Mistress Jade herself was asked how she wished to be depicted in this one.
On a moonlit balcony she stands in a long night-blue dress and holds a whip. Before going out to the garden to whip a slave who is chained to the tree branch, she pauses for a drink presented to her by her favourite slave-girl. Ivy runs round the walls and creeps up a human lamp-holder, totally encased in leather.
The first time I saw the internet was a complete revelation. One summer’s day around ’96 I was at the seaside home of an erotic writer, who also happened to be a pioneer of the web. He had invited me to see his new Apple Mac – “his wonderful machine” and the astonishing ‘Internet’. Through a fug of heavy cigarette smoke I gazed at his magic lantern, at something called a ‘website’! “Surely they can’t show that ??” I gasped as we looked at some dubious page. I was reminded of the famous lines of Keats poem, ‘On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer’ :-
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken;
I could see that the rules had all changed. We could now write and depict virtually what we wished. Oh, sure, the webhost was in between but they were usually quite liberal, hippy and unintrusive . And kinky art was liberated, as was a lot more. No longer did I need to worry whether my drawings would be published because I could be the publisher. (Though I still always self-censor I don’t know why …for reasons of ‘taste’?)
Censorship had almost always existed in some shape or form until the internet. My earliest published drawings were all made with a dark cloud hanging over them – “will the publisher accept this?” “Can I get away with this? ” There were in fact no clear guidelines, which would have helped enormously. A lot depended on factors such as which party was in power or whom you were working for and we would all try to make sense of unclear directions. A mainstream magazine had to comply with the news vendor’s policies of what they were comfortable to put on sale. Smaller fetish magazines which allowed greater freedom could only be sold in sex-shops which were regularly raided by the authorities and restocked the next day. The extortionate mark-up on the goods meant they were never seriously out of pocket. So life continued in a haphazard way.
The point of this rambling is that for the past few years we have seen greater regulation coming in as the Internet has taken over our lives and become much more portable, so the content of the web has become a much great concern. This week I was suspended from Twitter for the image above*, one of a series I drew many years ago for OWK. My fault, as I should not have been using such a “violent” image for my public icon, which is required to be squeaky-clean. Make of that what you will. But it has made me reflect on how much we take for granted. At my age I can compare this to what came before and take it philosophically – oh well, just going back to the way it was. I don’t know how it will all play out but I remember clearly how one day pre-internet I tore up some drawings in frustration as I thought I was doomed to only ever get a single page in an obscure magazine that would never reach a wider public or earn me more than a few pennies. It is no exaggeration to say that without this disruptive technology coming along when it did, I might never have continued.
A very classic scene in classic monochrome. I usually try to avoid a dark dungeon location but occasionally it works well, as in this portrait of Mistress Jade of Boston , U.S.A. The commissioner of this portrait kneels before his adored mistress and awaits his punishment at her hands. She will start with a very robust face-slapping and then will take the objects on the table for more intense torments.
A beautiful spring day and a gentle breeze. Daffodils bloom, sheltered by the endless extent of Hadrian’s wall, a short journey from the chambers of Mistress Celeste in Newcastle Upon Tyne. Her expensive thigh-high boots crush the grass underfoot as she takes aim with her single-tail whip. Her muscular slave, bound by taut ropes, tenses in anticipation and waits for the first lashing.
Was this once a man, now destined to wait for Mistress Sakura Strike to come upstairs to play with him?
She gazes up to the moon above, ignoring the groans beneath her and muses on her next adventure.
In the corner of the room, a gentleman puppet in top-hat and tails, who fell for her charms. He danced and dined with her once but now lies discarded in the corner, waiting like the rocking-horse for her occasional visits.
New York based Mistress Chloe in classic corset, see-through skirt and stockings straddles the commissioner of the painting in an elegant spacious lounge, and looks round at us knowingly.
His role is perhaps a delivery boy (in chastity) who has to deliver roses to her house. The number is significant as the number of years that the commissioner has served her.
On the coffee table by the sofa, a copy of the contact magazine “Dominant Mystique ” of the type used before the Internet.
The number of artists who could be classified as a “femdom artist” is quite small, so when one of us passes it is fitting to mark it in some way. Namio Harukawa died last month as I reported in the previous post . So I wished to draw something in memory of him and, much as a composer might take a theme of another late composer, and write his own set of variations on it, I took a representative drawing of his and without copying it, redrew it in my own style. It is important to emphasise that I was not trying to make it look like his art or pretend to make it one of his artworks.
It was simply taking the theme, and re-interpreting it in my own way.
For the model I asked permission to include the likeness of
Ms Ryoko Kitagawa 北川繚子女王様, founder of Kitagawa-pro films, who was for many years associated with him.
Well, the result was rather strange-quite different from my usual work, but I was pleased with the experiment.
I hope he would be too.
For this portrait I was given free rein to develop a very weird setting.
The Goddess Morning Star ( exotic Gothic Queen of the Night) blissfully chooses and examines her whips, imagining the torment they will inflict.
In the background her sacrificial victim awaits, bound securely by an…insect, is that ? Some rather invasive huge flowers hover nearby as tendrils from bizarre plants hold him fast.
An excursion into a dark and unsettling fantasy world…
Madam Press, Proprietress of The Dollhouse, a specialist in age-regression fantasy, is depicted here giving a bottle-feed to one of her charges, held snugly within a custom feeding-chute. Her mini-me doll beside her reflects her white pussy-bow blouse and apron, black skirt and boots together with a disciplinary hairbrush.
Unusually the whole decor is very light and airy – pine and magnolia, far from the darkness of most dungeon fantasy.
In her cute pink uniform Ms Jaded Halo seems every inch the innocent student, ready for class.
But the setting is altogether more bizarre.
She stands in a strange cave, symbolic of the virtual arena where her slaves cluster enthralled by her, awaiting her attention, and there to provide her with any tribute she desires, accessible whenever she wishes from their grossly distended bellies, as they hang upside-down like spiders’ prey.
When she is finished with them she will prick them with a pin, to deflate the bulge.
One lies at her feet, a husk of his previous devoted existence.
This is the third portrait for Ms Jaded Halo, a larger size commissioned by one of her loyal admirers. She already possesses two smaller portraits.