Isadora Vibes

Knickers: mandatory or meaningless?

At a recent party, I got talking to a friend about the relative benefits of going sans knickers, panties, undergarments - whatever you wish to call them. She was, in the main, all for it but did draw attention to certain biological factors that perhaps required the protection of a gusset. ...

Feminist porn: revolution or reinvention?

Yesterday, I read an article on feminist porn and, as a result, followed links to various websites to investigate further. What I found looked rather worthy and not much fun but is this because fundamentally feminism and porn are diametrically opposed? How can pornography be filmed and presented in a way that satisfies feminists? ...

Writing Joan…

This week is PRIDE in Bristol - my new adopted city. To celebrate I submitted a monologue I wrote some time ago - inspired by staying at a boutique B&B in the Lancashire town of Chorley. I had chosen this place to stay at random and wasn't expecting it to be owned and run by a lesbian couple. And when I say lesbian - what I actually mean is two women in a relationship. One thing I am learning as I begin to my own and explore my 'queer' status, is that labels come with their own instructions. But I digress.. ...

Me and the rabbit

I can never get you clean enough In slippered morning manic Indulging the precarious We straddle porcelain Me and the rabbit Straining necks to check Meringue stiff stucco Egg white whiskered This is not the view we wished for A rusty plug holed whore My Hitchcock retrospective Dizzy with psychobabble Down there all is wet and slick Loose gloop staining all For a second balance falters Imagine the catastrophe Alone and foetally deprived Split skull - bleeding into tap Flushed away with the coffee dregs Metallic stopper Silenced. ...

Seven deadly sins

Seven. Deadly. Sins. Three little words that still send a shiver down spines but in today's world what relevance do they have and do we still reference them in any meaningful way? The nature of sin itself is to be argued. As a performance artist and poet, my work can only ever be truthful. I have no censor. What must be spoken is spoken. Whether it be perceived as deadly or as a sin. My truth as a woman. A feminist. An artist. Am I committing a sin every time I write my truth? The wages of sin are death after all. Perhaps the deadlier the sin, the higher the price to pay. But doesn't that make it all the more tempting and what exactly is a 'sin' these days? ...