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This can also be my fundamental criticism of the present itself. It was referred to as Annie Sprinkle--Post Porn Modernist. The work was more than that as a result of Annie is greater than that. The stage set was Annie's bedroom, Annie's world. But Annie's bedroom world just isn't limited to the stage, not to a non-public

bedroom, to not a personal sales space with a one way window in a XXX theatre. It is because Annie has been expanding out of the therapeutic massage parlor strip joint, porn display into the worlds of art and spirit. So the bedroom we see on stage retains changing, pulling us in, including us. We never are certain what we're experiencing--a play, a one-lady sex show, a performance with viewers-participation, a monologue, a magic trantric ritual. This not being positive created an electric actuality which wrapped us into Annie...deep inside Annie Sprinkle. Once we first see Annie, she is sort of a corporate yuppie explaining to us with the assistance of charts, graphs, and slides why the intercourse business was a terrific career transfer for our younger Annie. This appeared very much like the whitewash rationale of the porn business. But simply as we had been about to dismiss Annie, it became clear that this was not just a self-justifying monolog about the interior world of a intercourse star written by some male ghost-writer. It was a lot more than this. It was billed as a one-lady show. For anyone who has followed Annie's profession (and for many who have not, the biographic thread on this piece offered the wanted background), the present was the logical next step. She is someone whose spirit has reached out of sleazy hord-core flicks to inspire by humor and human warmth. She is someone who has teamed up with Veronica Vera, sister sexual evolutionary and creator of the manifesto, to say control over their intercourse art by publishing their express

magazines, and promoting bottles of their own piss by mail. Annie's "innocence" has a large streak of intelligent enterprise sense. She went on to develop into a writer and a photographer, in addition to directing an erotic

video. Over the last six years, she segued herself into the performance artwork world to the purpose that she is the subject of much critical vital discussion. This piece encapsulates this. Many sections have been

carried out before as particular person pieces. Done separately, they have been cute, daring, but lack a sure depth of magical perception. But in this production, Annie weaves these items with new creations into a

nonlinear magic carpet that breaks by the merely shocking, merely vulgar, merely taboo-breaking, into the cosmic realm of non-public touch where by laughing, crying, being turned on, we turn into channels for brand spanking new alternatives. So we're sitting on this strip joint, watching this explicit present. But it won't keep on stage. Annie is not going to keep only a intercourse object. She is a intercourse object. Everyone is...not less than everybody who is wholesome and glad. But Annie is just not only a intercourse object. She makes use of her intercourse, her porn/hooker/sex background to make the folks within the viewers see they're intercourse objects, however not just intercourse objects. Annie can do this as a result of she does not deny, cover or underestimate the intercourse/porn/tacky/little one aspect of her soul as so many do. She may, sooner or later, be seduced away from this, her energy. But in this efficiency, she exploited this erotic power. It was billed as a one-girl present. This was not true. The audience was her main man/woman. She talked to us, concerned us, enveloped us. The play vanished, and an experience took over. She had us doing tantric breathing and exercising our inside genital muscles. It felt silly and tacky and dumb, as Annie appeared to be. Dumbly innocent and pure. But as shamans will let you know, magic is dumb, tacky, silly, innocent and pure. Annie, at different factors, invited the audience onto the stage to play together with her common tits, peer into her deeply to glimpse her pink clam cervix. She was always speaking to us, responding to us, making like to us, pulling us into an enveloping reality that stored getting deeper

and wider...first the porn actuality, expanding into Annie's reality, and finally into the liquid world of melting types of tantric magic. The play melted away. Annie grew to become more than herself, more than her Sprinkle id. She was talking about her reality, about herself, but not simply speaking about herself. By transforming herself into a symbol of what we all could possibly be, she was providing a working various to the workings of the conventional world. This melting away of the play expanded the efficiency into an all-enveloping environmental expertise, a magical ritual. I do not suppose Sprinkle is conscious of the total vary of her work. She is guided by feelings, by spirits and the muses. She may be tempted to polish up her act, to package deal it, to persist with the rehearsed script. If she falls into this temptation, she is going to lose the power of the mushy magic that comes via her body and personality. Then she would be simply another intelligent woman performer. What made the piece and Annie special have been within the little issues...the best way she stayed in full view

talking to us as she changed clothes...her giggling because the douche water saved leaking out of her long after that scene had ended...the love of people who bubbled out of her very being. Photos flashed on the display, earlier than and after images, first of Annie. This slide show revealed that Annie Sprinkle is a self-creation of a shy, awkward, fats, Jewish lady named Ellen from nowhere, U.S.A. Annie has and is all the pieces that Ellen dreamed of. But Sprinkle never stops at biographic monologs, which are self-indulgent. Her slideshow quickly included earlier than and after photos of very common women who transformed proper earlier than our eyes into completely different people, into sex goddesses. Some have been professional strippers and intercourse queens. But numerous them were housewives, nurses, artists whom Annie and Vera transformed into their secret, hidden selves. The clear message is that this self-creation,

self-transformation, is feasible for anybody...and not only for intercourse goddesses. Still a nagging feeling remained. All of this was too neat, too nice, just so many rationalizations of a porno victim who denies all of the pain and damage. This feeling floated round by way of her cute bosom

ballet...and via the outrageous, taboo-breaking, jack-off scene reading the bible. The floating, nagging feeling was the lack of deep human emotion, the lack shared by porn, new age spiritualists, and

exhausting-core feminists. But Annie took purpose on this feeling. She mentioned most of her experiences in the sex business have been good...however...then she took us on a nightmarish journey by all the sweaty spermy dirty hurt, sucking rubber cocks faster faster deeper deeper in factories with bodiless angry male voices screaming at her about ache, about cunts and bitches, making her into an object, not a sex object, no sex in this nightmare, simply sucking till gagging, puking, screaming, body shaking. We then knew Annie Sprinkle is a superb actor, each physically and emotionally, to channel this imaginative and prescient. Then we watched Annie quietly transmute all of this negativity into personal power, into a human wisdom, all within her body. She grows, expands, turning into a shaman. She is now able to carry out the ultimate ritual. Her physique has turn out to be the temple, the universe. By turning her body on right into a holy orgasm, Annie by the use of pleasure, pushed the world somewhat back on the monitor. Suddenly, we had been within the primal cave, the sex temple, with our dead associates, many dead of Aids, watching something

sacred. As her orgasm rose, her magical presence expanded to embrace everybody in the theatre. I then knew I used to be experiencing top-of-the-line performances. Annie believes that sex heals cosmically and personally, physically and emotionally. I left the Harmony heat and glad and glad. What does Annie do for an encore? She invited members of the viewers to pose for a Polaroid with Annie's tits on their head...at five bucks a shot. Every shaman is aware of that you shouldn't go away folks out in the ozone. I finish this with a word about language. I have mentioned I don't assume Annie has a full understanding of what she is working with. The issue is language. We say Annie works with intercourse and has an orgasm. But the orgasm we are talking about could have been centered in the liver quite than the genitals, may have lasted for over an hour. It was for healing, or magic, and even different causes. All of which is not what the normal individual means when she says intercourse and orgasm. It confuses and limits using these

terms. There may be many alternative states, many various types of bodily energies, waiting to be found, however which are being masked beneath mislabels of "sex" and "orgasms".

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