Posts Tagged ‘pictures’

SEAF 2013

Monday, August 5th, 2013

Disclaimer: After a long week on my feet, I am a bit fried mentally, more than a bit exhausted physically, and yet still rather awake and energetic. My creativity is in the shitter, though, so if you’re hoping for poetry unfortunately I doubt you’ll find much this time. You will, however, find a blog entry about my experience performance directing for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival this year, and a little bit of a backstory as to why that’s kind of a Big Deal for me. Also; I speak only for myself on this blog, and do not represent any official stance of the FSPC or SEAF directorial committee here. Enjoy.

Well, that was really something!

This year’s Seattle Erotic Art Festival had us returning to one of my favorite festival venues – the Showbox Sodo – which, at the time of our last occupation in 2007, was the Fenix. The Showbox had the best facilities and friendliest staff of any venue I’ve worked in, ever. They were wonderful and contributed highly to my enjoyment this weekend.

After many years of vastness and what became a disproportionate focus on spectacle performance art and dance parties, it feels to me now that SEAF has again embraced its roots as an *ART* festival. Though the event wasn’t perfect (um, we seriously need to strike those walkway tables after 10pm next year – great when there’s 100 people, not so much when there’s more.), I would be hard pressed to be more pleased with the results of our hard work this year.

Up until 11pm, patrons could browse, hold a conversation, ask about the artwork and purchase pieces without being interrupted, or having to scream over loud thumping music. During our after-parties when we’d raised the volume some, patrons never had the lights illuminating the artwork shut off on them and were still capable of browsing and buying, and were never forced to pay attention to anything they didn’t want to.

The artwork was the best I’ve ever seen at the festival, which is including the catalogues from previous years in which I did not attend. Most of the pieces that weren’t really my style had a clear validity and seemed to belong in the festival regardless of my personal preferences. I think I only truly disliked perhaps two. The film exhibition, which I unfortunately had absolutely no personal experience with due to it being offsite (I’d like to see the films onsite, or staggered next year with the visual art festival on another weekend), was spoken of incredibly highly and sold very well.

My absolute favorite parts?

In addition to this, I directed a suite of beautifully organic and diverse performances that included many shapes, sizes, and colors that complimented the art, captivated our audience and helped maintain a dignified, elegant and erotic atmosphere.

My team was impressive, I had an excellent stage manager, and every single one of my performers made me look really fucking good.

In addition to that, my workload was reasonable enough that I got to have a lot of fun at the festival, both during my tenor as a director and after my performances were finished. The vibe in the venue was positive, and everywhere I looked patrons were smiling and happily chatting. I even spent a bit of time at the bootblacking station overseeing most of the venue, smiling, watching people slowly pour in through the cash doors.

And boy do I fucking love being on a headset!

These are only my vanity pictures. To see the other amazing pictures of the festival check out SEAF’s flickr stream and be sure to log in to see the ‘adult’ ones with buttcrack and boob.

SEAF for me carries a long backstory with many deep layers, in regards to my individual growth in sexuality, as an event director/performer, and in terms of healing from an abusive relationship. I was first involved in the festival as a model in an accepted piece in 2003, and nearly every year since then.

From 2005-2008 I contributed to SEAF directly as a performer, patron and director. After the 2008 festival, in which I had directed aerial performances and performed, I stepped away from SEAF during a bad breakup with the Performance Director at the time, who had eyes on directing the Festival.

When we split up, we were both heavily involved in SEAF and the Little Red Studio together. In the separation, though we never officially divided things, I basically got LRS, and in turn got Obsidian (If you don’t know about that show, you probably should.), and he got SEAF, and with that, the Director title he’d wanted, eventually.

I was angry, hurting, mentally dismantled, and felt left out by cutting myself off. I was also busy with my own creative endeavors, and really, I had no choice but to leave given the circumstances.

Over the years, I heard through the grapevine of the changes being made to the festival, how it had become bigger, more glitzy, more stage show, bigger, bigger, bigger, and less focused on the artwork or feeling like an art festival.

In 2011, I submitted artwork, a performance proposal and returned in a limited capacity under the direction of Eva Luna as an ambient performance artist, with my most estranged year away being 2012 in which I strenuously returned to having no involvement.

I had no idea how much I missed SEAF, in part due to these changes I didn’t agree with and my bitterness toward the person making them, until I was capable of returning in a directorial capacity when my ex left on bad terms in December. I wrote after being invited to the first planning meeting I’d been to in 5 years;

It’s funny, when something is simply off the table, how disconnected with missing being involved in it you can be. –

I had forgotten that SEAF, when available to me, is one of the few places I absolutely, without doubt or apology, belong.

My reentry has been validating, satisfying and very fruitful after a rough start in preproduction earlier this year. I can attest with no hesitation that we pulled off a miracle given the circumstances and logistical/administrative turbulence we all went through.

One of my favorite things to do right now is marvel at how impressively all the people who remained involved stepped up and gave this event everything they had. We worked together naturally and without any pettiness, arguments or personal difficulty that I could see. Everyone was amazing at their jobs and awesome to work with.

I am so thrilled that I stuck with this through my storm of concerns over the last few months. I have learned a lot in the past 6 weeks and grown as an event director as well as personally through this experience. I really just can’t express in words how lovely it is to be back, or how proud I am of what the festival has become/returned to being.

As the smoke clears I can see that the occurrences which lead me away for a while had also saved me from the corrosive aspect of the learning experiences the org went through during the time my ex was in charge, and for that I’m thankful. Had I still been working on SEAF since 2009, regardless of my personal feelings regarding him, knowing myself as I do, I suspect I would have been worn of it and have moved on by now, just as it’s getting good again.

Instead, I get the best of both worlds – I didn’t have to continue working with him, didn’t have to be around him, I got to take a break and focus on my own work and artistry, put on some amazing shows, created an arts nonprofit, nurtured my massage and gallery business, and now I have the ability to reap the benefits of his work and what was learned from his mistakes regardless. Thanks, dude!

Now Extrovert Entertainer Whip-cracking Chatty Me fades into the background, and Tender Introverted Drained Me begins her recovery from intense connection fatigue and activity of the last few days. I connected with a LOT of people in profound and significant ways, my feet are killing me, and I am very, very tired.

For now, I will be behind the scenes again for a while, tending to myself, my personal creative work, and processing through the emotional impact of a very big few days – which includes being rather elated and prideful of my accomplishments, and planning my strategy for next year.

It feels good to be back to what was my element for a long time, and to again embrace it as a keen expression of who I am and who I want to be in the world.

The beach: Awesome.

Sunday, August 5th, 2012

The humans: not so much.

Edgars and I finally got out of town again yesterday, after a couple months of being fairly stationary. After a brief overnight at a friends place in Portland, and an awesome breakfast with Norris the Voice, we were beachbound.

Aside from our destination, being able to get a snapshot of this sign is the only good thing about the fucking traffic we were frequently stuck in. Apparently a lot of people have the idea to go to the coast the first weekend in August.

It’s amazing how 4+ hours of driving and a sea of asshole humans and their even bigger asshole kids can be made worthwhile by an hour at the beach. After laying around in the soft warm sand, I was reminded how stubborn the sand is to get off of human skin. Even the (FUCKING FREEZING) ocean didn’t want anything to do with the stuff once it was stuck to me.

After Edgars snapped this picture of me in Seaside, OR, (Note: I am NOT sucking my stomach in. Yay for eating well and working out!!) I washed sand out of my vagina while sitting on the sink in the mens bathroom of the sushi place we had dinner at, cause I had gotten tired of waiting in line for the womens, and also tired of having sand in my vagina.

I like liking the sun, and the ocean. I sure as hell didn’t used to.

Tortured Internals

Wednesday, August 1st, 2012

Internal view of an abandoned home in Rio Linda, on Elkhorn Blvd. Taken in the summer of 2011 during my 2 week road trip. My guess is that by now it’s gone, as Rio Linda has been exploding in housing development since I left Sacramento in 1998, and I couldn’t find the structure on google maps today.

Starter Home

Wednesday, August 1st, 2012

Gorgeous abandoned home in Rio Linda, on Elkhorn Blvd. Taken in the summer of 2011 during my 2 week road trip. My guess is that by now it’s gone, as Rio Linda has been exploding in housing development since I left Sacramento in 1998, and I couldn’t find the structure on google maps today.

R.I.P. Neecam, 1995 – 2011

Tuesday, December 20th, 2011

In 1995, I put one of the first consistent webcams on the internet, the neecam. It was, at one time, the focal point of what would eventually become, and then, spend a short year stint as its own spinoff at, and finally settle as a single, burried page on

The first neecam was a black and white connectix quikcam, that looked a little something like this. It had been gifted to me by lars, of #suicide on EFnet, and I’m pretty sure I masturbated with it more than once because I knew he’d touched it. It was one of those gifts, like the mixer that WhiteKnight sent me, that altered the course of my development as a person.

Pervert that I was, neecam was rarely used as a sexual outlet, and rated R, mostly — which is probably part of why you don’t know about it, even though it was around before Jennicam or Anacam and a lot of others that are much more famous. The cam would refresh every 30-90 seconds depending on my mood, and only when I was actually around and wanting to be on camera. Which was, frankly, a lot.

Around the same time I started using webcams, I began cautiously shifting my style from huge boys t-shirts and jeans and sneakers to tank tops and .. jeans and sneakers. Still, I was coming into my own and moving into adolescence. Through the neecam, my creativity, and the support of my viewers, over time, I began to realize something very amazing. That I could be pretty.

It was years later before I did anything sexual on cam, but finally, in the year 2000, some random drunken early morning late night, I used a vibrator in full view on cam while talking with whoever was awake on #suicide. That rare, thrilling, nerve wracking, and slightly awkward experience, in hindsight, marked one of the many progressive leaps in my journey of embodying and accepting my sexuality, and myself as a fundamentally sensual person.

Over time, the cam grew up. It went from the PS/2 connectix, to a color quikcam, to various logitech cameras, to the amazing and still unparalleled 3com HomeConnect USB, complete with the lens pack, which I still refuse to get rid of. My cam equipment was part of the elegance, and each camera I had gave me different freedoms that I exploited.

The neecam, over many years, was one of my primary social outlets. It was the first place to go if you wanted to know what kind of mood I was in. It was an amazingly effective method in which to express myself and reach out to people, even as I burrowed myself away in the dark cave of my artificially lit, tiny little room. I cried on cam, I laughed, I did drugs, I showed off my friends, my pets, my injuries. I told stories with it, mourned with it, celebrated with it.

I even went through a period where I slept on cam, kept it running at night, attached to my ceiling over my bed. For years, to be near me meant the potential of being broadcasted, in a world where that wasn’t normal, yet. My friends were such good sports.

As my relationship with this expressive outlet progressed, I became more discerning about the images I captured, and went from a single image format to a main image with three previous thumbnails displayed below it. I began thinking in terms of order and sets, and slowly, I began to create artwork with the cam.

The neecam became my gateway drug to self photography, where I’ve created some of the most profound imagery in my body of artwork. The cam was where it all started. Later in life, as I became more confident in my body and my looks, I began dressing up, taking more of an interest in clothes, and doing elaborate things with makeup in order to.. stay home, and do cam sets.

There was even a short period of time, circa 2001 (long before any software existed for it), that neecam images were automatically converted to ASCII art before being displayed. That was a collaboration with my friend Furan. There were a few other projects like that over the years, including a php authorization script felix (creater of camsnarf) wrote for me to keep haters from stealing and hotlinking my images, before mod_rewrite was in play on Apache servers.

Though at times neecam was archived, it was meant to be active and transient, in the moment. As time moved forward, and social anxiety relaxed its deathgrip on me, life started filling up. I discovered circus, aerial, and that I hated working at Microsoft. I began going out socially and meeting people in real life more. The cam, while still a large part of my life, began to take up less of my free time.

And less.. and less. The neecam became then what most peoples cameras or skype or google hangouts are now – another way to keep in touch with the people I knew in the meatspace.

In 2004, I ripped all three of my hamstrings doing aerial, and found myself rather immobile for a period of many months. I decided, to help pass the time and stay social, to join a website created by an old #suicide regular, stile, whom I had shown the basics of HTML to one day many years before. He took that ball and ran with it, creating, and eventually, — which I joined, anonymously, and began posting sets to.

For the first two weeks, my trademark was that I never showed my face. I was bald to the skin for a while back then, and so chose the handle Agatha, and for a time, neecam became its softcore alterego, Agathacam, wherein I did cam shows of my baths, cleaning the house naked, and other such torrid things.

The neecam was, for 16 years, completely free.

I’d say 80% of the snapshot photos from 1995 to 2007 are shots from one of the various forms of the neecam. I pretty much attribute any image I captured and uploaded through Webcam32, the only cam software I ever used to any notable degree, with being of the neecam ilk. But since 2009, neecam has been stale. Pictures stay up for months on end without being refreshed, and my use of imagery online, has matured.

Nowdays, I have a phone, and a few good cameras, and little reason to maintain a webcam presence any longer. Times have changed, and if I do say so, it was the people like me who socially pioneered them. I’ve integrated neecam into my life, into my world, and it’s time to say goodbye and honor what the original neecam brought to me, and to the lives of others.

So rest in peace, neecam, and thank you. Thank you very much.

courtnee@cerberus ~/public_html/neevita $ rm -rf neecam/
courtnee@cerberus ~/public_html/neevita $ ls neecam
ls: cannot access neecam: No such file or directory
courtnee@cerberus ~/public_html/neevita $

Fooking Ireland, 2011

Thursday, December 1st, 2011

With the help of Jons frequent flier miles, his staying in a hotel in Dublin for work, and being willing to let me crash with him for a week, I saw Ireland this December for $500. That includes the $30 airplane wifi, a bus trip and overnight hostel stay in Galway, a tour of Wicklow, Glendalough and Kilkenny, food, and a few frivolous purchases.

The weather has been largely, admittedly, miserable. But I favor the off-season in general since I hate human beings and tourists make me want to mass murder people. I’m pretty used to miserable weather by now having lived in Seattle for 13 years. I’m sure in 6 months I’ll remember the cool ruins and the nice cup of tea I had in Glendalough more than the fact that I had water squishing through my soaked sneakers that entire fucking day. Maybe.

Some random thoughts while on my trip:

One day, I’ll figure out how to take a WARM vacation.

No one does pastries like the Europeans.

All white people listen to the same shit music, everywhere. I cannot escape the souless, overproduced top 40. Ugh. I’ll have to put the kibosh on Edgars waking us up with the radio at his house for a while.

I would like to celebrate my 40th birthday at Ashford Castle, with about a dozen friends. We have 8 years to save up.

I wonder if any foreigner actually knows what an American talks like in the wild, cause I know at least for me I pick up little inflections of other peoples accents when I’m speaking to them.

If there is anywhere to be helplessly stumbling drunk in the middle of the night, it’s a college town in fucking Ireland. *EVERYONE* around me was absolutely trashed as well.

That weird blueish fake green that some plastic plants and astroturf are made of? It’s not actually fake green.

The trick to fully enjoying bar company as a female is to have only one or two drinks. Buying a round yourself doesn’t help — The drunker you get together, the less adept they are at handling the fact that they want to fuck you.

I want a little Irish stone fence around my little fallout shelter in the country when I’m old.

I’m really just not a fan of traditional Irish “Let’s tell the story of the drunk whore molly I knocked up one summer” music.

The real reason Guinness tastes different in Ireland is the shit in the river water they use to brew it here. Yes, seriously. And it’s soooo tasty.

My favorite parts about the foreign places I’ve seen thus far (Mexico, Amsterdam, England, France, Ireland) are the age and the architecture. I’ve even softened up about the pure evils of religion and begun taking in the old chapels for this purpose. I seem to enjoy what dead people created more than what live people are doing nowdays.

My God. It’s full of SHEEP.

I both love and can become annoyed by how backwards and silly the Irish are. Their history is dark and gory and fascinating, and for that, I am amused and thankful. When our tour guide, who was driving the bus, claimed to still be drunk from the night before I could have gone either way with this one. But then he said that all the people in the rich neighborhood we were driving through walked like they had broomsticks up their arses, and he made a friend for life with me.

The Irish still hate — HATE — the Brits. Don’t be fooled.

I like natural history and archeology museums. I do not like art museums. In fact, I think most old school art is fucking awful looking, unless it depicts architecture or good period costuming (see above). Also: dinosaurs++.

I socialized a lot less this trip than my last in Europe, but from the conversations I did have while in Ireland, they’re some damn nice people.

Wow, they sure do know how to come up with catchy/dark/silly/offputting business names here! The Bleeding Horse. The Hairy Lemon. The Queen of Tarts. Knobs and Knockers. Americans only wish they were so ballsy.

The Irish are, indeed and most definitely, fucking ballsy. Thumbs up, Irish.

John Cornicello: Underwater

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

Images taken by John Cornicello, post processed by me.

White Noise – New self-photographed digital art

Monday, April 20th, 2009

Modeling, styling, photography, post, and photo manip all by me. I pulled these out alone at my house in about 3 hours from start to finish Used vector flower brushes II by yasney chan, and Tree borders III brushes.

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