What I Learned from the Sex-Positive Community. Part 3: Incorporating Practices into an Art Context.
Illustration: Filip Adrian
We are honored that Eva Neklyaeva interviewed us for her articles on the connections between sex-positive spaces and art spaces for the online magazine *Various Artists*, an initiative of the Swiss Arts Council Pro Helvetia.
Eva is a curator working at the intersection of sexuality and art. In her three-part series, she speaks with colleagues who are also active at this intersection. Part 3 of the series—accompanied by images by Milan-based illustrator Filip Adrian—focuses on the incorporation of the practices discussed so far into an art context.
And Parts 1 and 2 are also worth reading!
And in case you're curious and can't get enough -> here's the full original interview:
1. Could you introduce yourself and your practice to readers who aren't familiar with it?
We are Matìs d’Arc and Beata Absalon, workshop facilitators (and more) at “luhmen d’arc”—a label for experimental experiences in creative intimacy. On a practical level, we offer courses, sessions, jams, and playspaces for encounters that could be associated with the terms sex positivity and BDSM, but also with the performing arts and improvisation. The term “sex-positive” is both a blessing and a curse here, since we embrace the sensual, erotic, and kinky, but it goes far beyond this realm. Or let’s put it this way: we’re driven by the question of what sex actually is and can be. To explore this, we create unconventional, playful gatherings grounded in both care and daring, curiosity and compassion, infused with plenty of humor as well as a critical perspective. To make it more concrete, let us give you an example: One of our workshops is called “House of Neurotic Womxn,” which celebrates those mesmerizing cinematic images where women lose it—or enter another state of mind—through obsession, hysteria, or ecstasy. So we watch these scenes and then try to reenact and reclaim them. The goal is to embrace the often-neglected grotesque, monstrous, weird, and overwhelming elements of eros—acknowledging that while mainstream media may have conditioned us to strive for the “perfect” seductive bedroom look, it might be more rewarding to allow ourselves to engage in (supposedly) ugly grimacing. Hopefully, this will expand the range of understanding, feeling, and acting in the world we inhabit. And first and foremost: to enjoy! Now, this is a pretty elaborate workshop, but we also like to dive deep into the little pleasures and techniques of being sensual, like the art of biting.
We use methods from theatrical role-playing, movement exercises, somatics, and creativity techniques to reflect on how we relate to one another, in order to explore and envision new ways of relating to ourselves, each other, and our environment. And sometimes all we need to do is give ourselves permission: yes—you can actually spend an hour massaging someone’s mouth!
The way we work is closer to research, trial and error, asking questions, and remaining in a state of bewilderment rather than mastery and control—which tend to numb or gloss over what is actually quite interesting about struggling, not knowing, and imagining, amid awkwardness and surprise. I suppose we want to encourage people to discover what works for them, rather than following a set of rules about “right” and “wrong.”
2. In your work with luhmen d'arc, you offer many workshops focused on slowing down, resting, meditation, and becoming more mindful. Why do you think it’s important to offer practices like these?
The easy answer would be that it defies the demands placed on us by fast-paced systems of competition, consumerism, and profit. But when we focus too much on being anti-mainstream, we risk forgetting what is inherently valuable about slowing down. And as a side note: one could argue that slowing down is already mainstream, given how lucrative the wellness industry is.
We mentioned that luhmen d‘arc explores intimate practices and scenes for their unique qualities, lovingly yet critically asking in what ways they are transformative, silly, creepy, subversive, pretentious, therapeutic, erotic—or not. This requires questioning what is usually taken for granted and resisting easy, comforting answers. It requires time and idleness—time to try and fail, yet still return and learn, and at times get it miraculously right. Looking at things from different perspectives takes time. Letting experiences sink in. Some of the things we do can feel overwhelming—for example, when we hold workshops that involve pain through flogging or rope bondage—pain that is usually avoided. Those strange new sensations evolve over time: they not only change during a flogging session, but it’s quite likely that you’ll process this experience for the next few days or longer, as if it becomes a companion. And you’ll simply get more out of it if you allow yourself the luxury of not rushing. It’s like in yoga when the practice ends with Shavasana: simply lying down and doing nothing, so the body’s cells can truly integrate the practice—or whatever is happening there!
It’s quite important to us that participants in our workshops don’t just follow a specific set of techniques we show them or copy our style. We hope to encourage them to find their own unique style and take personal responsibility for following their desires, drawing inspiration from the space we provide. That also takes time, because it’s easier to just do what someone tells you. Usually, when people are asked in an intimate situation what they want, they go blank. What do I want?! And is it really what I want, or what I’m supposed to want? One way to keep from getting lost in those questions is to return to the basics: breathing, feeling, hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting. Cultivating something like a beginner’s mind.
3. When working in the s+ spaces and in the arts spaces, how does your practice change? Can you identify the main difference in intention?
But is it really an “either/or” situation? I suppose one could say that sex-positive spaces can be artistic, while artistic spaces can be sex-positive. Also, aesthetics and a reflection on the tools, objects, and materials being used interest us regardless of the setting. The difference might lie in the visitors’ expectations. If they come to a workshop, they might already arrive with a mindset of wanting to interact and be challenged, whereas an art space tends to treat visitors as observers and an audience, nestled more safely in the dark space in front of a stage. And then the opposite can be true as well. Perhaps there is a tendency in our work to flip some of these expectations. To draw from art spaces what can be learned about dramaturgy, choreography, and theatricality, and to infuse workshop spaces with these elements—spaces that (unfortunately) tend to be treated more as so-called “authentic” or “real” spaces—terms that lead to misunderstandings. As if there were something wrong with performing one’s identity, sexuality, and interactions. Aren’t they mostly performed? And would that make them any less real? From this perspective, it becomes difficult not to see human behavior as an ongoing work of art in progress.
Furthermore, in art spaces we tend to focus more on conveying the idea that it can be worthwhile to integrate sexuality into the artistic process (which, historically speaking, has always been the case when you consider the myriad metaphors surrounding the ecstasies of creation and procreation—giving birth to ideas, books, etc.) and how both sex and art are probably less about self-expression and more about overcoming the burdens of selfhood for a few moments by touching the alien and unknown. Since we’ve figured this out, we’ve struggled to find the right words to describe what we’re doing. We tried “curating spaces” and “engineering fantasies,” but now it’s more about “opening a portal for sex to enter—like in a séance” or “performing exorcisms.”
4. What is your take on the discussion about safer spaces?
Oh, there’s so much to say about this! While I find it quite self-evident that the moment we deal with messy and risky things like bodies, desires, the unconscious, taboos, and so on, this can only be done when certain safety measures are in place. You’re absolutely right to talk about “safeR” spaces, knowing that there’s no such thing as a “safe space”—that would be an illusion. Maybe you could compare it to riding roller coasters. Enjoying this kind of fun is only possible if you can buckle up and if the ride is regularly inspected. Nevertheless, no one can stop you from not having fun on a roller coaster, from feeling nauseous or vomiting, and from never wanting to do it again. And sometimes there are accidents, too…
Something less obvious that I’d love to share is my impression from the last retreat I attended in Spain a few days ago—a retreat that focused on one of our five senses each day to tap into the realms of dreams and fantasies by awakening those senses. And we all realized that we’re way too polite and accommodating with each other, and this gets in the way of having interesting and engaging sessions! In the spirit of creating safer spaces, we gave participants so many reminders about possible ways to exit a scene if it got too intense, how to calm themselves down, and how to adjust the exercise if it was too much for them—that most of the participants became too hesitant with each other and asked us to push them harder. That was quite surprising for us and reminded us of the importance of context and relational dynamics. The safety reminders aren’t important in and of themselves, but their importance varies depending on who you’re working with. I suppose I tend to do most consent exercises with newbies or even creepy people in mind. But if I then approach the caring and sensitive people with the same attitude, they just become more cautious—so what they actually would have needed would be fewer consent exercises and more exercises on how to become more bossy, selfish, courageous, bitchy… but not as a personality trait, more as a helpful technique, as a way to make something happen that will delight everyone involved. Sometimes consent helps so that everyone involved can enjoy themselves. And sometimes pushing people a little harder can help them enjoy themselves. It really depends, and it’s worth figuring out what’s needed, instead of following some one-size-fits-all strategy.
