Treating bodies like botany, in intense, investigative close up, scientifically graphic, reveals them at their most intimate but also maybe their most anonymous and dissociated.

Visual distortions mixed together providing and interconnectedness found only within another's embrace

Sex 'fuses' bodies, entering, penetrating, consuming, holding, manipulating physical forms to remove any space left between us, pushing through spacial boundaries to experience an intense and vulnerable closeness and combination. 'Fuse' also references electricity, electrical currents and overload, whereas Carolee Schneemann shot her film Fuses in 1967 on analog 16mm celluloid we make films, fuck and communicate using digital, electronic devices, currents flowing across continents onto screens - now more than ever in the wake of the pandemic. A film made in lockdown isolation that honoured the potential future collaborations missed and explored new ways to fuse and fuck across distances. Bodies projected over and merging, the light from them captured through lenses into binary, transmitted across distances into shimmering pixels on screens thrown in beams of light onto and into another body.

Sleep is such a vulnerable state, it requires a complete letting go of control. Slipping out of waking consciousness into another world. A world controlled by an unpredictable subconscious that loves to play tricks on you. Watching someone fall asleep is to see them move through different states of being, exposed and unaware.

Momentum, moments, movement mix together in bliss.

The thiasus, was the ecstatic retinue of Dionysus.

All that glitters is gold, images built in the pooling trails across skin.

An exploration in narcissistic desire, a kind of autoeroticopsis in being the subject of desire for yourself.

Why do we like to be called Mommy? The archetype of mother looms over us across cultures, it’s powerful and ubiquitous so it’s unsurprising that it can show up in our sexual psyches.

You're watching everything pass you by but you're separated, removed from the outside world by a pane of glass, sealed in your own private reality. Time moves differently inside. You're able to observe and be observed by other drivers that pass but you're each just watching from inside your own tiny parallel universes. Surrounded by these endlessly travelling lights and shadows, ghosts of the outside creeping in. Inside a moving prism of glass and mirrors reflecting cycling scattered images from another time and another place.

Softness and wetness and opening yourself up. About consuming and feeding, being merged and joined. One consuming the other, both folding into each other, temporarily one.

Not fucking but being fucked. Being taken. Taken out of your brain and into your body. Sex that knocks sense out of you for a second. Where you’re weightless and grounded, pinned and stretched. No pleasantries, no thinking just being and doing. Guts, sweat and pumping blood. Giving up and giving in to your body.

The process of turning base material into gold, the philosophers stone. A metaphor for the way certain acts and bodily materials are treated as obscene and base and how powerfully transcendent they can be transforming them into elixir, into gold, something precious.

It wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

Our orgies are acts of ritual celebration that against the odds, somehow, still here in the writhing and intertwining of smoke, sweat and bodies.

Transgression in the form of unyielding bodies melding together and the rebirth of self it causes

The act of penetration at its core is invasion, sometimes intensely and acutely desired and begged for and sometimes more complex. The sensation is intense and can be entirely changeable depending on the context in which the act takes place. This film is about invading and consuming. The monotonous, sterile mechanics of the fuck machine is hypnotic, the unwavering noise and repetition of movement that’s entirely oblivious to desire or want. It continues to thrust and fuck regardless.

Jealousy is a visceral emotion. Being driven to distraction and loss of control is akin to slipping down the rabbit hole, a descent into hell. Safety morphs into paranoia. Perception of reality becomes unfixed. Full collapse. Desperation can become an intense crucible for obsessive desire.

There's something so special about adult films pre internet digitization, VHS tapes copied and circulated in your community, mailing lists and screening parties and brown paper bags were the distribution model. The intimate privacy of a time capsule contained in a black plastic film cartridge, hidden in the back of a drawer, labelled as something inconspicuous so as not to arouse suspicion - hidden treasure.

Tender kisses, sharp nails, and desire laid out in a bed of flowers