Suspension of Disbelief (continued...)

The cultural significance of suspension is under debate, Valenti cites about 50% of his audience see resonances of the crucifixion, or something similar, however, he states the motivations vary and a lot of the time it’s just achieving something that seem humanly impossible. He has suspended people in the past, and it has been a spiritual and ritualistic thing for them, his clients being students of suspension that dates back hundreds of years to India and Sri Lanka. He believes that there are rituals, which share similar reasons and outcomes to suspension, that are linked to religions and spiritual experiences; such as in different types of Muslim sects, where they would beat themselves to the point of passing out, and even in Christian cultures, there were and are monks that carry out blood rituals.

When piercings started to re-surface again in the 1970s and 1980s, it was targeted to the gay and fetish community, which is an idea that has permeated people’s minds until today. That is one of the assumptions that Valenti encounters a lot; people assume the things he does to his body is because of the pain and to fulfil a fetish. He is quick to acknowledge how individual these experiences are, and for many people, it probably is a fetish thing. He says that he does suspension for the adrenaline and endorphin rush, as well as the nervous energy of building up to a performance. Valenti and his colleague, Ben, created a performance group of about 16 people, where they do suspension as performance art. While they get booked for shows through fetish nightclubs like Hellfire, which supports the idea that suspension and piercings probably is fetishised for many people, they are also booked for more conservative gigs like the Opera Bar. Last year, they did a total of 8 shows and in the last month and a half, they did 2 shows, which Valenti says is very uncomfortable, as they didn’t have enough time to heal between shows, because of the amount of movement required by the performers.

Polymorph may offer seemingly intimidating practices to people who aren’t part of this subculture or lifestyle, but Valenti says one of the most important things to him is bedside manner. “The reason we operate the way we do in the studio is because I think the hardest thing for someone to do is walk through the door and ask you a question… I don’t see the point in making someone feel uncomfortable when they are getting something done, which makes them feel so vulnerable.” By just walking into the studio, you can see the difference between this clean, privately owned space with friendly workers compared to walking into a seedier, biker-type tattoo/piercing studio. All the piercers are dealing with and accommodating to customers, and in the corner, there is a group of people who appear to be just hanging out in the studio.

Valenti does deal with people projecting clichéd stereotypes onto him, particularly when he visits his mum in the Western suburbs. However, as he pointed out, that his body and every individual’s body are immune to censorship politics, while other cultural practices, such as art and literature may be more susceptible. His balance of viewing the body as clinical, while also an artistic site takes on its own political implications. “Well, hell, if it’s the only way I can really express myself without anybody giving me the big ‘fuck off,’ then I’m going to do it.”