Wednesday, February 08, 2017
Unnatural birth
A woman from Ontario has made a name for herself by giving birth while wearing a Chewbacca mask. A You Tube video of her braying while in labour has won near-universal acclaim:
“She’s the kind of woman I aspire to be,” tweeted one of her adoring fans.
Chewbacca mom, who’s real name is Katie Stricker Curtis, explained the philosophy behind her masquerade:
“Just because I’m about to be a mom doesn’t mean I have to grow up! Never take life too seriously!”
She must be the first woman in history to turn childbirth into a comedy routine. I wonder what gave her such an outlandish idea. Did she think that making people laugh would give meaning to her labour pains? Most women feel that the baby itself is sufficient reward for their suffering. You have to give her credit for being such a devoted slave to comedy.
Having said all that, I confess I’m in two minds about Mrs Curtis and her wookie show. As a former circus ape, I’m all in favour of innovations in slapstick entertainment. On the other hand, you can’t turn everything into a joke. Giving birth may be an important life event for the mother, but it’s the biggest life event of all for the baby. Taking your first breath is a solemn occasion. You don’t want people laughing at you when you’re struggling to squeeze your bulbous head through an overstretched coochie. If the aged are entitled to a dignified death, babies should be entitled to a dignified birth.
When I told the manager of the safari camp about this story, he said:
“The baby must have been thinking ‘What the fuck?’ when it saw its mother’s face! If I’d been in its place, I would have asked for a mirror to see if I took after her!”
“My dear manager,” I replied. “If you’d been in its place, everyone in the room would have been saying ‘What the fuck?’”
Of course, a newborn baby has no idea what its mother is supposed to look like and will bond with anything that nurtures it. Remember Tarzan? He was nursed by a chimpanzee and grew up thinking he was an ape, even thought his arms weren’t long enough to perform all the feats. When he reached adulthood he was a strange, hybrid creature who swung on jungle creepers and made eerie yodelling noises. If a human thinks it belongs to another species, it ends up neither fish nor fowl.
One hopes Mrs Curtis took off the mask before she started suckling the infant. Living for comedy is all very well, but you can’t expect a newborn baby to laugh at your jokes. What will the child think when it’s old enough to see the You Tube video? Will it be proud of its zany mother who inspired so much merriment? Or will it think the woman who carried it in her womb is a bit of a prat? Time will tell.
Labels: Chewbacca, comedy, giving birth, Tarzan
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Artistic exposure
A fad seems to be emerging in the art world for daubing paint on the skin of naked women. The artists who are doing it (most of them men) say a woman’s body makes a far more interesting canvas than paper or board. Maybe so, but it’s rather less easy to frame a woman and hang her up on your wall. The most an enthusiastic collector could hope for is a good long inspection followed by some snaps for the photo album.
The latest exponent of this technique is a fellow called Andy Golub, who spent last summer painting volunteers on the streets of New York City. After being charged with “public lewdness”, he was allowed to continue with his work on condition that his models kept their G-strings on until nightfall. A fair compromise, I would say. For all its brash in-your-faceness, the Big Apple isn’t ready for beavers in broad daylight. Even I sometimes get a peculiar taste in my mouth after seeing them in humid conditions.
As with all art forms, there are radical pioneers pushing at the boundaries. A performance artist called Marni Kotak recently gave birth in a New York art gallery, claiming her delivery was “the highest form of art”. The critics were suitably impressed:
“I feel the entire audience accomplished this together with Marni using their commonly created positive energy,” declared Katherine Hybenova, editor of the Bushwick Daily.
I wonder what they did to make her feel their positive energy. I would have sung a gentle yet uplifting tune, like She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain. On second thoughts, I would have hummed it – a woman in labour shouldn’t be distracted with fatuous lyrics.
Araceli Cruz of the Village Voice arrived shortly after the birth to find Marni “calmly eating a banana”. You have to admire the devotion of an artist who continues to perform for her public after the exhibition is over. When I left the ring in my circus career, I scratched my armpits and buggered off quickly. Any bananas were eaten in the privacy of my trailer.
I have to admit I’m in two minds about Marni’s nativity performance. A human infant squeezing out of its mother’s birth canal is certainly an amazing spectacle that rivals the special effects in Alien or similar movies. But shouldn’t the baby have a say on whether it’s displayed covered in yucky goo, bawling its head off with a horrible tube sticking out of its navel? I wouldn’t want to be gawked at by New York avant-gardistes in such an undignified condition.
A photograph of Marni in the final days of her gestation is displayed below for my curious readers. Rarely have I seen such a prime specimen of luscious womanhood.
I printed out a copy for my females, who immediately pestered me to invite her to the Congo in their eagerness to massage her thighs and buttocks. There was nothing remotely sexual about their request. We gorillas are broad-minded apes who appreciate firm flesh from whatever quarter, particular the hindquarters.
Labels: body paint, giving birth, naked women, Performance art
