 |
 t's
agreed that I'll meet body piercer Keith Alexander while he's on duty
at DV8, one of New York's classier fetish
boutiques. In contrast to West Village sex shops, Chelsea's DV8
looks like a cross between an Armani store and an upscale coffee lounge:
elegant pendant light fixtures cast warm tones on crushed velvet couches,
mottled brick walls and some unusually-fashioned wooden hanging racks.
(The racks are vaguely western, but in that Denver ski lodge way.) It's
worth mentioning that the place is scrupulously clean. No dust. No dust
is a phenomenon beyond bizarre in Manhattan. The fact of it (that, or
the wall of rubber bustiers) leaves me disoriented and somewhat confused.
It's conceivable that my dementia is due in part to the dual purpose of my visit. My first mission is that of a journalist researching Mr. Alexander's vocation for a column on nontraditional options. Causing my head to swim is my heretofore secret agenda: investigating an intimate piercing for myself. I've been toying with the idea of a labial piercing for the better part of a year now, mostly asking around rather shyly. I've never had a problem with needles--I was a plasma donor for a year and a year of getting stuck twice a week pretty much takes care of that. Still, I remember getting my ears pierced and fear the healing process. Keith greets me with an admonishment--"You're late"--and rises from his desk. He's well-dressed in a designer military-style black sweater and jeans, and looks to be about a hundred, maybe two hundred feet tall. I eek. He shushes me, laughs a robust big-man laugh and asks if I am "Ho in the Know," another of Smile and Act Nice's columnists. Oh. No, that's Lynne. I moderate some of the sex forums, I offer. He laughs again and gestures toward the couches where I take a seat. "So you're a geek?" he inquires. "I guess," I reply, flashing back to various childhood kickball traumas. "What kind of machine do you have?" Insert tremendous sigh of relief: he means a computer geek. That secret is safe at least. From there, we launch into a discussion of bandwidth and the future of human electronic prosthetics, the bulk of which goes over my head. Keith, it seems, is not exclusively employed in the body modification arena; he's also the Content Manager at a well-funded Internet startup--"the new media," as he calls it. Somehow this makes perfect sense.
We're interrupted a few minutes into our chat by a call from a Canadian radio station--a live interview. He makes his apologies and allows me to listen to his end of the conversation. It quickly becomes apparent that Mr. Alexander isn't one to suffer fools. As he talks, he rolls his eyes and makes a "yapping" sign with his hand, simultaneously managing to pace the floor without leaving his chair. His edginess strikes me as more the product of a restless mind than a short attention span. Keith clearly takes a predatory approach to information--once he's covered a topic is eager to move on to the next. It's that quality that is responsible for his résumé including work as a producer, a booking agent, a sound engineer, a guitarist (for Dee Snider of Twisted Sister fame, incidentally) and--our topic for the evening--a piercer. He finishes up with the Canadians, and we dive in. Keith tells me he began frequenting The Gauntlet, a virtual Mecca in the New York City piercing community, while working as a Sound Engineer in 1993. He was drawn to piercings as a way of addressing and overcoming his now-incongruous fear of needles. Keith's charm is a palpable force and it's not surprising that the staff at the Gauntlet soon developed a fondness for him. When an opening became available Keith was invited to apprentice. Piercing was just the kind of thing that could hold his attention and still offer him the flexibility to explore music and design. He signed on and apprenticed for a year, becoming expert in safety, hygiene and pain management. His artistry and skill combined with his personal charisma and he soon emerged a spokesman for the body modification community, publishing regular articles in Savage magazine and BodyModification ezine, as well granting interviews to The New York Times, PBS and the BBC, among others.
Keith is characteristically bored by the media point man role these days (he backed out of a 20/20 interview recently to avoid being "typecast") but maintains a footing if only to point interested parties to the more articulate proponents of body arts. "The biggest misconception about this community," he opines "is that everyone is a deviant loser. While there is some of that, sure, there's some of that in any community." He goes on to cite examples of those he calls "community leaders"--individuals who are successful in their respected fields and also happen to be pierced or adorned in one manner or another. Hearing Keith describe the Ph.D.s and physicists he's pierced is, oddly enough, of some comfort. The couple of times I've confessed my particular piercing interest to those not similarly inclined I've been met with a horrified "Why?" I wonder aloud if "I think it might be sexy" is a legitimate reason. "There are as many reasons to do it, as there are people who do it," Keith offers. For some, it may be that a particular piercing has a sexual or an aesthetic appeal, or it may be that they want to mark time, to "close or open a chapter in their life." For others--members of what Keith calls the "Endorphin Generation"--it's all about experiencing the procedure itself. Keith, who does piercings, as well as the more artistically challenging cuttings and brandings, is careful to explore the "why" with each of his clients. "It's a vetting process," he says, outlining a series of consultations he'll do before agreeing to take on a new client. He feels responsible to ensure that whatever the motivation, no one's going to end up regretting the process. "Like a plastic surgeon?" "Exactly--" he replies, and adds "--now that's body modification." Annoyed by what he views as the overuse of that phrase "body modification," Keith puts forth that piercings aren't really "bod mod" since most can be removed leaving little or no mark. True body modification is a permanent alteration--like a tattoo or a nose job. He's equally irked by the notion that you have to be some sort of pain monger to do what he does. "I don't have a sadistic bone in my body," he insists and I'm secretly relieved.
When I ask if it bothers him to inflict pain --branding, for instance, has got to hurt like hell--he explains that "[branding's] not as painful as you might think. There's instant nerve damage to the site, so the pain is pretty localized." While "nerve damage" instinctively sounds like a bad thing, I see his point. He insists, "I'm not in it to hurt anyone" and I believe him, though I'm amused by his brusque dismissal of a man's refusal to entertain the notion of a Prince Albert [a piercing of the penis] at the behest of his girlfriend. "You won't take one second of pain to increase your lover's enjoyment for the rest of her life?" prods Keith, and he's genuinely perplexed by the man's reticence. "There's a wide range of rich experience available to us as human beings--and our choices determine whether we're princes or paupers," he says without sounding rehearsed. It's a philosophy echoing Auntie Mame's "Life is a banquet, darling, and most poor bastards are starving to death!"--particularly charming coming from giant with tattoos covering both arms.
The sterilization complete, I'm shown to a comfy table in a private piercing room. Even in my hypothetical scenario, I'm starting to freak out. Keith puts me at ease with a gentle wit and slow breathing. We talk quietly as he puts on sterile gloves and wipes down the skin with Betadine. A fresh needle is opened and prepared, the jewelry butted up against it and we breathe together. It's agreed that he'll insert the needle on an out breath. More breathing. When he feels I've relaxed, he pierces. The jewelry threads through behind the needle and... that's it. While I'm gathering my wits about me, Keith explains the aftercare and gives me a printed version to take home. I'm inordinately proud of myself for a moment before remembering that I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY GONE THROUGH WITH IT YET. Keith chuckles as my ego deflates and offers me his card. The store is getting ready to close and he's anxious to get home. I thank him profusely, blush inexplicably and concentrate on not tripping over my shoes as I make my way out to the street.
The
deciding factor? I asked Keith what he dreamed
of being as a child. "An astronaut!" he practically shouted,
suddenly six years old with starry-eyed visions of new frontiers. And
it occurred to me that in his own way--whether it be the new frontier
of the web, or exploring the limits of the human body--he's made his
dream come true. Back to www.nootrope.net/body.html
Lois believes she could subsist on a diet of cherry seltzer and hot sauce. She wears a lipstick called Dietrich and a perfume called Angel. This weekend she cleaned her bathroom, bought a guitar, and watched reruns of Homicide (even though Bayliss is starting get on her nerves). At present, Lois' only piercings are through her ears. If you know of a restaurant in NYC that serves fondue, please write to her at DeConnick@aol.com. She is the publisher and editrix of two zines: the artist forum The Red Planet Poste and the eponymous art/lit zine, er, Lois. |
|||||||
|
Special thanks both to Keith
Alexander and Shannon Larratt of BME
for assistance with images. Maybe you ended up as whatever you wanted to be when you grew up. Or maybe veterinarian, ballerina, and witch were already taken. So here you are, your career clock ticking away, with a job not even worth mentioning at cocktail parties. If you ever went to any. Lucky for you, here comes Lois to save the day. This is the second in her series of unconventional careers that just might get you started down the path to job satisfaction. Hold on to your day jobs! More It's a
Living:
|
