Ridiculous celebrity obsession

I finally handed in my Masters thesis two weeks ago. Its title, 'The Insanity of Modern Celebrity' is named after a series of shows I've performed about the subject of celebrity culture (next part, 'Deluded' premieres at Bistrotheque on Tues 17th). Celebrity culture is something I've spent the last two years critically studying so think I'm well placed to have an informed opinion on it.

Last night I was 'Wardrobe Mistress' for the dressing up box at Smash N Grab night at Punk which is known to be frequented by celebrities. (I must here make the distinction between a star and celebrity, the former often being known and celebrated for their talent or achievement, the later for lesser accomplishments).

Early in the evening, a group of tourists came over to have their photo taken with me ("Ooooh Tranny!" It makes for a 'look what we saw in London photo' I guess) and later in the night one of them slid up to me and the conversation went like this;

Drunk tourist girl: Where are all the celebrities?
Me: Excuse me?
Her: Where are the celebrities?
Me: Is that why you came here tonight?
Her: Yes. Where are all the celebrities?
Me: Hun, I find it really quite sad that you came here just for that.
Her: But where are theeeeeeey?
Me: Probably at home, avoiding people like you.

So rather than go out with the intention of having a good time and enjoy London with her friends, she went to the venue just because she thought there was a chance of rubbing shoulders with someone who appears in the press. Wow.

Model Agyness Deyn was in the club, having a boogie and night out with her mates. For some reason, some people were heckling her. Just because she is a famous, isn't she entitled to have a knees up like the rest of us? At kick out time, she was a little worse for wear and the paps outside went into a frenzy, shouting and snapping away. A TV camera turned up out of nowhere, two mopeds chased her car and the whole spectacle was quite unnerving.
In my drunken state (I'm not much of a drinker but free drinks make it too easy), the whole thing made me angry and shouted "leave her alone, get a job or a conscious you fuckers". How butch.
Photos of her leaving the club appeared on the front cover and inside today's The London Paper (a daily free paper whose centre pages feature celebrities). It's bizarre to witness something quite inane being published as so-called news.

The abundance of celeb based media seem to focus on a core group of London party girls at the moment; Lilly Allen, Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn, Kelly Osbourne, Peaches and Pixie Geldof, Kimberly Stewart (two of them models and the others famous by association) and of course Amy Winehouse (who certainly has talent but its sad she's doing the Billie Holiday/Janis Joplin model of destruction). Kate Moss used to have a mysterious air about her but seeing her so often in the press in these celebrity obsessed times, she and those like her loose their sparkle and what makes them publicly interesting in the first place.

Of my least favourite professions, the paparazzi are up there with traffic wardens and those people who check peoples tickets on the bus (who gang raid London's bendy buses and appear to take great pleasure in pulling people off who haven't swiped their Oyster cards. It's ridiculous how many police they have with them. Their services are required elsewhere, not standing around bloody bus stops). It could be said that they are only just doing their jobs but they have a choice. I studied photography for five years and no amount of money could persuade me to hang around outside clubs and hunt celebrities for the possibility of getting 'that' shot bought and published by the press.

I was photographed by the 'razzi once in Vienna, they are such hateful and rude people. A gang of them aggressively tried to make me pose in ways that suited them so I walked off. I don't mind posing for photos but not when I'm barked at.
Why anyone would aspire to be papped and famous for merely being famous, without any kind of achievement baffles me. But as the new series of Big Brother has just started on Channel 4, it's obvious that there are many fervently wanting just that.

I've got so many opinions on all this but I just wrote a damn thesis about it and this rant is starting to turn into a prologue to it!

If you're in London on Tuesday (17th June), come down and see my new show 'Deluded' as part of Under Construction 3 at Bistrotheque. I'll lip synch, act, do costume changes and maybe sing for you!
x

I do DVNO...video and stuff

So I was out and about in London town filming an art concept piece about how I’m perceived by others and decided to do a few takes doing a lip synch; DVNO by Justice. The original video by the Ed Banger in-house artist, So Me is well crafted and gorgeous, this is just a bit of fun.


DVNO is a great pop song and though its no longer seen as cool to like Justice because they’ve gone a little mainstream, I still think there are one of the best and most exciting musical acts of the new millennium. I find people jumping the Ed Banger boat just because they are reaching more people ridiculous. I guess its down to the nature of how music is shared these days, its so quick that there is always a new bandwagon to jump on. Gone are the days of trawling through record shops to find something months before it became ‘big, now its just right click and save.
Regardless, I remain faithful to Pedro Winter and his stable of fine fillies.

The main reason for filming was intentionally about the performance artists who stand on boxes on the South Bank and Covent Garden. I intended to go down and ridicule them somewhat but found once I was there in drag, I had a new-found respect for what they do (and hell, they make a lot of money so good luck to them). I wanted to concentrate on the audiences response to my presence and not me but this was difficult to get as once they realised they were being filmed, would act differently so I decided to refocus on me and did a series of vogue poses and cat walks.
Filming in tourist areas was a little 'safe' as there are many people dressed up and acting ridiculously so my being there wasn’t particularly fascinating. I suppose I should do it in places where folk like me aren’t typically prancing around, like Tumbridge Wells or Dalston market. Then again, I should probably go back to ‘her’ birth place and do it there, Vienna.

Holestar the artist has been around for about 10 years now but Holestar the Tranny with A Fanny (I should trademark that) is a mere 5 year old.
When I came up with and starting developing the idea, it was all about gender exploration and subversion, but ‘she’ became a fully formed character and took on a life on of her own. I refer to her in the third person as I, Holestar the artist is the Dr Frankenstein to my drag personae which is my monster, my creation, yet she is me and I her. She as a piece of work isn't specifically about gender for me any more. My initial intention was to question and play with what is seen and perceived yet the audience naturally still view my creation as a gender study which it is but not as much as it was (am I making sense here?)

Anyway...I've got a busy summer coming up; festivals, performance art, live gigs, an interesting new night that I'm involved with and finishing my Fine Art Masters. I'll keep you posted no doubt.

PS The public and private responses to my blogs are surprising. Its just me sat here spewing my brain out and is flattering that people actually read my nonsense so thanks!

Sex tips for boys who have sex with girls....

I love men. Ever since I was 3 and befriended Spenser next door, they've always been my favourite gender to be friends with. On the flip…they are the worst when it comes to intimacy, relationships and sex.
I term my sexuality as queer or metamorphosexual (big nod to Annie Sprinkle). I don't wish to define my gender output ("I'm not a woman, I'm not a man, I am something that you'll never understand"…cheers Prince) or sexuality. I've known too many women who have been rejected by hypocritical lesbian communities when they have decided to have it off with men. I find this abhorrent and actively support anyone who wants to play with their sexuality as long as its safe, sane and consensual.

I guess society finds it easier to judge if you label yourself as one thing or another and while I tend to lean towards women sexuality, I wouldn't rule out a bit of boy fun.
Then again, I haven't had sex with a man for 7 years. I've enjoyed sex with men in the past but yet to find one who really does it for me like a women can.
I recently came out of a relationship and not looking for another at the moment but seeking a 'friend with benefits'. Someone that I can have a laugh and hang out with but not commit to and be able to date others. This seems like the perfect arrangement because if you set this out from the beginning, nobody gets hurt (unless one falls for the other and its not reciprocated).

For the first time in a long time, I find myself fancying a bit of man sex. Unfortunately, men and women are different creatures and messages tend to get mixed.
I had a fumble with someone recently that I probably shouldn't have and while in that kind of situation (and despite my Dominatrix day job), I tend to get a bit cuddly and slushy (I'm crippling the illusion that Dominatrix's are bitches all the time…truth is, none of them are. Sorry for destroying the fantasy ). This was read as me being more emotionally involved and wanted more when in fact, my loins were screaming out for a seeing too and they were the most available person that I trusted.
Men who have set out for a one nighter often get frustrated with women who get clingy after they've had sex, but they forget that for a large percentage of women, there is a biological thing going on where they feel attached to someone they've been intimate with even if they don't rationally see a future in a relationship.

I may be out of line here but men do generally think with their dicks. I believe that to be biological and not something to blame them for…just the way it is. Its there hanging around out front all the time…it's a matter of control.
Gay men have the casual sex situation locked down. The cottage/cruising/sauna culture allows men to have nameless, faceless sex without emotional connection. Unfortunately, the same doesn't exist for women (and I'm not particularly keen on places like the Candy Bar…I don't want to be forced to listen to RnB and funky house to get laid).

It makes perfect sense for people have sex with their own gender; we know our bodies quite well and are more likely to be able to handle someone's body that is similar to our own. Just because men and women slot into each other doesn't mean its going to be any good, we're different creatures.

I guess we all just want to be loved at the end of the day and sex is always better with someone you love but if you are able to have that at home with someone who understands that you want random (and safe) sex elsewhere, all the better. (Saying that, I've always been monogamous when in a relationship, doesn't mean I haven't thought about it though).

Now then…the reason why I initially wanted to write my own 'sex tips for boys who have sex with girls' was because of my own past experiences and a slight hope if any boys read it…they might go out and service my sisters better. A lot of men think they are the hotness when it comes to sex but a few tips can't hurt eh boys?

So……….


1 - Its always awkward to bring up in conversation beforehand but don't act like it might be more than a one nighter if you have no intention of seeing her after just because you're hard and want to get it on. Try and engage the brain for just a little while or it might be more hassle later.

2 - Kissing. Getting it right is a major bonus. I've often got more out of and have a better memory of a really good passionate snog than full sex.

3 - Do not put the girls hand on your crotch when you have a hard on. We're not stupid, we know you are excited, we'll get to it eventually. Only slightly worse than this is the clumsy pushing of the head to the crotch. Urgh.

4 - Some girls like a good hard shag. Some girls like it soft. Some like a bit of both. (I'm more of the later myself). Ask or work it out from her reactions.

5 - A large majority of women reach orgasm by stimulation of the clitoris. This is fact so learn how to use it. Biggest tip I can give you here is to read The Hite Report by Shere Hite. I've convinced quite a few folk both male and female to read this book and all have said their sex life has benefited. It should be taught on the international curriculum. (Hell, I didn't know my body was capable of 9 orgasms in one session until I read it.)

6 - You can ask her to do something differently if its not working for you. Unless she's a complete cow she'll respond to it and probably learn from it.

7 - Those women in porn who are screaming through mere penetration are being paid to put on a convincing show. Look at the close up, she's probably dry down there, ie she's not actually enjoying it. Get her steamed up before entering all guns blazing.

8 - Most woman don't care about the size of your knob as long as its clean. The G-spot is only a few inches inside so size doesn't really matter except aesthetically.

9 - Good personal hygiene is a must (unless you are planning to score with a crack head). BO or a cheesy knob is a major turn off. (My own are also ear wax, really smelly feet and bad teeth).

10 - Make some noise and not just the ceremonial grunt at the end. It reassures us you like what we are doing. Some girls like dirty talk, some don't but we all want to hear you are enjoying yourself. And if she compliments you, say something nice back, its only polite.

11- No matter how gorgeous she is, most girls have hang ups about their body. If you want to keep her perky and she’s uncomfortable about you touching her stomach/bum/tits/whatever, don't and aim for something else.

12 - Always play it safe and use protection even if she's on the pill. A trip to the clap clinic isn't fun and does sod all for anyone's self esteem.

13 - Don't roll over and go to sleep/get up and go home as soon as you've come. After working as a Domme for over 8 years, I've watched in fascination how quickly men change after the money shot (though not by my hand. I don't do any sex acts with my clients though they are welcomed to shuffle themselves at the end). Feeling regret or awkwardness after you've got jiggy with it is all good and well but behaving like a twat after makes the girl feel like shit and karma's a bitch.

14- We don't all want to marry you (though some girls do get a bit psycho). If we want a cuddle afterwards, its to reassure you still like us.

15 - If you are contacting her through a web site, sending pictures of your knob, calling her a slut, how you want to make sexy with her or using txt spk might not get you far. Men who are looking for casual sex out number women tremendously (you only have to go to a sex club or see the casual relationships section on gumtree.com to see by how much) so you need to make an impression to stand out from the other pussy hungry boys out there. A good head shot, some witty banter and interesting info about you is more likely to get a response.

16 - Girls who want casual, no strings attached, consensual sex are not slags. Social conditioning tells us that women are either whores or wives but this is a pile of outdated, defunct biblical arse and is unjust. Women are entitled to a good seeing to as much as men. Unfortunately, a common label doesn't exist for a man who sleeps around but plenty for women.
This is a new millennium and as long as people are playing safe, keeping it consensual and nobody is getting emotionally screwed, just physically…I can't see a problem.


I'm probably going to get a barrage of abuse but this is not a definitive list. And if you're offended and don't take this as the friendly bit of advice its intended to be….well you probably have a porn collection so vast that the idea of having sex with a real women scares the be Jesus out of you.

Right, I'm off to find a 'friend with benefits' and I don't care what it has between its legs!

x

Sod the sisterhood...

I’ve never been a girls girl. My friends from a very young age have been predominantly boys, I find them more straight forward, less bitchy (though they can be terrible, straight and gay), direct, don’t play mind games and fun.
However, I consider myself a feminist. But a future forward thinking one.
I’m thankful and have the utmost respect for my sisters before me who paved the way for the liberation of women (though we still have long way to go for complete equality) but I don’t hate and chose to get on with things and go so far to elaborate, celebrate and intensify femininity in the way I dress.
I’d consider myself a street feminist. I’m more down with Paglia than Dworkin and McKinnon.

I like gutsy, ballsy, get on with and ‘be it’ women. Those who aren’t passive, personally or in the work place. Those who breed because they want to not because they are expected to, inspirational women who work in whatever way to make the world a more interesting place and those who don’t hate men or other women because of politics or jealousy.

Unfortunately, I don’t like around 60% majority of women I meet. I might be one, but I just don’t understand them. Maybe this is because I choose to surround myself with men. Maybe its because I fancy them and see women and see them in a different way. Who can say?

Despite this, I hate to see women getting treated badly. I’ve jumped in between a man aggressively arguing with a woman on several occasions. Sometimes thanked, sometimes getting a mouthful from the abused woman leaving me thinking ‘why should I bother?’

After performing at The Dirty Red Ball on Saturday (which went really well…see footnote) and walking towards the bus stop in Angel, I saw three young men verbally abusing a woman waiting for the bus. One saying he was going to punch her, another saying that she really wanted his cock and would love it, the other calling her a lesbian. I decided to sit next to her for moral support.
Once they started to move on, I asked her if she was ok and commented that they were childish idiot boys with brains in their pants.
She retorted by saying “Well if you’re going to do something, go and smash their faces in. Don’t just sit there”.
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I was just trying to be ‘sisterly’ and ended up getting a mouthful.

On Sunday I went to a photo shoot in Finsbury Park so decided to pop into the drag emporium that is Paks. I placed a can of hairspray, three pair of lashes, a comb and some wig caps on the counter and a voice behind me said “Why the fuck are you buying black products?”
I turned to a young mixed race girl and said “Pardon? Are you talking to me?”
She ignored me and then said it again. I asked her who she was and why she was giving me grief? She responded by saying “I bet you’re a middle class rich girl, got loads of money yeah?”.
Again I asked what was her problem, who the hell she was and would she please get out of my face.
She started muttering something and then started shouting “Yeah but no but” until the startled guy behind the counter told me to ignore her.
I was is shock and oddly disturbed when she walked off shouting “Yeah but no but” (chunky I may be but I’m no Vicky Pollard).

First off, since when is buying goods from a wig shop ‘black’? I’ve thought a lot about this and could write plenty but its just too much of an astonishing and ridiculous statement to question or argue.
Secondly, I come from a working class background. We were quite poor. Family holidays were spent camping in England, our first car was a second hand Morris Minor and we lived in crappy army houses. Who the hell she is to judge me and what difference does it make anyway? Finally, it isn’t anyone’s business what I buy. In my baseball cap and jeans, I don’t come across as a show girl but this isn’t anyone’s issue if I decide chose to use them myself or shove them up my arse.

After the shoot, I popped over to Shoreditch House to see Jonny Woo do some new material. I decided to keep my makeup on but put my ‘day clothes’ on to travel.
I got on the first train and a woman opposite stared at me with distain and tutted loudly. When I got a wig out of my bag to play with it, she snorted and moved further up the carriage, occasionally looking over and shaking her head.

Fuck the sisterhood is all I can say.
This is not representative of women of course. I just had three rather tedious run ins with women over the course of a weekend which tainted my view of them.

Women are generally envious and judge each other, something I believe to be naturally inherited. For the breeders, they want to appear the most attractive to get the most attractive mate to spawn attractive children so it makes sense that they are competitive with other women who may coax their potential mate away. But to be outright bitchy and unsupportive of each other, is it any wonder I’m not a fan?

I guess I’m a straight, gay man in a queer womans body if that makes any sense.
I don’t understand women, neither do most straight blokes but I’m flamboyant and camp like many gay men are. Yet I’m like any other woman. I bleed, am emotional, get a buzz from finding bargains when shopping etc

I get energised and excited when I do meet amazing women because I find them inspirational and stand out from so many dull, submissive, manipulative and annoying women who either tow the line of what is expected of their gender or are overtly aggressive about it. (I dislike hardcore feminists as much as I don’t like anyone who is aggressively fanatical about any form of religion, philosophy or movement).

Women are amazing, beautiful, intelligent complex creatures but generally and unfortunately, I’m not down with my own gender.

Footnote
The Dirty Red Ball was very much a female affair, you could smell the oestrogen and despite the above, was a great night. I performed in the cabaret room which without being biased, was the best room in the building. Jonny Woo, Dusty Limits, Barefoot, John Sizzle, burlesque routines and me.
I did a piece based on my recent break up with my partner. Very cathartic.
Started off with my entering the stage to find a letter saying “I’m breaking up with you” and breaking into the Thelma Huston version of Don’t Leave Me This Way (even though John played it just before I went on during the fire alarm going off…everyone loves a reprise eh?). This then mixed straight into The Supremes’ Stop in the Name of Love where I altered some of the lyrics to make them personal to my situation, then Kelis’ I Hate You So Much Right Now while tearing off the heads of flowers with my teeth and went into comedy hysteria. Through all this, the lyrics change from please don’t leave me, stop before you screw me up, anger and finally absolution. I’m heartbroken but its going to be fine and I’ll move on. So the last track of the piece was Doris Day’s Que Sera Sera. Nice to see arms swaying and joining in.

Really glad with how it all went and got a surprising amount of positive feedback.
I’ve told my ex about it and she found it fairly amusing. Yes we are friends and for that, I’m glad.
Writing and performing it has made me has confirmed that things do eventually get better after a break up and to quote myself ‘time heals everything’.
Just because I‘ve written it from a personal point of view, heart break is universal and anyone who has been through it can relate to it and hopefully, get a bit of strength from it.

Like always, I’ve a few things in the pipeline but I really must concentrate on my finishing my Masters daaaahling.
Holestar ND, BA, MA, (pending) DISCO

x


PS This is stuck to my wall. Funny but so so true.......

Problems with art and the usual round up...

March means getting back into the swing of things and despite recent hohaas….I’m getting on it all
(Though next January and Feb I’m planning on going to Southern India. Anyone fancy it?)

So.....
I’ve been keeping my gig schedule low because I really have to knuckle down at college. I still not sure why I’m doing a Fine Art Masters but something in me is starting to make me realise why. St Martins isn’t the most disciplined of colleges and I find it hard to get motivated (though when I do, I tend to work like a workaholic beast…apparently a Capricorn straight) so I’ve had to kick myself up the arse and things are looking better.
I had feedback for the first draft of my research paper and was shocked to find it was good (and I quote from the report);

"This is a very satisfactory first draft! You write exceptionally clearly and with style and flair. Well done. You have potentially a very important piece of work here."

Shocked, yes!. I left school with a D in English and I’m probably the most least academic student on the course. I can’t get my head into thick theory and discourse (which probably reflects in the pop nature of my work and lines of creative enquiry). I try but tend to get bored after a few pages.
I personally can’t see the point of using flagrant words (which I see as pompous, pretentious and patronising) to discus or explain something when putting it simply is far easier to access. It may work for others but not for me.
I guess this is my gripe with the art world in general. I want to make art accessible but the language used to discus work and gallery texts are often written exclusively. Using jargon that is flowered with adjectives and nonsense that only the well read and artistically educated understand. What about thickies like me who appreciate and love art but don’t want to be made to feel excluded because we’re not up on our art philosophy and theory?

Anyway….


I performed as part of ’Lift and Separate’ at the V&A Museum. Yes, the V&A!!!
It was complied by Kat Heath and Eleanor Wdowski based on a play by Victoria Worsley about disgruntled underwear models. As I played ’Black’, I could be as snarly and pouty as I wanted. Ace!
The performance consisted of five ’models’ holding various vogue posses in a tableau for 15 minutes before breaking into a looped dance routine with a mixed classic and electronic soundtrack complied by Kat.
During the routine, we had the chance to break out of the line and walk about. I looked around at people in the space with distain and walked right into peoples faces. Was amazing that people stayed to watch the show and be engaged in it for the whole 30 minutes. We repeated it three times and glad to say, went well and was well received.
I shall be working with Kat and Ellie on another project soon and look forward to it.


I DJed at FOR3IGN! the following night which was fun. I had wanted to push the music in a direction that the kids might not have been familiar with but this proved not to be of particular interest so stuck with pop, bootlegs and remixes. Hey ho..they still danced and for a DJ (well for me) that’s what you want. I may not be the most technically gifted (though when I play on my decks at home, I can pull off confident smooth mixes that rival Sasha….) but I play good tunes. For me, that is what makes a good night on the tiles.

After the disco delights of Hoxton, I popped down to my good buddy DJ Tom Oke’s monthly night ’Edit’ at The Prince in Brixton (Tom deserves props. He’s very skilled technically and tops at tune selection….mixing up classic 80s pop and disco into the dirtiest French electro without missing a beat equals party satisfaction).
We had a rather bizarre experience at the Rex Club after which ran into the early hours. The main feature was being holed up in a hotel room with one of the most obnoxious people I have come across. Classic post party gossip fodder.


I popped up on ITV on Sunday in Inspector Morse spin off Lewis that me and my NYC Downlow chums did last Autumn. (Note: we are confirmed for Glastonbury and Lovebox Festivals this year….say bye bye to Lost Vagueness for your festival after-hours…….)
They cut a whole night shoot I did with the lovely Pia (cold…but was whisked to and from Oxford in a nice Mercedes so not all bad) and where we spent a whole afternoon having to shout "LOVE IS NEVER WRONG". So much money wasted on these things. Incredible.
The show itself was a dull two hours to sit through, just to see my ridiculous face for a few seconds. Every gay stereotype exploited to its extremes which was quite insulting. Maybe that’s why a lot of the ’gay’ was cut.
The end with the transsexual (played by Rachel Stirling who played a lesbatron in Tipping the Velvet…..not much of a departure in a related way) blowing herself up was quite hilarious though.

What else, ooh I had a call from The London Paper wanting quotes about self portraiture. I thought I’d be ’in’ it, not just quoted. I’d said something different to what was printed but I guess journalists have to alter to cater to their audience.

I’ll be performing at the Dirty Red Ball at Finsbury Town Hall tomorrow which should hopefully be full of lovely ladies wearing very little so I can have a good perv.
I’ve re-worked some classic songs about heartbreak (very cathartic) and turned it into something positive. I’d better go and learn the text I’ve re-written then.

Smooches

x