Even if I mainly strive to capture the symbolic soul in my sessions, the reality of the body is still equally important. I love to twist, bend and shape it. To exaggerate some aspects and zoom attention in on others through subtle movements. The goal in this is not to satisfy the gaze of an external audience – that would make it pornography. Instead, it is to help direct one’s own gaze inwards.
Proprioception is the self-awareness of the body in time and space. It’s the sense of direction in the joints, extension in the limbs and the balance of tension in the muscles. Since my years in medical massage school, I’m still in awe of how many muscles are involved in, say, flexing the arm. Everyone knows about the bicep from doing curls at the gym; that’s the protagonist, the main actor. But equally important is the tricep that smoothes out the movement; that’s the antagonist. Without it, a bicep curl would be like releasing a catapult. That’s just the start because there are ten, twenty, maybe fifty other muscles supporting this one movement, from stabilising the shoulders to counterbalancing the hips. All at once during any movement, there is a lot of information produced about velocity, direction, resistance. I find the orchestration of proprioception nothing less than elegance and grace in somatic form. It is easy to recognise in a professional dancer, but I can see this in everyone.
The act of twisting and bending serves as a means of communication between the bound one and myself, as it impacts their sense of self. My intention is for them to experience their own inner beauty. By using their bound hands to slightly lift their shoulders and gently twist their spine off-centre, the effect is vastly different than simply leaving their hands centred in front of their chest. Maybe just maybe, this subtle emotional shift is felt, evidenced by a rise in their eyebrows and a moan or release of tension on the path towards submission and surrender.
Enhancing Reality By Symbolic Actions
The rituals we involve in our sadomasochistic play aid in this transformation. Careful preparation beforehand when stepping into a steaming hot bath to scrub the body clean and let the mind melt away. The choice of clothing, from buying, washing, folding, and perfuming them in a seductive scent before wrapping them in silk paper. Watching oneself in the mirror as the hair is braided, makeup applied, and clothing unwrapped. The deliberate steps taken into this new, yet familiar space where one allows oneself to be seen – by themselves, by their partner, and by those who witness the exchange. This is the foundation of much of my sadomasochistic play, and it’s why I prefer the traditional Japanese rope that I bring home from my visits to Tokyo, my hand-dyed blindfold fabric and my terribly expensive black-and-white Leica camera. These carefully handpicked tools demonstrate my level of care within the limitations of my budget, similar to antique utensils used in tea ceremonies. I’m sure there are even much better tools from a technical perspective, but I care about the sentimental value much more. Perhaps it’s this level of investment that makes my eroticism esoteric? Without it, duct tape bondage would do just fine.
Paying The Attention They Deserve
I want my partner to feel unique by knowing that I see every little detail of the tie, their body and their emotional state. That all is exposed to my gaze. I want them to trust me to shape this beautiful journey that we partake in together. Paradoxically, this scenario is both safe and exposed. If my partner allows me to reshape the image they have of themselves and I still see them as beautiful, they will feel beautiful and therefore be more beautiful. Such is the circular, ironic nature of beauty.
By shaping the body, I shape the experience. For instance, spreading one’s legs to draw attention to the genitals may be perceived as vulgar. Conversely, tying the knees together to symbolise innocence and insecurity, and then spreading the feet to highlight the curling of toes during arousal is an alternative. Suspending the body midair brings a sense of three-dimensionality, making everything more extreme, bending against gravity. While I’m uncertain if this enhances the experience, the added physical tension can both intensify and diminish the emotional experience. However, it needs to be on the edge where a shift begins to take place. Furthermore, the bondage has a significant impact on the body, as it serves as a physical reminder that this moment cannot last forever. It is also a philosophical reminder of the transience of the play.
