Get my Frolic off
Got back late last night from Frolicon.
I got there near the very end of Broken Angels, which wasn't nearly as conceptually interesting as Altered Carbon. AC managed to make an interesting story which completely explored the deviation of the story (eg, what the world would be like if we could download personalities). Broken Angels, on the other hand, just sort of exists in the world he created in AC, without adding anything interesting to it. I had high hopes for the xeno-archeological aspects, but in the end, was pretty disappointed.
He still writes well, though.
In my recap below, I'm specifically avoiding any discussion of the vendor's booths, as that will need to be a separate post. It....raised some interesting questions which I want to talk about with specific people before sharing my thoughts to the world.
That last sentence sounds funny to me.
I had reserved a room, thinking that Nigel and BlueBeard would be coming to Frolic, but when I found out they weren't coming, I kept the room and went looking for roommates. I ended up offering the extra bed to a nice-seeming fellow who called himself Black Mac. It turned out he had five friends with him, so the room ended up being packed with a bunch of pervs whom I got along with quite well, except for the youngest couple, a pair of raver kids with absolutely no respect for other people. Their own friends were quite irritated with them, as they constantly ignored requests for privacy because they desperately needed 5HTP, spent much of the con eating drugs and watching TV, and playing completely inappropriate "mood music" when anybody tried to fuck.
The others, though, were quite enjoyable company, and were positively bending backward to show their gratitude.
After situating them in my room on Thursday, I checked out the Con Virgin Sacrifice (tangent: http://www.sinfest.net/archive_page.php?comicID=2404 ), and played some naughty party games, running into ladydagger2evil and rosetiger, neither of whom recognized me without the help of their SOs, neither of whom should have any real idea what I looked like. By that time, the drive was starting to get to me, so I decided to clock out.
I told Black Mac and his crew not to worry about waking me up, as I'd rather wake up to a party in my room than sleep through a good time. His recently acquired wife was also extremely sweet, doggedly searching for an emotional connection with this stranger who had just made her weekend. I kept having to explain to her that I don't like to learn people by that sort of interrogation method, although I appreciated the attempt. He kept trying to throw women at me all night. *tap, tap* "Hey, you want to come to the hot tub with us? This girl thinks you're cute." Mumble, mumble, snore. *tap, tap* "Hey, we're going to the dungeon. Do you want to come with? There's a girl down there looking for somebody to beat on her." Mumble, mumble, snore.
*tap, tap* "This is [Name Deleted]. She's been waiting for you to wake up all night so she can jump you." Uh...okay. Let me brush my teeth.
Friday, I woke up and went to the Photo Club, which seemed like it was basically aimed at GWCs to suggest ways that they could actually start making art. There were a few guys there who seemed to genuinely love photography and not just naked women (thinking about this further, these were also the only ones who spoke up, so perhaps my disdain for the general would be disproved by a familiarity with the specific). After a brief slideshow, several models popped out of the woodwork for people to shoot.
I generally dislike that sort of shooting situation. First off, there's nowhere you can shoot that doesn't look like it's a hotel. Second, there's always a crowd of photographers all trying to direct the one model who has taken all her clothes off. I just can't exert the sort of Total Control that I prefer when working with my camera.
The guy leading it, elvis, did have some points that were well worth repeating. The whole "you miss 100% of the opportunities you don't try for" thing which I need to work on harder, no matter how hard I worked on it before. I asked him a few questions about finding models through the web, and there was a general agreement that people from MM and OMP (models and photographers both) tend to be unreliable, that almost everyone tends to be unreliable except for your closest friends. It was nice to hear that I wasn't alone with that problem.
One comment elvis made strangely echoed the conversation I had with ladydagger2evil the night before, and I found myself returning to the idea for the rest of the convention. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I brought it up again. I even mention it in my Alterati article. There definitely seems to be a preference for women in erotic and fetish photography, to the point where you could almost call it a homophobic reaction, except that it's limited to men. I mean, hey, lesbians are totally cool.
After that, I went to a seminar on the issues of polyamory. There again, it was gratifying to hear people who had the same sorts of concerns I did. Specifically, there were a few guys struggling with looking for primary partners while dating secondary partners. I surprised myself by having advice to offer.
I picked up Lacuna Diving Bunny from the airport, and tried to take a nap when we got back(rudely interrupted every 15 minutes by people who think that a Do Not Disturb sign is an indication to knock loudly before using their key), since she had been in transit for nearly twelve hours, waiting for a standby flight.
We partied for a while, and at one point I had to leave LDB with Will O' Whisper's friends while I got publicly mauled by Feisty Con Girl, who had brightened my morning earlier that day. We hit the Classic City Kings show, I marveling at the private information I knew about each of them from Prefers Sacrifice. I was wearing the white Mandarin suit I had tailored in Hong Kong. LDB was wearing an outfit I had bought her earlier in the day, in a surprising burst of generosity.
Friday night, I mostly remember creeps and wierdos, and one girl who was astoundingly dense. No matter what I said to her, she insisted on talking to me about my ethnic origins, making broad assumptions about me and defending her opinions by insisting that they couldn't be racist. It reminded me of Roo's friend, who assumed that any dark-skinned man she saw Roo talking to must be me. Things like that irritate me beyond reason.
FCG kept skimming past us, afraid she would offend LDB. Finally, I had to sit her down and explain about the whole thing. Once the details were named, she understood, but felt a strange kind of generosity to LDB - Bunny didn't know if she had to leave late Saturday night or early Sunday, and FCG disliked the idea of stealing her companion away for even a few hours of LDB's potentially short weekend. Such strange etiquette from a girl who preferred me to never learn her last name. Black Mac later told me that FCG "ran longer than most battery powered objects."
LDB and I went to bed around 3am, reassuring our roommates that we'd rather wake to a party than prevent one from happening. We'd become more at ease with each other over the course of the day, slowly assured that the other group would not cause the sort of drama so frequently associated with this sort of arrangements, and so I frequently woke up to the sound of shrieking orgasms, or naked bodies pressed against my covers as they kissed my forehead and whispered thanks for sharing my room with them.
Saturday, my day started, after a heated alarm bell was rung four times in quick succession by Black Mac's tongue. His wife was apologetic at first, until she saw how appreciative LDB was of the show. I headed to the second Photo Club, slightly more optimistic after a conversation the previous day with Elvis. Patty tagged along, and I knew that she was hoping I would photograph her at the seminar -- something I've been strangely unwilling to do at home.
Another couple that was sharing the room with us, a very shy couple who had barely raised their voices above a whisper, were also there, along with dream_wolf, who had experienced some kind of bonding moment with me the night before over a discussion of our cameras. The couple, I'll call them W and B, lacking enough knowledge to name them more suitably, came over to us after Elvis's short lecture (during which he made a few extremely gratifying references to some of my work which he'd seen the day before), and W suggested that LDB pair up with B for a shoot.
The shoot went very well, and we quickly developed a crowd of photo enthusiasts behind W and I, furiously snapping away as I directed the two ladies. At first, I was very irritated with this - my unfamiliarity with my flash, the meager backdrop, and the noise of the room had been vexing my OCD tendencies already -- but later someone, I think it was dream_wolf, pointed out that those enthusiasts had seen me direct two models during a shoot, that I had in a very particular sense, contributed to the convention and to their photographic interest.
Seen that way, thinking of it as me sharing knowledge, rather than them stealing my efforts, was....I lack words. It was nice. It made me feel good. It made me feel like I had been churlish before, that my feelings had been unbecoming of a gentleman.
Afterward, W and B joined us for lunch, once again breaking barriers with photography, sweet muse of my life. Afterward, another often-interrupted nap, followed by a demo on wax play -- an extremely interesting topic which I will have to pursue.
The entertainment on Saturday night was a glorious line up, and I wanted to see all of it. The Big Mama Burlesque show, which I saw a good chunk of, was brilliant. It also shed some hope on my preferences for a certain degree of....subtlety in erotic art work. I missed the Most Spankable Ass competition, as well as the drag show. I even ended up missing most of the Seven Deadly Sins party. I was in my room, as were a select few others.
The rest of the night was the usual sort of alcohol induced loveliness which is so pathetically described as "convention party." I was wearing the blood red sleeveless suit I had made in HK, and the Maxx Empire mask which had inspired it. I frequently stopped by WoW's little chill-space of a party, both for the chance to sit and smoke (one of my few complaints about the new location was the lack of a public seated space that allowed smoking), and for a fast-growing taste for the company there.
I had many stimulating conversations at Frolicon: the many discussions of art ethics and gender roles in the fetish community, honest examinations of my preferred lifestyle choices with people experienced in the issues, even a surprising number of introductions to models from around the country, courtesy of people at the con who somehow knew me and my work. Yet none of these had the qualities of ease and connection that I found in the small room on the second floor.
LDB had a 6am flight, so I decided to pack my car with my belongings at the same time. I drove her there, and on the way back received an imperious (and quite welcome) request for my company back on the second floor. I lounged there, quiet conversation the byword of the night, until the sun came up.
Sunday, I made a few final farewells, and made my way to the highway home. Black Mac and his crew invited me back to their place for a post-convention wind down, and FCG pressed me to go, an extremely difficult request to refuse. But the convention had inspired me, in some little understood way. I needed to be back among my printer paper and uninterrupted design space. I have ideas, plans, and dreams, more alive than they have been all winter, and I wanted to spend some time with them.
I got there near the very end of Broken Angels, which wasn't nearly as conceptually interesting as Altered Carbon. AC managed to make an interesting story which completely explored the deviation of the story (eg, what the world would be like if we could download personalities). Broken Angels, on the other hand, just sort of exists in the world he created in AC, without adding anything interesting to it. I had high hopes for the xeno-archeological aspects, but in the end, was pretty disappointed.
He still writes well, though.
In my recap below, I'm specifically avoiding any discussion of the vendor's booths, as that will need to be a separate post. It....raised some interesting questions which I want to talk about with specific people before sharing my thoughts to the world.
That last sentence sounds funny to me.
I had reserved a room, thinking that Nigel and BlueBeard would be coming to Frolic, but when I found out they weren't coming, I kept the room and went looking for roommates. I ended up offering the extra bed to a nice-seeming fellow who called himself Black Mac. It turned out he had five friends with him, so the room ended up being packed with a bunch of pervs whom I got along with quite well, except for the youngest couple, a pair of raver kids with absolutely no respect for other people. Their own friends were quite irritated with them, as they constantly ignored requests for privacy because they desperately needed 5HTP, spent much of the con eating drugs and watching TV, and playing completely inappropriate "mood music" when anybody tried to fuck.
The others, though, were quite enjoyable company, and were positively bending backward to show their gratitude.
After situating them in my room on Thursday, I checked out the Con Virgin Sacrifice (tangent: http://www.sinfest.net/archive_page.php?comicID=2404 ), and played some naughty party games, running into ladydagger2evil and rosetiger, neither of whom recognized me without the help of their SOs, neither of whom should have any real idea what I looked like. By that time, the drive was starting to get to me, so I decided to clock out.
I told Black Mac and his crew not to worry about waking me up, as I'd rather wake up to a party in my room than sleep through a good time. His recently acquired wife was also extremely sweet, doggedly searching for an emotional connection with this stranger who had just made her weekend. I kept having to explain to her that I don't like to learn people by that sort of interrogation method, although I appreciated the attempt. He kept trying to throw women at me all night. *tap, tap* "Hey, you want to come to the hot tub with us? This girl thinks you're cute." Mumble, mumble, snore. *tap, tap* "Hey, we're going to the dungeon. Do you want to come with? There's a girl down there looking for somebody to beat on her." Mumble, mumble, snore.
*tap, tap* "This is [Name Deleted]. She's been waiting for you to wake up all night so she can jump you." Uh...okay. Let me brush my teeth.
Friday, I woke up and went to the Photo Club, which seemed like it was basically aimed at GWCs to suggest ways that they could actually start making art. There were a few guys there who seemed to genuinely love photography and not just naked women (thinking about this further, these were also the only ones who spoke up, so perhaps my disdain for the general would be disproved by a familiarity with the specific). After a brief slideshow, several models popped out of the woodwork for people to shoot.
I generally dislike that sort of shooting situation. First off, there's nowhere you can shoot that doesn't look like it's a hotel. Second, there's always a crowd of photographers all trying to direct the one model who has taken all her clothes off. I just can't exert the sort of Total Control that I prefer when working with my camera.
The guy leading it, elvis, did have some points that were well worth repeating. The whole "you miss 100% of the opportunities you don't try for" thing which I need to work on harder, no matter how hard I worked on it before. I asked him a few questions about finding models through the web, and there was a general agreement that people from MM and OMP (models and photographers both) tend to be unreliable, that almost everyone tends to be unreliable except for your closest friends. It was nice to hear that I wasn't alone with that problem.
One comment elvis made strangely echoed the conversation I had with ladydagger2evil the night before, and I found myself returning to the idea for the rest of the convention. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I brought it up again. I even mention it in my Alterati article. There definitely seems to be a preference for women in erotic and fetish photography, to the point where you could almost call it a homophobic reaction, except that it's limited to men. I mean, hey, lesbians are totally cool.
After that, I went to a seminar on the issues of polyamory. There again, it was gratifying to hear people who had the same sorts of concerns I did. Specifically, there were a few guys struggling with looking for primary partners while dating secondary partners. I surprised myself by having advice to offer.
I picked up Lacuna Diving Bunny from the airport, and tried to take a nap when we got back(rudely interrupted every 15 minutes by people who think that a Do Not Disturb sign is an indication to knock loudly before using their key), since she had been in transit for nearly twelve hours, waiting for a standby flight.
We partied for a while, and at one point I had to leave LDB with Will O' Whisper's friends while I got publicly mauled by Feisty Con Girl, who had brightened my morning earlier that day. We hit the Classic City Kings show, I marveling at the private information I knew about each of them from Prefers Sacrifice. I was wearing the white Mandarin suit I had tailored in Hong Kong. LDB was wearing an outfit I had bought her earlier in the day, in a surprising burst of generosity.
Friday night, I mostly remember creeps and wierdos, and one girl who was astoundingly dense. No matter what I said to her, she insisted on talking to me about my ethnic origins, making broad assumptions about me and defending her opinions by insisting that they couldn't be racist. It reminded me of Roo's friend, who assumed that any dark-skinned man she saw Roo talking to must be me. Things like that irritate me beyond reason.
FCG kept skimming past us, afraid she would offend LDB. Finally, I had to sit her down and explain about the whole thing. Once the details were named, she understood, but felt a strange kind of generosity to LDB - Bunny didn't know if she had to leave late Saturday night or early Sunday, and FCG disliked the idea of stealing her companion away for even a few hours of LDB's potentially short weekend. Such strange etiquette from a girl who preferred me to never learn her last name. Black Mac later told me that FCG "ran longer than most battery powered objects."
LDB and I went to bed around 3am, reassuring our roommates that we'd rather wake to a party than prevent one from happening. We'd become more at ease with each other over the course of the day, slowly assured that the other group would not cause the sort of drama so frequently associated with this sort of arrangements, and so I frequently woke up to the sound of shrieking orgasms, or naked bodies pressed against my covers as they kissed my forehead and whispered thanks for sharing my room with them.
Saturday, my day started, after a heated alarm bell was rung four times in quick succession by Black Mac's tongue. His wife was apologetic at first, until she saw how appreciative LDB was of the show. I headed to the second Photo Club, slightly more optimistic after a conversation the previous day with Elvis. Patty tagged along, and I knew that she was hoping I would photograph her at the seminar -- something I've been strangely unwilling to do at home.
Another couple that was sharing the room with us, a very shy couple who had barely raised their voices above a whisper, were also there, along with dream_wolf, who had experienced some kind of bonding moment with me the night before over a discussion of our cameras. The couple, I'll call them W and B, lacking enough knowledge to name them more suitably, came over to us after Elvis's short lecture (during which he made a few extremely gratifying references to some of my work which he'd seen the day before), and W suggested that LDB pair up with B for a shoot.
The shoot went very well, and we quickly developed a crowd of photo enthusiasts behind W and I, furiously snapping away as I directed the two ladies. At first, I was very irritated with this - my unfamiliarity with my flash, the meager backdrop, and the noise of the room had been vexing my OCD tendencies already -- but later someone, I think it was dream_wolf, pointed out that those enthusiasts had seen me direct two models during a shoot, that I had in a very particular sense, contributed to the convention and to their photographic interest.
Seen that way, thinking of it as me sharing knowledge, rather than them stealing my efforts, was....I lack words. It was nice. It made me feel good. It made me feel like I had been churlish before, that my feelings had been unbecoming of a gentleman.
Afterward, W and B joined us for lunch, once again breaking barriers with photography, sweet muse of my life. Afterward, another often-interrupted nap, followed by a demo on wax play -- an extremely interesting topic which I will have to pursue.
The entertainment on Saturday night was a glorious line up, and I wanted to see all of it. The Big Mama Burlesque show, which I saw a good chunk of, was brilliant. It also shed some hope on my preferences for a certain degree of....subtlety in erotic art work. I missed the Most Spankable Ass competition, as well as the drag show. I even ended up missing most of the Seven Deadly Sins party. I was in my room, as were a select few others.
The rest of the night was the usual sort of alcohol induced loveliness which is so pathetically described as "convention party." I was wearing the blood red sleeveless suit I had made in HK, and the Maxx Empire mask which had inspired it. I frequently stopped by WoW's little chill-space of a party, both for the chance to sit and smoke (one of my few complaints about the new location was the lack of a public seated space that allowed smoking), and for a fast-growing taste for the company there.
I had many stimulating conversations at Frolicon: the many discussions of art ethics and gender roles in the fetish community, honest examinations of my preferred lifestyle choices with people experienced in the issues, even a surprising number of introductions to models from around the country, courtesy of people at the con who somehow knew me and my work. Yet none of these had the qualities of ease and connection that I found in the small room on the second floor.
LDB had a 6am flight, so I decided to pack my car with my belongings at the same time. I drove her there, and on the way back received an imperious (and quite welcome) request for my company back on the second floor. I lounged there, quiet conversation the byword of the night, until the sun came up.
Sunday, I made a few final farewells, and made my way to the highway home. Black Mac and his crew invited me back to their place for a post-convention wind down, and FCG pressed me to go, an extremely difficult request to refuse. But the convention had inspired me, in some little understood way. I needed to be back among my printer paper and uninterrupted design space. I have ideas, plans, and dreams, more alive than they have been all winter, and I wanted to spend some time with them.