The Pussyphone and Performance Art
First and foremost: I will be linking to a webpage that has a video on it. The video is not safe for work. If you don’t want to watch it, or you can’t at the moment, well, I can’t explain what is happening in any rational format. I’ll try. But for the full effect, watch the video.
Here it is. A little way down the page, before the pictures. Watch the video before anything else.
Then read on I guess. If you haven’t drowned yourself already.
So. That exists.
The pussyphone is a ‘musical’ instrument that uses what looks like a bicycle pump to force air into a vagina through a tube. When the air rushes back out, the farting sound it makes is, I suppose, the intended result.
Finally, an instrument with all the appeal of dry-heaving in a port-a-potty! Set down your guitars, slide your pianos into the closet, break your harps and flutes and cellos, let the trumpets tarnish in the alleys – finally, music is finished, it is complete. No more need be made. Let all the voices of humankind cry out “Rest! Rest! O musicians, set your hearts on other dreams, for we have now all we need, the Heavens speak to us, and the name of the voice of God is pussyphone!”
If you skimmed that page the video is on (and you shouldn’t) you might have noticed a little sentence or two. I bring this up to emphasize that I do not usually loathe art. A new instrument? Cool, I’d say on any other day.
But the pussyphone, accompanied by the spastic wailing of a woman who no doubt is under numerous restraining orders to stay away from cat shelters, isn’t just an odd instrument. According to that site, this whole performance “offers a reflection on cultural rights for all audiences.”
Naturally that is what anyone would take away from this performance. I certainly had food for thought about cultural rights afterwards. For example – I hate that a culture exists wherein these two women can claim that manufactured vaginal farts and histrionic wailing constitute a “reflection on cultural rights”, and I hate that an audience showed up for it.
I mean, generally I think that I should come away from an artistic endeavor with a handful of new thoughts. They don’t have to be deep, they don’t have to be revolutionary, and they don’t have to be ones that I like. But this – what the hell is this? I cannot fathom the purpose behind it. I do not understand the intent, nor the perceived result. I have learned nothing except that this performance was stupid and a waste of my time. It hasn’t changed me, it has only irritated me with its assertion that is a “reflection on cultural rights.”
I thought, well, maybe there’s something here. So I’m proud to announce the latest development in musical technology: a machine that blows raspberries onto a man’s testicles.
(Like this, but imagine he’s doing it to a nutsack, and also that he is a machine.)
I’m composing a sonata around this new instrument. There will be a single performance. Men will leap up in amazement. Women will faint in joy. Babies will burst apart and immediately reform, again and again. A cat will cry a single tear.
The performance will be a meditation on the perseverance of mankind in the face of adversity. It will also be a reflection into the darker aspects of humanity.
I look forward to the standing ovation and the many millions of dollars that are doubtlessly coming. Thank you.
Bonus after-post chit-chat! Just a little pro-tip; don’t ever, ever Google “pussyphone” unless you want to see numerous pictures and videos of phones being pushed into or forced out of vaginas. If you do make such a mistake, just go look at the moon for a while, and imagine how much better life would be if you lived on an airless, lifeless rock, about a quarter of a million miles from the nearest human being. (Also there are no phones on the moon, so thank God for that).
Bonus bonus! Other things that show up in a Google image search for “pussyphone” – the cover for Carly Rae Jepsen’s single Call Me Maybe; a picture of internet radio service Pandora’s reception desk; some pictures of just phones; two separate pictures of the same horse; and just about all of the porno ever.
Posted on August 31, 2012, in Ramblings of an Unbalanced Mind and tagged Ana de Alba, La Congelada de Uva, musical instrument, performance art, pussyphone, Rocío Boliver, sonata, vagina farts. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.