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LadyJill -> ahh in the mind of a deviant..lady Jill Minix (12/27/2004 12:43:10 AM)
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Human Canvas
I adore historic artwork and sculpture. From French Chagall paintings, the lovely marble Kore statues of Greece and forward in time to Friedrich's Abby in an Oak Forrest, I enjoy viewing various pieces of art. Perhaps what was produced inside the Baroque era around Italy and Spain is most interesting to Me. At that time, "new" physics was replacing old theories and humans took a fresh scientific look at themselves and the surrounding world. Genuine pain, endless misery and bouts of severe suffering were part the Baroque years as well and it reflected in the era's haunting artwork. Countries all across Europe stayed at constant war with each other. I bring all of these emotions into play when I create art, only I use a much darker and sinister medium than most. I use human skin.
My blank page arrived for session and had begun to prepare his body for My tools. I had instructed him to shower with antibacterial soap and give himself an enema before we started. I wanted a clean slate to use. No marks from a previous beating or unclean spots on his body; just pure virgin canvas. This small amount of time is all I needed to shift mental gears alone in My studio so when the blank page walked inside, I was speaking with muses.
"The pain was so great that I screamed aloud: but at the same time I felt such an infinite sweetness that I wished the pain to last forever" I said quoting St. Theresa of Avila. I stood up from My throne and walked over to the page. White hairless skin and limbs uniform in colour except for the small line of freckles over his face, stood in front of the concrete wall. My blank page had a mass of black thick curls that hung like small halos over his shoulders that I could not help but to touch and twirl. Two pulleys with long pieces of black rope tucked around mounted boat cleats were hanging from the ceiling. At the end of these ropes were padded suspension cuffs that dangled heavenly from above him. I led each delicate limb into the nearest leather cuff and locked them on his thin extremities. My page began to hum; he had undeniable faith in his artist and knew that I would create a masterpiece.
Once the rope was pulled taut- the arms had spiritually extended out and the body seemed to be hovering inches above the floor. With a sound that replicated Corelli's trio sonata in the background, I splashed water on My face and opened My reborn eyes to begin blessed creativity. The long scourge I own had ends that I knew would tear at his skin and create a divine scenery across his backside. Slowly I dragged the ends horizontally along the flesh and watched each stiff part create a crimson mark in its path. Faster but without additional force, I touched every binding cell on his back. I spent several minutes sweeping his body clean from any evil spirits that may have been concealed within those now bleeding tissues. Next, I grabbed a rattan cane from out of a vase and began sculpting linear striations across the back. Over time, 72 thick dual marks rose up to the heavens across the small wispy blood marks. A green bottle of Chartreuse glowed in the corner waiting to be introduced into this delightful scene. I strolled over to the bottle and brought it back in front of My canvas. Slowly I poured the entire amount over each bleeding part of My page with the excess flowing on the cement floor in puddles. he wept.
After a much needed gag in place and 180 degree flip in orientation, My canvas was now facing Me. With his eyes open, he could only see the reciprocal view of My high heel boots. Against the gray wall was My example of high relief in mystical form. The front was a complete contrast to the back: one side of him was completely angelic white with no demonic images and the other was an inflamed pile of hell. I barely noticed the genital area since I used a handful of safety pins to secure the objects out of My way. Slowly, I brought over a short metal table that had 18 gauge 1.5-inch needles laid in neat little rows beside him. I had decided not to ignite the front area with lashes but to create charming geometrical shapes with the needles. One by one, the whirls, triangles, spheres and cosmic oddities appeared like a stigmata: out of nowhere. Over time, the millions of microscopic wounds gradually began to bleed creating a vision of tiny slices of filleted skin all over My canvas.
I placed a bright spotlight on the right upper side of My canvas and turned all the other lights out. This sacred beam illuminated the body in such a unique way that it appeared to be floating toward the ceiling. Resurrection. Here... My own version of Baroque illusionism achieved its ultimate expression.
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