I’ve never put so much work into a digital piece before, been working around the clock with this one. It was fun to do but the story behind it is awful and disturbing – about the private jet plane “Lolita Express” – owned by Jeffrey Epstein. What a horrible concept and I feel so much compassion and sadness for those poor girls. My heart is reaching out to them through this intense piece. I hope you like it and fins your own stories in it as well.
This is the third piece of my “Red Story” suite – a visual series about the traumas I am slowly overcoming. Instead of my usual perspective of examining the emotions of the survivor/victim (me), I am focusing on the crazy actions and bizarre behavior of the abusers. In the third story piece I am exploring the strange behavior of one of my ex boyfriends. Our relationship was based on a power imbalance. I lived in his house, he was a ‘master’ – dominant, in control, better, stronger, smarter – whilst I was made into a submissive ‘lolita’, a living doll, an object, weaker, dependent and isolated. This imbalance had many dimensions – it was economical, material, physical, emotional, psychological and sexual.
During our first year of living together in his house, he had a bizarre ritual of unzipping his pants right after he had served me dinner, then he would take out his (soft) dick and place it on the dining table and would just be standing like that for a while – so proud of himself and his ‘thing’. This usually happened when the family across the street (a mom, dad and two teenage boys) also were having their dinner and could see him standing like that, through their window. I would do what all good girls are supposed to do in situations where men make us uncomfortable – I would giggle.
But after I was out of this toxic relationship, I started to question this absurd routine. What was he trying to tell me – with his dick on the table, next to the food I was about to enjoy? What did he demonstrate? Was it an act of intimidation, a power demonstration, psychological abuse or perhaps an expression of a sexual fetish (with the eyes of our neighbor family as an important factor)?
This is the first time ever I have made a visual representation of the physical abuse I endured for the 5 years I was married to a violent man. I was only 19 years old when I met him. He was my first love and the relationship left many scars and wounds (and PTSD). It has taken me 30 years to be able to create a ‘portrait’ of his violent behavior, I usually depict images of my own emotions and reactions (fear. anxiety and rage). I have very clear memories of his physical abuse: his swinging arms, the slow and steady walk in my direction, before he would wrestle me to the floor – and his multiple faces: the man I love, the man I feared and the man I lost every time he turned evil. The focus in my art has opened up, from the focus of my fear and rage – to exploring the sick behavior of the abuser. Also giving him a face, like a mailbox, a place to return the responsibility, the shame and darkness to its rightful owner.
“Hitman” is dedicated to all victims and survivors of domestic abuse. ♥