Think you’ve done it all? You’ve tried all the lovemaking techniques in the book, and then Mitchell Felding, a self-proclaimed love artisan, comes along and asks the simplest of questions, “What about painting your sex?”
Pornography?
Not pornography. This is abstract love created on a horizontal canvas.
He covers nude lovers with edible paint and then has them go at it on a floor canvas. Colours are put on key body parts, and the results are transferred during coitus.
Two weeks ago, he and his love partner, Felicity Snow, stripped off, painted themselves and engaged in sex to test the process.
“I put red paint on my penis and she wore blue. When they mixed, we left purple. See?”
“The idea of using body paint isn’t new,” he explains, waving his hand over the finished work, “but we’ve added a canvas and created a timeline. It’s a lovemaking clock. That’s why it’s so large.”
As he points to sections of it, he tells me what was happening when it was created.
“Did you know that sex almost always begins face-to-face?”
“Ninety per cent of contact between lovers starts by then touching each other’s fronts. Kissing, hugging… It’s in our DNA. We want to see the face of our opposite before anything takes place.”
Mitchell Felding believes that the battle of the sexes continues into the bedroom.
“We want to see the eyes of the enemy. When trust is gained, that’s when we engage.”
Felding walks me across the canvas and points to a large patch of yellow at the one o’clock position. The shape is unmistakably female.
“That’s where we started. My hands and elbows are there, on either side of her. Those are my knees.”
I couldn’t help but notice a blob of purple at, let’s day, her private place and wondered why I found myself staring. What’s more peculiar is Felding’s cavalier approach to the work.
“We used primary colours. Yellow was for our faces, arms, legs, hands, and back. She used blue on her erogenous zones, and I used red. Whenever our colours met, they produced a secondary one. See orange? That’s where I pushed her head onto the floor after fellatio. Every fifteen minutes, we changed our position on the canvas.”
I smile as professionally as I can.
We reach the 10 o’clock position of the clock, and the colours on the canvas are muddy. The strokes are spread out and discombobulated. I see a handprint, something of a foot, perhaps an elbow. It’s difficult to decipher it. I guess that’s the point.
Mitchell continues, “Physical experimentation can turn playful or aggressive. That shows in the mix of colours here and here. It’s a wonderful thing. Felicity was a perfect muse. It’s an honour working with her. Thanks must also go to her husband, Brendan, for letting me borrow her for a day.”
His new piece, titled ‘The Erotic Clock’, is due to go to exhibition at the Queensland Art Gallery next month.
Yes, it’s fiction, and it’s time to read on. Start with SEETHINGS. It’s downloadable and free for a limited time. -M
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