DON’T LOVE ME, I’M YOUR TOY
The book’s crowdfunding campaign has started! Until June 15th you can contribute to the book publishing and get cool stuff as retribution! Check it here
It's about loneliness, screens and sex. The computer screen is an observation box where men show themselves through the filter of a screen. Next to that, you'll find short stories about a woman who presents herself as a tired stereotypical image of desire and sexiness.I'm now working on a book project. The whole thing is also ready to be exhibited and stories are being turned into a sound installation as well. ***To participate to the book publishing, have a look at the crowdfunding campaign "Dont' love me, I'm your toy" on KissKissBankBank. ***Thanks!
DON’T LOVE ME, I’M YOUR TOY
The book’s crowdfunding campaign has started! Until June 15th you can contribute to the book publishing and get cool stuff as retribution! Check it here
I’ll be working with @williamesdale from Dirty Illness, independent publisher ((UK), to launch the book!
Hello all,
During next months, I will be entering a second phase of creation for the «Don’t love, I’m your toy» project: portraits of men posing via Skype.
For this, I will need at least 30 more men willing to participate. It can be done from anywhere in the world (as long as you speak French, English or Italian to make communication possible). There is no physical or specific age criteria- though I would need more people between 40-50 years old. The idea is to pose naked torso (or show more skin if you want, I’m ok). You should be able to put your computer/camera in your bedroom. Appointments can be taken during the day or in the evening.
This project is about desire, loneliness, new communication tools and intimacy. It is a reverse gaze of a woman towards men’s body and its representation. It will be mixed with erotic short stories - but pictures don’t illustrate the texts! So you will not be associated with them. Stories are like a separate chapter. What this could become, or what I would like it to become, is a published book. Pictures can be exhibited, stories can be told (more like a performance).
WHAT I WOULD LOVE:
* If you fit the description (and actually every man does, only make your bedroom available and get a Skype account), please contact me. You will not necessarily look good in the pictures, but that’s not the point. Is it? Plus, your face will remain anonymous. It will not be photographed or will be darkened in postproduction. Don’t be scared, it’s gonna be fine, no experience needed. It takes between 15 and 35 minutes.
SEND ME A MESSAGE TO PARTICIPATE
* If you find this interesting but not for you, please share it with at least 1 person who likes that kind of challenges (to meet someone unknown and pose for her in front of your computer).
Note that this is an artist’s project. Not a pervert’s project. This also means that I will not be able to pay you, as no one pays me to do this and $$$ return is absolutely not guaranteed for me either. But you will receive few pictures in exchange (to show your kids later?) and I’ll submit my selection of pictures to your agreement.
This is a very fun thing to do. I already photographed about 40 people, it went great, nice meetings, good people. It is at the same time a weird and an exciting experience. So just message me to see when we can arrange a meeting.
* You can apply until January 2017.
Thank you so much!
Aurore
for a preview: http://auroradalmas.tumblr.com
Website: http://www.auroredalmas.com
EN //
He asked for a
room with a view on the highway- it’s more romantic. We’ve been given room 11.
I undress immediately, he turns on the television.
On the screen, strangers are dying. It must be in the south of Italy. They sleep in box shelters, work and die in the fields. Without any regard. Like creatures that nobody takes care of, then being buried anywhere. (…)
FR //
Il a demandé une chambre avec vue sur l’autoroute, c’est plus romantique. On nous a donné la chambre 11. Je me suis déshabillée tout de suite, il a allumé la télévision.
A l’écran, des étrangers meurent. Ça doit être le sud de l’Italie. Ils dorment dans des abris, travaillent et meurent dans les champs. Sans égards. Comme des bêtes, dont on se fout, et qu’on enterre n’importe où. (…)