I once described your videos as uncategorisable. Or something. No silo, pigeon-holing, box ticking here. In some ways the Art of Sex epitomises that description.
I love the chaos. I love the swerve from childhood collar chewing angst to adult orgasm fuelled response. The music, as always, sublime. The photos of 24yo missy do not convey your perception of doubt. They look to me like a confident young woman who has wandered into the garden of delights and has decided to stay a while. And maybe it is unusual to share this sort of honesty with a global audience, but as you know, the world is but a village and we are all neighbours really. The whipping video is lightened by the music and your rhetoric, but I suspect with no music and the sound of just breathing and the sounds of the whip would be unbearably erotic. Thank you for not sharing, and I mean that. Your video takes that fetish and makes it mainstream and lovely.
And you are wrong. I am sorry to say. Not all your films are about sex. It is the common theme, I grant you, but your subjects are often biographical, or in tribute to a fallen hero. And that keeps people like me, who love the writing as much as the visuals, coming back for more.
And here is the rub I guess. You paint nude self portraits. The artist as her own muse. The poet, the goddess of social media, the writer the model and the producer.
In my last (but one) email, I called you brave for fucking on film and putting it out there. Brave does not even come close. You have turned the wick up on video art, and unless someone spots you soon, and sponsors the rest of your project, I will explode. Fuck us arseholes who watch and comment and chuck a few pennies in the tipjar. You are worth much more than this.
I wish you all the success in the world missy. I would miss you, but you deserve so much better.