Daniel RolnikThe subjects' names have been changed to protect their identities. All images used are photographs taken by the couple to hint where they did their dirty deeds.
The emerging American performance artist J. Bravo and his gallerist girlfriend Phoebe took a touring sexcation* to Germany in early June. The couple planned their itinerary around a route originally created by Casanova in one of his journals. However, rather then stopping to shag in castles like the legendary lover did centuries ago, Bravo and Phoebe chose to fuck in art museums.
My first and obvious question to Bravo upon his arrival weeks ago was how they managed to execute their sexual escapades without getting caught by security.
“It's not as hard as you might think,” he said. “There's always a place in every museum where someone isn't really looking, like the dark rooms they show movies in or the construction spaces where they're putting up new exhibits.”
My second question was in regards to how they built up the confidence needed to actually “perform” in public spaces.
“We worked on our bravery slowly,” Bravo said. “Taking one step in front of another.”
In the beginning, they exclusively gave each other head in the privacy of bathroom stalls. But by the end of their trip they were going full cock-in-pussy without any hiccups. I imagine that in some sort of roundabout way, the two had taught themselves to be as stealthy as CIA operatives. Or at the very least forever changed the way I thought about the aesthetic design of public institutions.
“Let's just say that after a while, we both stopped wearing underwear and became increasingly suspicious of other couples walking around each exhibit,” Bravo said. “For example, there was one time when it was just us and one other couple sitting in a darkened screening room. The tension was silent, yet intensely thick. It was as if they were waiting for us to leave so they could get it on, while we were waiting for them to leave so we could do the same. In the end, however, we wound up winning the space to ourselves.”
I couldn't imagine that the overall experience was completely comfortable for either party. Sure the stories afterward are great, but having to constantly be on edge wondering if you might get arrested in a foreign country must be a boner killer. So, I tried justifying their acts — or performances, as Bravo might call them, as ways to literally fuck Germany. And seeing as how both me and Bravo lost ancestors to the concentration camps of World War II, it was relatively simple to put two and two together.
Regardless of how accurate my take might be, Bravo is still my hero. To me, he's the Jew who fucked Germany.
The couple isn't quite sure how they will present their sexcation yet. They're both rising stars in the art world, so it's sure to be ironically featured in a museum a couple of years from now. However, today it only exists in narratives written by Bravo from the point of view of his companion Phoebe. A genius move on Bravo's part, since he can guarantee every sexual account be described as satisfying, if not mind-blowing!
*Sexcation: A vacation in which the travel intent is to have sex rather then relax.
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