Writing this blog post has been a challenge – even though our fingers have been burning for months.
First came the many emotions in the run-up to this particular performance – at the ManiFest Masked Ball – and then a whole cascade of them when we were on stage.
Whether words can ever do justice to the atmosphere, we don’t know, but maybe this post can give you a glimpse of what we felt.

Is it art?
Kink?
A message?
Hedonistic pleasure – or pure BDSM?
Maybe all at once.
Or maybe just two people having a wonderful time in front of an audience of hundreds of excited partygoers.

As is so often the case, both the beauty – and the beast – is in the eye of the beholder, and in the meaning you attach to what you see.

“The Phantom of the Opera is here… Inside my mind…”
lifted through heavy, dark dance rhythms in the packed hall.
A masked phantom danced with his hooded captive – held by compact knots and tight ropes.
Twisted, whipped, doused by jugs of water…

“How long since your last confession?“
asked the music as the dark rhythms pulsed in time with the sinful lights.
A burlap sack was lifted from the captive’s head – revealing layers of wet strips of fabric wrapped around her face.
The mask theme was mirrored in this double layer of hidden identity.

“I have plenty of experience in this“
sang the voice as the Phantom played with her – eliciting reactions that the audience followed with delight.

Once.
Twice.
Three times she was lowered head first into the tub of water – gasping for air between each dip, body beautifully bound in intricate shibari.

On the surface, a hot, steamy performance designed to titillate an already uplifted audience.
The smile on both the Phantom and the bound woman as the final notes faded away was pure and genuine joy.

But… step a little closer.
Ask a few more questions.

Just like when the cloths around the face were unwound to reveal another layer – a blindfold that again hid the face – ask yourself:
Is everything as it seems?

Is this a classic example of male dominance?
Or does the captive have as much influence on the choreography as the Phantom himself?
Does that knowledge change the way we see it?
Or should we just allow ourselves to enjoy the raw, unfiltered hedonism of the moment?

Could the bag symbolize the superficial assumptions and prejudices that blind us?
And the two layers underneath – could they remind us that even when we peel away our initial biases, we are still unable to see the truth?
A blindfold of “we cannot know what we do not know ” – another layer of ego we must acknowledge before we can see clearly.

But what is truth really?
Can a truth, forced in the heat of the dance, be trusted at all?
Or is it perhaps not coercion at all – but rather a purification in the bosom of water?

Will those who suppress the voices of others one day understand that even behind their own masks, the bound will rise up – look them in the eye – and take back power?

Can we see hope in her choice – a glimpse of a future where the past is washed away by insight and honesty?
Where we, as fellow human beings, recognize our shared vulnerability – and leave the stage together, in harmony?

A recording of a similar performance can be seen HERE.
Read and interpret the art as you wish.

Until next time,
Ropes& Riggers