RED LIGHT DISTRICT

In Amsterdam, there are cobblestone streets older than you or I. The reflections of  bright street lights quiver in the canals. Every curtained window and every alleyway promises something exciting, something forbidden, and deliciously deviant. 

Amsterdam's Red Light District was established in the 14th century and has remained a major attraction for tourists. The Netherlands, home to the largest port in all of Europe, the Port of Rotterdam, naturally attracted sailors. Sailors who had spent years adrift at sea, now roamed the streets in search of women. In turn, those women wandered the streets carrying red lanterns (for the flattering light they provided) and gave those sailors what they needed so desperately after their travels. 

I am not in Amsterdam tonight. I'm in Boston, Massachusetts at MassArt's Godine Gallery, being flogged on the arm by a leather-clad cat girl wearing a collar. When I drift back into the crowd after thanking the cat girl, the incredible Hannah Zahr, I turn back to see she has another happy customer, who shrugs off his leather jacket and begs for more. Welcome to MassArt's very own Red Light District.

The evening began with a sultry yet melancholic rendition of The Deftones' "Change (In the House of Flies)'' sung by Veronica. "I took you home/Set you on the glass/I pulled off your wings/Then I laughed," Veronica sang, her face barely visible beneath large black shades and a leather conductor's hat. "Change (In the House of Flies)" paints a picture of a relationship gone awry. The admiration the narrator feels for the object of their desire becomes so unbearable that they want to dehumanize, devour, and contain this person. The Deftones make degradation and yearning sound super sexy and so does Veronica. Later that night, barefoot in the courtyard and clearly worn out from her dual role as both a performer and producer, Veronica revealed to me that it was her first-ever performance as a singer. Her brilliance on stage would suggest she’s a seasoned performer.

In between acts, it was impossible not to admire the environment curated by Veronica, featuring works by Iris Velagoshti, Ethan Roy, Onyx Raia, Rose Fitzgerald, Femghoul, Vi Quinn, James Nation, Sophia Gilbert, Jonathan Courchesne, and Kyra Stupik. All the pieces were seamlessly interconnected. Hidden away in a nook, a sign read, "Do you miss connection? Crave the touch of a stranger? Are your hands somewhat dry?" and encouraged guests to enter a lace-laden cave to be lubed up by and share secrets with Raia, who is no longer really Raia, but a gimp wearing a full-body latex ensemble. When whispering your secrets to the voiceless/faceless Raia, one could not help but feel like Roy's piece, a limp, person-shaped, flesh-colored suit hanging on the wall for all to see.

This theme of veiled vulnerability continued with a performance from Super Conducting Super Collider who sang a cover of Joni Mitchell's "All I Want" while illuminated in blue light, cleverly done as a reference to the album "All I Want" belongs to - “Blue” I am used to seeing Super Conducting Super Collider vivaciously playing the sax (and a litany of other instruments) in the company of their band Roaches All The Way Up. For Red Light District, they took a much more subdued approach to their solo performance. Their face covered in a black latex mask, Super Conducting Super Collider softly strummed their guitar as flashlights slowly rose from the crowd and swayed to the song. Playing to a room of mostly Gen-Z students, a generation characterized by their interconnectivity but lack of  intimacy, Mitchell's lyrics, "looking for something, what can it be?/Oh, I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some/Oh, I love you when I forget about me," certainly resonated. Super Conducting Super Collider spoke directly to the ethos of the event when they sang, "Do you see, do you see, do you see how you hurt me, baby?/So I hurt you too/Then we both get so blue." In the Red Light District, the lines are blurred between pain or pleasure, sex or love, and domination or submission. Somehow, they all seem to coexist in the land of leather and latex.

After Super Conducting Super Collider's performance, the crowd erupted into cheers. Soon, the cheers evolved into chatter as the stage crew began to assemble a stand for a gauzy white curtain. Silence overtook the audience as projections of caterpillars began to light up the curtain, and the ambient cooing of FKA Twigs's song "Cellophane" filled the room. From behind the curtain emerged Mollie Guac, rocking a headpiece that resembled the disk-like halos in 4th-century Christian paintings. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Guac clawed away her white collar and outerwear to reveal her fringe-adorned dress and sparkly tights.Watching Guac dance as she perfectly embodied the rawness of FKA Twigs's music was mesmerizing. There was a palpable sense of desperation in the performance as Guac moved her fringe-covered sleeves like wings in time to the drumbeat. If Twigs has her love wrapped in cellophane, Guac subverts that with her cocoon from which she breaks free. In the same way that Twigs's love is contained yet still visible through cellophane, Guac is also vulnerable yet contained. Guac is unknowable to us behind her persona and costuming- her art though meticulous and controlled is still deeply intimate. 

Guac's performance transitioned well into River Heckman's piece. He fashioned a flog out of bluish needles that, from far away, almost resembled beads or seaglass. Heckman softly flogged himself while an ambient-sounding backtrack played. The self-flagellation was a powerful visual and served as a reminder that doing what is good for you may not always be wholly pleasurable. After Heckman's performance came a dance piece performed by Adine Raboy, Nandana Venkatesan, and Veronica to the song "Loyalty" by Kendrick Lamar ft. Rihanna. Did it give me a bit of emotional whiplash to go from the intimate and emotionally hefty pieces of Heckman and Guac to the fiery hot dance routine? Absolutely. It also made for a scandalously great time. The finale was a DJ set by KittenLuv, which allowed everyone, including the performers from the night, to dance out their inhibitions and truly solidified the evening as a Red Light to remember. 

In Amsterdam’s Red Light District sits Oude Kirk (English: Old Church). Oude Kirk is the oldest building in Amsterdam. It has high wooden vaulted ceilings. Multicolor lights emerge through stained glass illuminating the pillars inside. Golden yellow, bright red, and cerulean blue. On the south-facing side of the Oude Kerk a bronze relief of a hand cupping a breast is set amongst the street's cobblestones. The piece was donated to the city by an anonymous artist. During Massart’s Red Light District there was a sense that something equally transgressive was occurring. I have never witnessed a College co-signing such a provocative event. Amongst the uniform gray cobblestones of our everyday lives Massart’s Red Light District glistens like the smooth bronze of that relief- mysterious and sensual. Behind the black curtain surrounding Godine more than just skin was exposed. That night it felt as if the red lights would never be dimmed, that the party would continue on till the early morning hours. Eventually though, the crowd of students cleared, glass containers of mocktail and ice were left to melt, and all that was left was scattered scraps of paper with QR codes on tables that were draped in black linen. MassArt’s Red Light District was over.