backed off. That may sound twisted but in a way I’m sure a lawyer could make that happen. There are several ways the “you must say yes or it’s rape” law is a good one. It takes out all the guess work of what is and what isn’t rape (i speak of this all in regards to non-minor sex). So… NOT Taking that law of “yes” into account WAS SHIA RAPED? If I had to say, knowing what little I know of the situation, he was not. The only person who victimized him was himself. He set the stage, the props, the players, what little rules there were. If he feels violated, hurt or betrayed then I do feel sorry for him. I have somewhat of a similar feeling when thinking back on my year 23. If he knew anything of prior installation artists and how aggressive people became he would’ve made rules to stop that from happening, unless he wanted to see how it’d go. He could’ve stopped it anytime but he just sat there, supposedly, like a statue, trapped by nothing but the mere preset notions of HIS art show.

It is amazing how this little man could bring about so much rambling from me that has also made so many argue where that line is. What is art and what is crime? What is consensual and what is rape?  He may have been frozen in response, unable to move as so many rape victims are, she may have been taking advantage of his art show knowing he had promised not to move and she is vile for that but I can not call her a rapist on what i know of the situation. She may have thought he was ok with it since it wasn’t forbidden. Some people are seriously that whack to go to a sexual place in thought and then in action. If Shia were a woman in an art installation doing the same thing and a man did that to her I would say the same, too. Just the same for other performance artists who leave it all up to the audience…sometimes the actions of the audience are what are most important and most heightened. I had a friend who did a performance peace on race. She was not white and had many different clothing set aside for people to dress her like she were a doll. She had rules, “Dress me up or down, anyway you want just do not take off bottom black layer”. Simple. The way people dressed her was only based on stereotypes of her race. No one tried to take all of her clothes off. No one tried to cut her hair b/c she had set clear boundaries.

If this has taught us anything and if future artists remember anything it is that people will do the unthinkable if given the chance. If Shia has gone to art school one might have told him the lightbulb joke, “How many art students does it take to change a lightbulb? Answer: Does it have to be a lightbulb?”  If you don’t put boundaries up there are none. Our art teacher was so sick of us asking a million questions about a simple assignment that he just started saying, “You can break the rules if it works, i’m done”.   This was Shia’s installation. Wrapping this all up simply, I say If that woman CROSSED A LINE then he, the artist, didn’t plan well or painted that line with Acme’s Disappearing Reappearing ink.

http://www.dazeddigital.com/artsandculture/article/19095/1/meet-the-two-artists-behind-shia-labeoufs-iamsorry

IAMSORRY-3
#IAMSORRY visitors were invited to use implements on the table when interacting with ShiaLuke Turner and Nastja Rönkkö

http://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/shia-labeouf-claims-raped-woman-4709987

touch

“i can’t touch my mother. i’m sorry but it’s true,” the young nurse tells the aged nun who is near bursting with tears. the nun replies with great emotion, “my mother and i did not have a tactile union! i did not regret it when she was alive but now… I think of Keats and how he cried,

“Touch has a memory. O say, love, say, What can I do to kill it and be free?!”

whoever thought a touch could bring about such issue? a loving child doesn’t touch his mother’s arm initially thinking the act rejectable. surely such close relation would merit acceptance and at least a fair amount of the good feeling neurotransmitters to allow the child to continue with his action. what harm would be to a child’s psyche to be refused physical contact with the one who bore them? would that result in a future child rejecting his/her parent’s touch? another parent touches their daughter and may never imagine what’s going on underneath the skin. from the time it takes for a touch to go from skin to brain is a hair less than instantaneous but for her it can seem greater. she senses a sudden tingly crawling throughout her skin from touch point to shoulders, throughout limbs and resting uncomfortably for a little too long upon her scalp. whatever it is the feeling is near visual, as though the electricity were ice running up a line instantly making crystals fractal off of itself. what has made this happen must be killed to be free from it. the nurse took her “i can’t touch my mother” tears and turned them into action, forcing herself to touch her dying mother for probably the first time since early childhood and resulted in a very broken relationship being a bit mended. it is amazing how simple the act of 1% of your skin against another’s could bring about such repelling or attraction. touch can bring Good tingles or spiders. instant skin crawling that makes you want to throw someone across the room or those wonderful shivers down your spine and to chambers of your heart or the parts between your legs that make you wanna say mmmmmm. I wrote about touch my first entry but i’ve been working little bits at a time at allowing my kids to just touch me if they want and my faking loving it 100%. Fake it til you make it, right? but to see their faces light up at me not telling them, “please move over” or “please don’t touch me right now” makes me happy. it also breaks my heart that i ever said that to them or as much as i did. I hate it that they’re at the age of remembering for the rest of their lives. i hope they also remember my trying to overcome my own issues, even seemingly small ones like touching or purposefully putting my arm around them, to be a better mother and a better me not only for me but for them as well. To stop growing is to stop living, and to grow we must make changes. touch has a memory. touch makes memories and feelings, confidence, fear…

Video

Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis

when people think of Beethoven they often think immediately of the Fifth Symphony, Fur Elise, Moonlight and Pathetique sonata, Eroica symphony and other instrument-only compositions. If you like those and fancy even a hair of choral/opera/ music Beethoven wrote some fantastic soul gripping choral arrangements as well. The ninth symphony (ode to joy) has choral parts in it. Choral Fantasy for piano, orchestra and choir is amazing. In college I was so excited to sing the choral fantasy, even if the choir only came in in the last 4 minutes of the 20 minute arrangement. I had a cd with it from middle school and I believe i was the most excited, art major that i was, among the music majors surrounding me. I think i recall even clapping when the director told us what we were to learn and perform it that year. We also had the privilege of singing Beethoven’s Mass in C Major, which is awesome (along with a schubert mass and a long and diaphragm challenging Bach motet) BUT Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis is probably my all time favorite Beethoven choral comp. If you’ve read this far then you have to listen to at least the first part, the Kyrie section. It’s the first 10 minutes of the hour+ song. Or even the first 5 minutes. Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison, kyrie Eleison. Lord have mercy, christ have mercy, lord have mercy. Even if you aren’t a christian, the pleading of a person begging a superior to have mercy, for the weeping person begging the something outside of themselves to have mercy. In the movie Immortal Beloved Kyrie played as Beethoven’s casket was taken through the streets of Vienna, Austria with an estimated (according to wikipedia) 10000-30000 onlookers lining the streets. Beethoven, I want to travel back in time to sit with you, and i’d love to sing your songs in a choir again one day.

eye contact with someone

I notice when people avoid eye contact, or are looking around while talking to me and it’s somewhat annoying. I notice it and think them jumpy but all in all it doesn’t annoy me to the point that I tell them to look at me..usually. But MAN I hate it when people force me to comply to their eye contact desires. I will be talking and looking around and the person will move their head as if to get between what i’m looking at and my eyes, to get my eyes back to them. It’s SO ANNOYING!!!! I’d rather just sit side by side and not look at someone who’s talking, most of the time. When I join eye contact it makes me forget what I’m saying sometimes. 

When walking down the street or wherever I happen to be, and someone makes eye contact with me it is almost like magic. A second to remember, a second that a stranger and I acknowledged each other’s existence. 

Today I went to go visit my grandmother. She has been depressed for over 2 years. The last major depression she had where she was hospitalized was 15 years ago, the day I graduated high school. She was taken into the mental institute, convinced my papa and aunt were demons taking her to hell. Her depression can turn into psychotic depression but hasn’t this time, yet, and hopefully won’t make it that far. They keep messing with her medicines. It seems like she’s on the 5th change of medicines b/c either they aren’t working or the insurance decides to change its coverage on the ones that do work. I am her oldest granddaughter, the second oldest grandchild of around 17 yet many times I look to her as a mother. My mother wasn’t touchy feelie. My grandmother babysat when my mother worked. I never remember cuddling with my mother but I do with my grandmother. She looked right into my eyes amidst her zoning out, with a tear half hanging between her half opened eyes and said, “What do I do? tell me what to do?” and we just stared at each other. Her old blue eyes with her fake lens she had gotten put in a couple years ago. When the light hits it it reflects like a cat but it reflects white, not red. There was no reflection in the darkened living room, just her black pupils surrounded by her old faded blue eyes. She was so sad. So lost. I could see her old self in her face but it was as though someone half erased who she was. Her hair wasn’t colored and the gray was showing so much. Personally, I like her gray hair, but today it was dingy, dull, like crayon gray. “What do I do? Tell me what to do!” and I wanted to say, “Come home with me. My kids are nuts and my house is a bit messy but at least it’ll get you out of this dark dingy yellow room with its sad pale yellow walls. You can sit in my hammock all day and cry all you want and sleep all you want. Listen to us as we fuss and laugh, play our guitars and pretend we can rule the world with fake guns and puppets.”

 

She really wanted an answer from me. I tried to give her an honest one. At the risk of her thinking I thought she was to blame for everything I told her she needed to talk to someone. A counselor that she told everything to, without censoring. Someone who wouldn’t judge.  Sometimes things we bottle up can surface in secret, behind our consciousness i believe, to eat away at us like an unknown parasite. Pray for things to surface so you could deal with them. Pray for all evil to exit. I feel a strong urge to tell her to tell me everything. She may have done bad to me in the past but I forgive her of that. Her family is beyond littered with sexual abuse and even that i can talk about as much as it makes me want to vomit. An old woman, in the last years of her life, closer to death than she ever has been and in the depths of depression, everyone deserves a chance to make it right or at least acknowledge what’s been done. As for little things, I told her to Force yourself to do little things you once found happiness in. Force yourself to sing, to walk outside, to play the guitar. 

Tomorrow I will call her. Maybe I will call her every day. I go too long without calling her and I’ve always gotten the feeling that she is happier when I call her more often. It’s easier to talk on the phone than have someone look you right in the eye and plead for help. It may be easier, but I wish I would’ve brought her home with me tonight. 

 

 

fractals

How to explain Trapped in the physical

I simply believe that some part of the human Self or Soul is not subject to the laws of space and time.  ~Carl Jung

 

An experience I had in my adult life that solidified my knowledge that I wasn’t just a physical being was during a sleep paralysis episode. I opened my eyes to the sunshine pouring into the bedroom. The walls and window coverings were white except for one dark wooden and deeply painted accent wall. I couldn’t move. I was breathing, I could move my eyes but try as hard as I might I could not rise. In that moment I recalled learning about REM sleep in high school AP Psychology class. If we didn’t have a part of us, or chemicals in us, that made us paralyzed during dreams we’d be flailing all over the place. When you wake up and your body hasn’t come out of the paralysis it’s called Sleep paralysis. I was excited to just lay there and experience it.

I didn’t know any stories of sleep paralysis but now there’s so much folklore around them. I know now that people, including friends and other experiences i’ve had, have seen demons, ghosts, frightening things and have felt them, too. I’ve heard sleep paralysis and night terrors used interchangeably but they’re different… I’m going off on a tangent here somewhat…

I was excited to just lay there and experience it. I could feel the sheets against my skin, see the breeze from the fan blowing the curtain gently, and then I saw a figure. Looking down to the left of the foot of the bed a white, somewhat translucent figure was slowly gliding across the floor. So beautiful white, a soft white that didn’t glow but was just there..and with the blackest opaque non reflecting non shiny no depth at all hair i’ve ever seen. I didn’t see a face, just a blur. The edges of this white and black figure were blurred. My eyes glued to it as it glided from the left side of the room to the right and into the bathroom. I knew part of me was still in a dream but I had to get up. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to not be paralyzed. Get up and go look in that bathroom! GET UP, GET UP GET UP and SWOOSH I got up really quickly, felt the wooden floor under my bare feet and saw myself laying in the bed. As soon as I saw myself, SWOOSH!! it felt like my soul was gently sucked back into myself and I was staring at the ceiling again.

Even though I know the whole experience could very well be hypnagogic hallucinations, it could’ve all been just a big funky ass dream, I say it was real. Coincidentally enough the next week my friend said she had been having a panic attack in the shower and as she tried to count slowly to get her heart rate down she felt herself rise out of her body. She saw her self leaning against the wall from up above, looked around and stayed there for a few seconds and then was back in her body. My husband woke once to see his own face below his perspective. Like my friend he stayed there for a few seconds, looked around and that was that. People I know have seen ghosts. Children talk to ghosts and have uncanny descriptions of people they’ve never seen. It can happen. We aren’t only physical, we are spiritual.

You don’t have a soul.  You are a Soul.  You have a body.  ~C.S. Lewis

We are born into this world, whatever time the soul enters the physical realm of our little baby bodies, and have to acclimate to them. The nurture of ourselves from outside forces definitely shapes us. The nature of our true selves, the heart and soul of us, comes out to other people as our personality, in our actions, whatever. You feel yourself, your consciousness, your being every second of every day. What we experience as infants into childhood is, for the most part, long forgotten but the way we were brought up effects what we do as adults, how we think, how we speak, how we eat…

Once I saw myself as a fetus in my mother. A light shone in the heart of me and a voice spoke, “This is you before the world got to you. Find it and be it.”  Although I haven’t done psychedelics in years, and I didn’t do them but maybe 5 times, that hallucination has stuck with me since. The tears that followed were for the knowing that voice was true. We can only let the physical effect our soul so much. Maybe that’s one reason why the prophets, in particularly Jesus (I was raised in the church and still call myself a Jesus believer) taught so much of casting the physical aside. How easily it is to become rooted in all the physical around us. It’s natural to do so! I may not, in the strictest of terms, be trapped in the physical. It is a part of the experience of life here. But to let the physical be the only focus is to ignore me. I am trapped, i cannot exit, i do NOT WANT to exit this body until I’m 102 but I want to know more of the spiritual, more of my soul separate from the physical, but i must accept the physical, make it cozy, make it not rule over me.

Assess the physical, assess the changes it has made. Embrace the lessons and learn from them. Consciously work at becoming the person I know I am and can be. Apply the lessons learned to real life. Cognitive behavioral changes even if I have to tattoo the lessons learned onto my skin to keep it at the surface of thought. Show the love I know I have in the best ways I can. So  (for example) I dislike when my children touch me and sometimes it feels like spiders crawling. I should make them touch my arms and take deep breaths, think happy thoughts.. at some point my brain will comply with my greater will and i can train myself to love their touches as a mother should. *my son looooooves rubbing and touching people, so i wouldn’t be forcing him to cuddle. He would greatly love it and would probably pretend to pass out if I asked him specifically to rub my arms.*