EPB

EPB is a writer, visual artist, performer & researcher who plays in the space between theory and practice. In her writing, she parallels her observations of the art world with academic discourse and the politics of sex work.

Ritual

Ritual

Ritual From the moment I step off the flight at Denpasar, I step into magic. The floral aroma of frangipani immerses me, and time begins to slow down. I follow in tow, taking one careful step in front of the other, inching my way into the rising sun greeting me...

Reflections

Reflections

Reflections I open the window to greet a winter morning. I cannot yet feel the chill in the air but across the street I see a tiny person, swaddled in a down purple jumpsuit moving her short legs down the sidewalk. Only her white face is exposed to the cold. A mother...

Domination & Feminism

Domination & Feminism

Domination & Feminism An Italian art student recently asked for an interview about the art and nature of Female Dominance. The following is a transcription of our exchange. Q. Who is dominatrix according to you in narrow and wide terms? A dominatrix is a woman who...

Top C*nt

Top C*nt

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Dungeon As Heterotopia

Dungeon As Heterotopia

Dungeon As Heterotopia Our theater set is a covert basement in a mid-town high-rise. From the street, nothing, another awning with another number on another street. Its anonymity boasts its appeal. At the end of the winding staircase, hundreds, no thousands, perhaps...

Rubber Barriers

Rubber Barriers

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Bird On A Wire

Bird On A Wire

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Working Dessous

Working Dessous

Working Dessous Negligee. Garter. Thong. Brassiere. Bloomers. Corset. Stockings. Dessous. Panties. Underwear… So many names for such charged, little objects. What is the function of lingerie? In my first day at the dungeon, I was unequivocally commanded with what I...

Meandering Lines

Meandering Lines

Meandering Lines I am walking through Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Two Hassidic women announce their presence with enlivened conversation behind me, in my blindspot. I hear them but cannot see them yet. In a few minutes, they will have walked past me, especially if I slow...

Marked Bodies

Marked Bodies

Marked Bodies Every time I close my eyes to descend down into my shaman’s hole, I see that tree in the back yard with its gnarled roots protruding from the dirt and the soil. I remember the climb, and I remember the crash down. The first time I fall is an accident,...

Seizure

Seizure

Seizure Pain came and stole my body from me in the middle of the night. In middle of many nights before, she’d been plotting to chip away one piece at a time. Pain was a woman who worked her way through cursory paths, finding pin sized holes of weakness, pockets of...