Month: February 2017

In Japanese, “Shibari” simply means “to tie”.

Shibari is all about style. Styling the rope to the natural curves of the human body. The rope provides visual texture to the curves of the body. Shabari uses the person as the canvas, the rope as the tool to create the art. Practicing Sharbari I have learnt that the rope bondage asthetic isn’t usually a way to create a victimized look. Practices of Shabari use it to create beautiful imagery on other people. It is also commonly used as a component in BDSM play and is also used to enhance sexual activity.

What better way to use something that is supposed to be beautiful and pleasing to the human body than for what it is exactly not meant for.

Shabari is specifically to create a none distressful look. It is created for pleasure and art purposes and is usually done with a partner, giving them the ultimate control.

Using Shabari and taking control of my own situation would be interesting for a hostage of yourself situation. It tells a story instantly. The beauty of the precision and the twist of the situation.

 

So far my initial ideas for performance is based on being a hostage in a toxic relationship. You pull the rope tighter on yourself. YOU watch yourself be made in to something you are not as you begin to be control and manipulated. You are somewhat in control of the situation though. Their is was of stopping this. You are supposed to be the one to walk away, but instead you keep adding ropes and making yourself more okay with the situation as you are the one, once again in control of it. That’s why I want to look at the control of the situation. Controlling yourself to be put in a vulnerable situation is commonly unheard of and that’s why I want to explore it. Willingly you wouldn’t offer to be tied up and mentally abused, would you? To be put in a confined space and reminded you might die but you can’t get out of it. YOU WOULD NOT PUT YOURSELF IN A SITUATION LIKE THAT.

That is why it’s interesting. It’s interesting as theirs no understanding of why you would put yourself in a visible situation like that, so why do people put their selves in them mentally?

 

The images below show some ties I have learnt but are yet to perfect over the coming weeks.

 

Leg ties practiced on a friend

Harness tie, done and practiced on myself (proud moment).

 

 

Joni Mitchell can teach anyone how to feel by the way.

 

I remember driving in the car a lot with my old best friend and he would sing these lines to me.

Teenage demon baby, I’m in love with you
There’s no where in this world I’d rather be
Then right here next to you

We were up ’til dawn, I couldn’t stop yawning
I’ll never get that feeling again
It’s funny how this old dead piece of land
Makes us feel so alive

 

Teenage Demon Baby shortly became my nickname. I was the walking dead. I was up all night if I’m honest, abusing my body with various substances that shouldn’t be consumed by any young female, especially not sat there with their partner who’d got the mirror out for the occasion. The novelty wore off quite quickly. We’d wake up late afternoon after being sat up all night drawing cartoons of one another or animals or just writing each others names on sheets of paper and sticking them to the walls. We’d start all over again.

“Morning”

“Morning”

“Would you like some?”

It never changed. However much I wanted things to change. You were a hostage because your partner was also a hostage within their own life. Neither of you could get out of the situation and one wasn’t leaving alive. You persuade yourself it’s fun and this person only wants the best for you and they’re your best friend. But they’re not. You partner, becomes your friend, becomes your enemy, watches you cry and lose the will to live and almost some nights die from frantic panic of the abuse they’re doing. You’re mentally abused. Physically, drained, mentally, gone.

 

You leave.

 

They try to escape the planet and you lose all faith because some how that’s your fault and you’ve caused that but it’s out of your control. You can’t control someone else once you’ve let them go.

 

Teenage demon, baby I’m in LOVE with you.

We were in nothing more than in the pub, bed, shower or purgatory.

 

Today we looked further in to different characters and it turns out two of mine were basically the same

I am either two different, but basically the same angry women or an eight year old girl.

Each character revolved  their conversation around frustrated circumstance and the need to hate something or find the worst in each situation, a part from my younger character who resolved her situation. I find myself picking the bad points of everything and that’s why I am a hostage in my own life. I find myself tied to my own thoughts and feeling and difficulties. I don’t handle things like anyone else I know. Everything has to end with screaming and crying and someone not understanding, everything. I mean, I had a fight with a wall this weekend and I also had a fight with my own face, resulting in a bruise in the front of my forehead because it turns out I pack force.

I am sixteen, maybe fifteen.

 

First relatable song.

My first idea heavily involves my life and my path and not so much the characters I’ve met, but what these characters along the way have done to batter me in to submission within life. My life is: finish university with some form of degree, get a job, move out, get engaged, get married, have a child and live a normal life. But nothing is normal. Life has been flipped upside down every year since I was fourteen. FOURTEEN.

 

My other idea is completely different to the first.

I find myself wanting to make others laugh. I try to laugh a lot at what’s going on around me and try to make the best of a bad situation. Others laughing brings me complete and absolute joy. I mean, what is better than the sound of your step son laughing because you say his feet smell, or the sound of your dad laughing because you’ve called your mothers new partner “Peggy Lou” because his names Louis and he only has one front tooth.

I love making the best of a bad situation and a lot of my situations are bad.

 

Second relatable song.

Continue reading “Home Could Be Anywhere When I Am Holding You.”