Category Archives: BLOGGERY: politics, religion & brain purges……

History of the Dominatrix

An intriguing book, “The History and Arts of the Dominatrix” by Anne O Nomis, is due for release in December:

“…Nomis traces artifacts depicting a Dominatrix Goddess, and clay tablets in cuneiform writing which record gender transformation ceremonies, punishment, pain and ecstasy. The Dominatrix rituals were conducted in honour of the powerful Goddess Inanna in Mesopotamia, who had a mysterious ‘keppu’ implement used in her game of domination. In the later Mediterranean, young men would be whipped before the Goddess Artemis Orthia in Sparta, and initiation rites of the ‘Mysteries’ at Pompeii include a Dominatrix priestess figure with a whip.

In the 17th – 19th Centuries, ‘forbidden books’ reveal information on the women who ran flagellation establishments in England. From early flagellation brothel ‘Whipstresses’, to famous courtesan ‘Birch Disciplinarians’ and to the ‘Governesses’ of the golden age, the occupational craft was to develop with elaborate tools and equipment, paired with refined skills and knowledge. The female flagellants were savvy erotic entrepreneurs of their era, whose clientele included the elite of British aristocracy, politicians, and yes – even royalty!

The bizarre fetish style and ‘Dominatrix’ title came about in the 20th Century, an era of discreet whispers and advertising consisting of little cards in tobacconist windows in Soho. With pseudonymous names and disappearing acts common, this book traces some of the Dominatrices whose stiletto footprints would otherwise have been lost to the sands of time. From black-and-white and sepia images, dog-eared early colour photographs, polaroids, and fetish magazine scans of long-lost images, the story recovers some of the Dominatrices who worked in the ‘bizarre underground’ of New York, London, The Hague and the Herbertstrasse. Lastly, the book addresses what kind of a woman becomes a Dominatrix, how she practices her craft, and discusses her ‘Seven Realm Arts’…”

More about the book and its author here.

Flagellation_print_from_Library_of_Congress_Washington_DC_medium

But is it Art?

Here’s a chunk of a New Statesman article by Tabatha Leggett on whether porn can ever be art (especially prescient for me, as I’ve just started drawing smut again after a long break):

“…Feminist philosopher Anne Eaton, who writes about this subject often, thinks that expressing a morally dubious message undermines the value of a work of art because it requires its viewers to identify with ethical deformities, which distracts them from appreciating the works as art. Put simply, she reckons that to enjoy porn, you have to (at least temporarily) objectify women, and you can’t do this at the same time as contemplating it as art.

Eaton’s arguments are tendentious. Obviously pornography doesn’t always require viewers to objectify women. That’s simply an accurate, if not particularly astute, observation about the majority of the stuff you’ll find on any teenage boy’s laptop. But she’s wrong to think that you can’t objectify someone in a work of art and contemplate its artistic value at the same time. There are loads of artworks that let you do that. Remember Fiona Banner’s 2002 Turner Prize nominee “Arsewoman in Wonderland”, a pornographic film transcript printed in pink ink on a large canvas? It says things like, “he cums in her face, she moans and rolls over”. You can objectify the woman being described and think about whether it’s art at the same time.

The same goes for basically everything that Jeff Koons ever made. Koons even spoke about the function of the explicit paintings from his 1989 exhibition “Made in Heaven” being twofold: to encourage audiences to form opinions about acceptable expression of sexuality and to get them feeling a little hot under the collar…”

Full article here.

Censor

Here’s a small snippet from a much bigger, much better post by Emily Rose, a femsub and rape survivor, brilliantly addressing the debate about violent porn and the gulf between fantasy and reality (trigger warning):

“…I don’t believe we should censor our fantasies. We simply cannot. Ever since I can remember masturbating, before I even knew what masturbating was, I have fantasised about kink. And, being forced by a stranger in a dark alley (actually, it was usually the local park) was a common fantasy. When I came across the kink scene later in my adult life (the internet wasn’t around in my formative years) I was relieved to find out that I wasn’t the only one, that I wasn’t a strange fucked up deviant, but ‘normal’ (at least by the standards of kink. I recognise that if you’re anti-kink, you’ll still think I’m a fucked up deviant). There is a very common myth, which is part of the rape culture which permeates our society, that women do want to be raped. And, it is a common female fantasy (see this Wikipedia entry http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_fantasy). But, rape is not the same as the fantasy.

When I was raped, I felt that I no longer had agency to enjoy those fantasies anymore. It was one of the things he took from me. On the boards of Informed Consent (now, sadly, no more), I was vocal in my opposition to ‘rape play’, a term used to describe a scene in which one participant consensually cedes the right to consent to what happens, otherwise known as ‘consensual non-consent.’ I objected in most part to the term ‘play’ juxtaposed with the act of rape. To me, rape was horrific, it had lost me my job, many friends, my family relationships (now mending), and most of all, my sanity. How could people be seeming to enjoy this, how could they call it play?

I now practice consensual non-consent (CNC). The very special friend who I have enjoyed (yes, enjoyed) that with has given me back my fantasies; it’s probably the biggest, most significant gift anyone has ever given me. In some ways, it’s been therapeutic (but I’m not saying I recommend it for rape survivors, that’s just a very personal observation). The difference between CNC and actual rape, to me, is the mutual respect. The hugs afterwards. The knowing that what we’re doing (what he’s doing) is for our mutual pleasure. But, during, it is not something I want. It is non-consent, but it isn’t rape, because it is consensual. (I expect many of you will be thinking, oh, that makes him a rapist. I know he is not. When we talk (and we do talk about this), he is mortified by the idea that he could be. He never could be, he never would, unless he was absolutely sure, beyond all doubt, that it was something I wanted, craved, needed, desired). Now, I understand why it is often termed ‘rape play.’ It is as akin to actual rape as children playing doctors & nurses is as akin to being an actual surgeon…”

Read the whole post here.