The Seattle Erotic Arts Festival
Apr. 17th, 2005 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsI went Saturday night with a lovely female companion. Omaha, went with her own, um, companion. (I had to run and take the kids to the babysitter's place first, so we agreed to meet up at the festival later.) It was... impressive. There were fifty pieces up for auction and I think I saw about 200 pieces total. Omaha was were in the movie "Slut" when we got there, so my companion and I roamed about, looking through the pieces.
There was a sign on the door: "no public nudity". Maybe not, but there were two huge black men wandering around in little more than scarves about their midsections, true Nubian Warrior style; one fellow dressed as a dog who read aloud to us from Wordsworth's as the opening to the auction (held in "The Microsoft Theater"). A woman walked about in a g-string, chaps, and a tank top with spahgetti-thin straps. Several different cadres of lesbians moved through the open space, most of them acquaintances of mine. One magnificently tall "fat gurl" in a red handmade corset teetered on fuck-me shoes. Lots of people I knew there.
The art was arranged in a big open space on the walls and on stand-alone panels arranged in angles in middle spaces. Photography rarely impresses me, although there was some interesting photoshop work. There was some really fascinating triptychs, and a watercolor that I appreciated simply for the control the artist had. One HUGE five-frame oil work, twelve feet high and sixteen wide called, I think, "Suffering Life's Changes" dominated one whole corner. There was an installation, a circular space eight feet around six feet tall, from the middle of which a latex sculpture of eight breasts arranged in a ring dripped honey down onto a sterile white platform of salt and flour-- very strange. One of the best photos was of a woman with about two hundred play needles through her flesh, hung as the base of a massive harp on which her lover played.
My companion and I went to the auction, where we sat in the bleachers and watched all the pretty people walk by. A friend of mine walked by wearing a rubber dress and I complimented her on it. "Oh," she said as she scanned the audience. "I'm looking for someone to lube my butt." She held a bottle of dimethicone, basically high-end rubber gloss and polish. "The car seat absorbed a lot of the silicone and I need to be re-done to be shiny." So I started out the evening shining butt.
We watched the auction for a while. The auctioneer was a professional and a damned good one, utterly shameless, knew where she was, and stroked the audience fast and hard to make her sales. And she did. I've rarely seen an auctioneer that good. Heck, I'd go to auctions just to watch her work. We sipped wine (the red was better than the white) and then my phone vibrator told me that my wife and her companion had left the theatre.
I gave our auction passes to another couple so they could go in after we left, have their own wine and enjoy the deserts-- chocolates shapes like penii and vulvae-- and the four of us went over to the Outback for dinner.
I was late getting to the table because I had to park the car. I went in and said, "I'm looking for a party of three that came in a few minutes ago."
"Oh. Two women and one man. Was he wearing a blue shirt?"
"I don't think so. There was a lot of leather involved."
"Oh. They're upstairs." She led me to the table.
As I sat down, the waiter said "The woman over there insisted you'd want an iced tea." I thanked him, and Omaha's companion said, "That's what comes of you two being married seventeen years." The waiter looked puzzled because it was quite obvious I was not snuggling the lovely woman to which we referred but to the beauty to my left, shook his head and said, "So, how is the arts festival?"
Dinner was unremarkable. The Outback *is* a chain, after all. Omaha and her companion told us about the movie; we told them about people-watching the auction.
After dinner we went to the Wetspot.
There was a sign on the door: "no public nudity". Maybe not, but there were two huge black men wandering around in little more than scarves about their midsections, true Nubian Warrior style; one fellow dressed as a dog who read aloud to us from Wordsworth's as the opening to the auction (held in "The Microsoft Theater"). A woman walked about in a g-string, chaps, and a tank top with spahgetti-thin straps. Several different cadres of lesbians moved through the open space, most of them acquaintances of mine. One magnificently tall "fat gurl" in a red handmade corset teetered on fuck-me shoes. Lots of people I knew there.
The art was arranged in a big open space on the walls and on stand-alone panels arranged in angles in middle spaces. Photography rarely impresses me, although there was some interesting photoshop work. There was some really fascinating triptychs, and a watercolor that I appreciated simply for the control the artist had. One HUGE five-frame oil work, twelve feet high and sixteen wide called, I think, "Suffering Life's Changes" dominated one whole corner. There was an installation, a circular space eight feet around six feet tall, from the middle of which a latex sculpture of eight breasts arranged in a ring dripped honey down onto a sterile white platform of salt and flour-- very strange. One of the best photos was of a woman with about two hundred play needles through her flesh, hung as the base of a massive harp on which her lover played.
My companion and I went to the auction, where we sat in the bleachers and watched all the pretty people walk by. A friend of mine walked by wearing a rubber dress and I complimented her on it. "Oh," she said as she scanned the audience. "I'm looking for someone to lube my butt." She held a bottle of dimethicone, basically high-end rubber gloss and polish. "The car seat absorbed a lot of the silicone and I need to be re-done to be shiny." So I started out the evening shining butt.
We watched the auction for a while. The auctioneer was a professional and a damned good one, utterly shameless, knew where she was, and stroked the audience fast and hard to make her sales. And she did. I've rarely seen an auctioneer that good. Heck, I'd go to auctions just to watch her work. We sipped wine (the red was better than the white) and then my phone vibrator told me that my wife and her companion had left the theatre.
I gave our auction passes to another couple so they could go in after we left, have their own wine and enjoy the deserts-- chocolates shapes like penii and vulvae-- and the four of us went over to the Outback for dinner.
I was late getting to the table because I had to park the car. I went in and said, "I'm looking for a party of three that came in a few minutes ago."
"Oh. Two women and one man. Was he wearing a blue shirt?"
"I don't think so. There was a lot of leather involved."
"Oh. They're upstairs." She led me to the table.
As I sat down, the waiter said "The woman over there insisted you'd want an iced tea." I thanked him, and Omaha's companion said, "That's what comes of you two being married seventeen years." The waiter looked puzzled because it was quite obvious I was not snuggling the lovely woman to which we referred but to the beauty to my left, shook his head and said, "So, how is the arts festival?"
Dinner was unremarkable. The Outback *is* a chain, after all. Omaha and her companion told us about the movie; we told them about people-watching the auction.
After dinner we went to the Wetspot.
