You have no idea what happened in this chair.
Since raging apocalyptic viral zombies and other cannibalistic humanoids, both Canadian and American, seem to be the order of the day, it must have been sheer synchronicity that prompted me to stage my own blood-soaked zombie rampage last week at The Hole Gallery in New York City. I’ve actually been presenting these sweet systematic slaughters of bloody carnage for quite a while now, adding the zombie element for the first time four years ago at the Antigua Casa Haiku Gallery in Barcelona. Audience members are usually delighted to participate in these horny, gorny performances, but in New York City the visitors to the gallery were a bit more standoffish, probably owing to the fact that they didn’t want to get their designer clothes all bloodied. So the participation was largely limited to the five models that I enlisted, the brave people who work at the gallery, and a couple of adventurous civilians who happily sat in the scary chair and deigned to be abducted, bound, and tortured by the U.S. zombie terrorist soldiers. What follows is my own documentation of the event with supplementary comments. Enjoy.
The dreaded chair, before.
I always warm up the chair for the victims.
My DJ for the event, Susanne Oberbeck of No Bra, also warms up the chair. She played appropriate music during the U.S. zombie soldier torture session, like Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.”
Artist Brian Kenny getting his body camouflage applied. (Make-up and make-up artists kindly supplied by Mac Cosmetics.)
Artist Slava Mogutin getting the body camouflage treatment in the basement of The Hole Gallery.
Slava’s camo’d chest.
Artist Gio Black Peter, camouflaged. (He later put a stick of dynamite up his ass, but it was too wet to light the fuse.)
Artist Carter Harrington (hooded) as the first victim being led through the crowd.
I think the body camo paint could really become a new fashion trend.
Carter being led to the dreaded chair.
The torture begins.
The first blood is drawn.
Carter pleads for his life.
Incidentally, the zombie terrorists support a new feminist intifada…
… and they’re against body fascism.
Things start to really get out of control.
Carter is about to get his head blown off.
Artist Kembra Pfahler joins the terrorist torture session and leads a game of ring around the bloody victim.
Gio makes a blood angel in the carnage.
Carter has his “Platoon” moment.
Brian and the other zombie terrorists slip and slide around in the blood. I have no idea why they’re not eating the victim. I guess they weren’t hungry that day…
… or maybe they don’t like people to watch them when they eat.
The wonderfully game Kathy Grayson, director of The Hole Gallery, casually smokes a cigarette while undergoing torture.
A brave member of the audience kindly consents to a bit of bloody torture…
…although I wonder if he got more than he bargained for.
"Silence doesn’t equal violence." Whatever that means.
Artist Jorge Ulrich, who works at The Hole, eagerly takes the chair.
Although everyone was clearly having fun, the most fun part for me is trying to make the torture look as authentic as possible.
Abu Ghraib, eat your heart out.
My favorite shot.
The old blood in the helmet trick.
God bless America.
A cute young female journalist who claimed to work for the Franco Foundation (James Franco, not Francesco) got a real blood soaking, but she was very sweet about it.
Brian and Slava, hot terrorist zombies.
Did I mention that they were gay zombie terrorist feminist soldiers?
The dreaded chair, after.
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