Have you ever colored in a vulva? Gotten spanked in front of a room full of people? Jerked off a woman with a Wii controller? I have.
What I’m talking about is an art exhibit put on by Buffalo’s own Squeaky Wheel on February 9. The party went down at the Broadway Market, located at 999 Broadway. For a fair $15 a person, Peepshow allowed patrons to take an interactive peek at every artist’s perception of sexual intimacy and desire in any way, shape, or species. It was a collection of artistic works that incorporated human sexuality in bizarre, funny, and sexy ways. More than anything, Peepshow opened the floor to discussion, and alleviated the usual stress that accompanies conversations about sex. It was a forum for those unafraid to test their limits—and have a few drinks while they’re at it.
This is not the first time Peepshow has shocked our senses with nudity and shameless sexual deviancy. In 2006, the Peepshow was held in the notorious Lenox Hotel. Untamed libido and bawdiness roamed the narrow hallways, brushing against velvet, sneaking into rooms with more than suggestive exhibits. Seriously, folks, you could smell the sex in there. Some art installments could only be seen through the hotel room peepholes. Others were focused on patron participation. Attendees that participated could get a photo of their boobs put onto a pin, or have a wedding ceremony with a member of the same or opposite sex. To this day, I still remember my first, smutty, hotel room wedding—to my female friend. Rice was thrown; long-lasting love was cemented. That was my induction into the Peepshow tradition.
This time around, the Peepshow was not housed within the lush, ostentatious walls of the Lenox—a major disappointment. The Broadway Market is a large space where artists’ booths stood, interrupted by vendors, gift shops, and a small eating area. Though the exhibits were still a fantastic outgrowth of sexploration, the location wasn’t as effective as the luxurious Lenox, with its old, steep staircases, and an aura of ‘70s motel sleaze. The Lenox gave a home to these artists’ pieces, but the Market really diminished their power. The thin walkways of the Lenox forced people to rub up against each other; unintentionally creating a thick, impenetrable wall of eroticism. The overall mood was raw covetousness. Though, I can’t lie; I did plenty of coveting.
The exhibits were sexually, visually, and mentally stimulating. Among them, the “Sex Ed Classroom” was calling my name. It was a symposium of arts and crafts tables that prompted you to draw your “O” face, show your partner where you like to be touched, do a little “pornogamy,” or even some public, mutual masturbation, among other activities. Each of those little sultry kindergarten games got you a star, and five of those got me a public spanking, with my weapon of choice—the school girl’s ruler. Absurdity did not cross my mind as I rushed around the room, all for an over-the-knee spanking from dominatrix Caesandra Seawell.
Brian Milbrand and Holly Johnson’s installation was lewd and entertaining, featuring a Wii simulation of awarding a virtual, beautiful, naked woman an orgasm. You have to work for it, of course. Not everyone is lucky enough to please this femme fatale. Some get a slap across the face on the screen for unskilled romancin’, yours truly included. Artist Tom Holt painted designs on people in an exhibit called “Meat Market,” held in a room full of peepholes, through which curious peeping Toms could look in. It was the ultimate frontier of voyeurism. A fascinating video about “The Secret Sex Lives of Plants” screened in a room full of flowers emitting intoxicating smells, was balmy and stimulating to the senses.
Though the Peepshow redeemed itself in its stunning artistic capacity, there were some drawbacks, like exhibits that didn’t seem to work—for example, the “Love Seat,” which sat motionless, with a blank TV staring back at it. The live music was dissociated from the rest of the ensemble, blaring into the vast space of the Broadway Market. At times, raucous, indistinguishable sounds floated over to all the erotica, but it didn’t enhance the experience in the least. The Peepshow suffered mildly from its relocation, which made the sexploring confused and detached, as we wandered from one booth to another, in a mall-like space; its efforts, however, did not go overlooked. It is a genius meeting of minds, as well as bodies, and all who go are guaranteed to have a good time—but only if they are open to the possibility of exploring their own sexuality in front of an enthusiastic, lively, and horny audience. It’s no fun being a wallflower at this sexpo.
