I wanted to make films but one of my first projects when I finally went to art school was to put the first RAMBO movie through the Fairlight Video Instrument and record the output.
First-years weren’t really allowed to use the mysterious Fairlight, computer video instrument which was a super sensitive and delicate machine that was virtually impossible to fix if something went wrong with it which was a frequent occurrence. It was the Video Department’s prize possession. I like mysterious, super-sensitive and delicate things and beings and I wanted to use it. I managed to get special permission. I wanted to zoom in on the pixels and cut out all the bits where weren’t people shooting at each other or blowing things up. The idea was that I would go into video stores, rent the movie, transfer my version onto the tape over the original and then return it to the store.
The thing was virtually unwatchable but that was kind of the point and I got a 10. I also acted in a movie called ‘The String Man’ based on a Peter Carey short story which, amongst other things, involved me walking into a lake at sunset wearing a suit and a beret. The result was part comedic and part mesmerisingly beautiful. I think I was half in love with the woman that made it and she with me. I still miss her a little bit, like all the women I’ve been in love with, their absences, the loss of them, continue to live and ache within me. When you work closely with someone and you love their work you can easily fall in love with them. To observe, to witness someone’s diligent and careful work, to enter into that space of work with them is magical.
In psychoanalysis this is regarded as a symptom of what is called transference (and counter-transference) and it’s desirable. It means the analysis is working. It means the analysand is projecting their sublimated feelings onto the analyst. I’d rather call it post-love and say : it is REAL — but it is not about being IN love in the way that it is commonly understood. It’s about entering the space of love, it’s loving someone for who they are and what they do, without any demands on the other from either. Although there may be desire it is not acted upon, that is, it does not inevitably lead to dependency and/or subjecting the other (and the self) to sex. I am still not sure what happens to desire when there is no sex. Maybe nothing. Maybe it just is.
I’ve had sex plenty of times when there was no desire on my part but I was in love with the person I was having the sex with1. It is exhilarating to ‘give’ a person you love an orgasm and to able to do that for them but as a sexual experience per sé it can be quite bland.
And now, here, I declare my-so-called-self post-sexual — not asexual because I am not disinterested in sex as a phenomenon, but anthropologically and I am not without the capacity to be aroused.
I wonder if post-sex is a private matter between a person and their sexual organ/s. Where there is a need for an orgasm is this not easily and efficiently accomplished without the involvement of another?
I wonder why the cumshot is so popular in porn, especially the facial, and the popularity in images of the humiliation of an other in general?
And also when I wasn’t in love with the person but for other reasons. ↩