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BODYMATTER

A gif of Dionysos Slain, a drag king dressed all in cream lace and ruffles and wearing a bonnet, performing on stage. He swishes around a gauzy robe as he lipsyncs.
A gif of Dionysos Slain taking off his corset, upon which his intestines fall out. He gathers them up dramatically.
A gif of Dionysos Slain holding his guts and gesticulating. He has now removed his shirt as well, and his costume underneath is a top with a ribcage and organs underneath.
ATTENDED BY ROSES BY KISSES BY CHERUBIM BY WHATEVER THESE PINK THINGS MEAN  
ATTENDED BY ROSES BY KISSES BY CHERUBIM BY WHATEVER THESE PINK THINGS MEAN  


A photograph of Dionysos on stage in his cream ensemble.

THE MIX

Fever 103° by Sylvia Plath read by Sylvia Plath

Immaterial by Sophie

PERFORMANCES

05.12.22 Kitsch! at Loco Klub, Bristol

To book this act, please email dionysosslain@gmail.com


FLESH

Although I love the oozy, liquid latex, practical effects type of horror drag, I don’t really aspire to it. Aesthetically and conceptually, I’m far more interested in creating something visceral out of textiles and ornament – soft sculpture lungs with strings of fake pearls between them as a cocoon of fat. If the bedrock claim of drag isn’t that the body is only and always textile, then I don’t know what is.

I want to be a Louise Bourgeois fabric sculpture or a ragdoll with detachable limbs; I want to embroider the omens directly onto my liver (“did you stone those guts?”).

This was my debut performance and I didn’t know how to move very well. I haven’t found the right show or stage to do this act again yet, but I want to tighten up the audio and insert some text from Monique Wittig’s The Lesbian Body into the mix. The plexuses the glands the ganglia the lobes the mucosae the tissues etc etc etc


A selfie of Dionysos in the mirror, his shirt and jacket open to reveal the anatomical top. His guts are coiled around his neck.
A proper view of the anatomical top, laid out on the floor.


A 16 second video of Dionysos performing. He wears an outfit of cream lace and ruffles, with a bonnet and knee-length breeches. He gestures dramatically and swirls his robe around as he lipsyncs to a low voice reading a poem out loud. The poem goes 'does not my heat astound you - and my light. All by myself I am a huge camellia, glowing and coming and going flush on flush.

CREDITS

Videos taken by Lydia

Event photography by Lana

Page background is Untitled (no. 13 of 14, from À l'Infini set 1) by Louise Bourgeois

Scrolling text comes from Fever 103° by Sylvia Plath


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