March 2005

The more I have been thinking and reading about this, the more I want it, the more I need it, the more it makes itself known in my artwork, in my past behavior. I was thinking today about something my mother told me a few times, this little anecdote about me when I was very young. She told me that one day, when I was two years old she was trying to get me to take a nap. I wouldn't lie down, I kept looking at her and then I just stood up and said "Spank me!!" I screamed it and wouldn't stop until she did it. The thing is, I had never been spanked before. Both of my parents were abused as children and were very much against corporeal punishment. But she did it anyway, I mean, I wouldn't stop screaming until she did, and so she did it. Maybe I started young.

The other thing I was thinking about was the fairytales I liked the most when I was a kid. The myth about the Rape of Europa, for instance, as well as the story of Hansel and Gretel. I used to imagine myself trapped in the cage as Hansel was by the evil witch. And then I would rescue myself. There was also one about a fairy princess who was going to be given away to these huge mountain men by her father. These men were from the north and large and hairy and had no manners. When I think about it, I can name lots of fairytales that have a sadomasochistic theme or underlying tone. Little Red Riding Hood was always one of my favorites. The Wolf plays a very interesting game with her. I made some pictures with that in mind, with this taxidermied badger I found in a shop. I always knew I would have a use for it.

Rapunzel is another one. I dreamt of being held captive by the witch. So, I guess it's not that I was influenced by fairytales, but rather how I thought of them when I was a kid.

The fantasies that I'm reading about, the ones I keep having, they aren't new. I have always had them. This feeling is not new, I just never realized what it was. That I'm a masochist. Wow, that's so weird to write. That I want someone to do things to me, creative, horrible things. I loved reading Story of O. I want to be made to feel like that. A complete abandonment of my person. It's something deep in the pit of my stomach, my longing for this, it's like the feeling I get when I'm in love. Like I can't breathe.