The joke I've made a million times already is that I used my sweet and accommodating girlfriend as a model for my Bukkake review, an oversight that led to the birth of my son nine months later, give or take a few months and dramatic re-imaging.
It's safe to say, Sleaze's Bukkake piece is an important one, for me personally and professionally, as it's not just a bookmark in the Keshi Drop's pages, but also a symbolic harbinger of friendship with it's designer many time-zones away.
Flirting aside, with Sleaze emerging from it's cocoon and starting their new rebranding campaign, pairing the release of Nuclear Green Bukkake with the good ol' classic Glow In The Dark White is as solid of a business plan as I've ever heard. The wad of love has seen a few renditions since it's first contact with the public. It's seen flesh, phrasing, glittery customs, orange, purple, yellow, and the ever attractive flesh-white swirl, exclusive to Japanese retail joints. And long before the last colorways hit shelves, the original white had long sold out, so its good to see it come back again, maybe a year or so later after it's initial release.
When this second wave of original Glow in the Dark whites drop I am not absolutely sure, but like Nuclear Green, I think it's within this month or next, so keep checking with them on social media or back here, where I'll certainly update this information when I have the fresh details.
It's been some time since the original voyage, and it's gained a lot more attention than just from here. I guess the question now is, right now, how do I feel about this piece, now with some mileage under it's belt?
At the core of this commentary are two factors. The first being a portion of my first impression and review. I had praised it's boldness to captivate an audience, even essentially against their own will.
"It captures your attention, your imagination, and instills certain feels, albeit uncomfortable (pronouncing that how you wish) in the audience. Whether that's a glowing happy place or some sort of repulsion or anything in between, a two inch rubber mini-figure did that, and that sort of powerful witchcraft is pretty much reserved to art and powerful ex-girlfriend witchcraft."
That's what I said last June and it still very much stands and represents the core of my thoughts on this piece, however this dust-ball of a thought has gathered more in size and complexity, at least I'd like to suggest it has.
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| courtesy of toy break and october toys |
Paired with that is a short clip in an episode of Toy Break, Episode #139 to be exact.
Here's the link if you wish it view it yourself. Up until last fall, Toy Break was a pretty enjoyable YouTube series that covered all kinds of designer toys, big and small. Their company, October Toys, released many mini-figures that I loved very much, but as of last fall, production of the show and their mini-figures reached it's end, an event that really settled with me pretty poorly.
I bring this all up as preface, because, at first, I felt their review on Bukkake was pretty unfair. Ayleen looked physically uncomfortable near it, and couldn't personally pinpoint a reason to buy it, until the obvious was stated for her. George gave it a slightly positive overview, with Brandon seeming uninterested. This obviously didn't mirror my sentiments, and my knee jerk reactions were shouting at the screen,"It's just a toy!" Producing their own mini-figures, they must of obviously known the material used in the piece. In no way is the piece made of actual ejaculate. How could anyone treat it like it could have been? Simple disagreements swirled my head, wanting to correct them, mentally through my computer screen. "They just did it wrong", I felt for a while. "They should go back and try it again, but this time, actually try to get it." However, after the wave of brat-like indignity washed over me, I had something of an epiphany. I was wrong about them, as I usually am in situations, and wrong with their reaction to the piece. In fact, their reaction was a beam or a crutch that was supporting my own.
This gets two fold, so I apologize for the rabbit hole and the unnecessarily boring trip down it, but I have to explain two things at this point. Generally, Bukkake should get to main reactions. The first being some sort of positive thumbs-up or excitement, maybe even to the point of reveling into it's brash lewdness. The other is disgust, rejection, apprehension, and a desire to distance oneself away, physically and mentally. The short explanation is that our two reviews fell on those two general fields, to varying degrees. A statement more obvious than pointing and witnessing the sun as it's rising in the sky, I enjoy gross things that gross people out, most of the time to very extremes, and these were people who were grossed out. The standard and definition of this niche appeal hinges on the disgust of other unnamed, unknown, people, likely bored, overprotective, stay-at-home mothers, but not the Toy Break crew. For a moment, I think my admiration for them clouded my ability to let them assume the role of the disgusted people I had always felt had nothing in common with me. Clearly, the revolted and the distanced were a lot more similar to me and weren't these super-sensitive straw men I had created for this purpose. So I mentally raised the "I'm sorry! I'm stupid!" flag, however from years upon years of use, it had grown worn out and torn. I put it back and just make a mental note. From then on, I embraced their reaction as something symbiotic to mine and got over it. At least I tried to, until I found the rabbit hole went deeper.
Here's the second part of my comprehensive nonsense. I just covered the general feelings I assumed people would fall into when meeting a piece like Bukkake. One group would embrace it and one would not be so keen to. The layer underneath asks why. What causes those reactions and what is rooted in our minds that trigger those impulses? Is one right and one wrong? I feel this second layer gets pretty close to the center of this metaphorically world, a nebulous zone of emptiness and weightlessness, where opinion and perspective reigns over fact, so I'm going to speak a bit more suggestively and leave ideas for you to think about on your own than try to explain how or what to think or feel.
Bukkake, as stated before, is a rubber mini-figure and nothing more, but assuming the role of a dripping monster of human goo. Is the line of acceptance and rejection the ability to acknowledge and separate fact from imagination? I would suggest not, because what if it was. Even growing up as a gross-loving child, there is a huge difference of throwing some quarters in a machine for a capsule of neon green slime to mash into the carpet when we got home and actually just finding something faintly similar in a used condom on the sidewalk. I can't imagine the demographic of people who are actually into that, although I assume there are some, in not a few, but certainly distinctively smaller than the group of people who just like slime and Garbage Pail Kids.
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| artwork by giuseppe cristiano |
So the hinge of that is why? There can be little said about why people are grossed out to the idea of gross things. Normal, reasonable, minds would keep their lives free of unnecessary germs, illness, harm, and general mess as natural self-defense mechanism. Those without that trigger have some explaining to do. For me personally, I've seen the worst side of germs and harm. I've been bitten by poison spiders, lost skin and toenails in skateboard crashes, and found myself in the hospital twice for crazy strange muscle or skin infections, but, the way I see it, I'm still here. I haven't been ejected from the surface of the planet yet, so no matter how gross things are or could be, it's not enough to trigger my self defense. I am no longer afraid of spiders or doctors or exam rooms or the human body slowly mending itself, but I wouldn't be interested in some more gross things found on the sidewalk. So there is a distinction.
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| artwork by giuseppe cristiano |
Harmless gross toys could hit or miss your natural trigger to defend your health, but I would suggest there is also a different social element to it as well. The term Bukkake just doesn't imply what the monster is made of, but how. There is a certain way to make something like that. Certain chefs of certain sorts have to know how this recipe works, because it's not just ingredients. Close to this nebulous area of opinion, we can discuss if the act of baking this cake is toeing the line or firmly pressed into moral and social repugnance, so be warned, we're going there. What does this act say about a man as an individual, men as a group, a woman as an individual, and a single woman with a group of men? We swirl now within the center of this mass of opinion, as I now feel a bit cowardly to not confront any of it, as I pass the responsibility onto you. Within this act, are there people or objects? What is the goal, if there is one? Is it the final result or the performance? Is it not just a fog of complex desires, pulling at different extremes? At least we can hope so, if we're to assume it's all fun and games and everyone leaves pleased with their work, although I think it's naive to think that happens absolutely every time. Maybe some people at sometimes want to have a bad time. That subject might be best left for a different time and a different place.
The final tangent of barely coherent ramble is the string of logic that excludes or does not exclude Bukkake from being as potentially repugnant as it's source of inspiration. Let it also show, to maybe no true value, that I am male and Ayleen is female. Lost to me at first, but there are distinct emotions attached or possibly attached by being of a certain gender. Bukkake could very well mean and represent something different, hold a different perspective, carry a different weight, from person to person, but also what gender you identify as. The action of creating such a monster would ask of different things from different people of different genders, and dependent of the desires of the individual, they all might not be the fairest of proposition.
Now, nearly a year later, I ask what is it that allows Bukkake to be exciting to some? Is it the fact that it's brings us close to the fire, but doesn't allow you to burn? Or is it the deadening thud of an otherwise thunderous clap? Is it something small, simple, and harmless, derivative of something quite possibly opposite in every way? Why must we as a people humanize everything? Does every thought and act require a walking, speaking, representation? Would we understand it less if not? Or would it just fade back into our minds, away from our daily worry and concern? Does it need a body away from our own? Is it not a part of it's charm that it says something about itself in such a manner we could never? Maybe we are maybe voyeurs to Bukkake's world, happily able to check out when it's most convenient? I think you get the gist.
Bukkake is a monster, in concept and in form. He's a massively large and thick keshi representation of something even more unwieldy. The only difference is that he comes in a variety of attractive colors, blinding us to the task of responsibility, with a veil of collectibility. Wherever you fall within this scope between disgust and excitement, I have to suggest, if nothing else, it's a remarkable feat to even drag us this far with mere rubber casting and design alone.
If you made it this far, from the bottom of my heart- thank you! I hope there wasn't a tremendous amount of loose ends and screwed-up sentences up there, and the general feeling of it all makes some sense. I look forward to doing more pieces like this, as well as more news and reviews, so please make it back. Until next time!
On the heels of their latest sell-out of their nuclear green colorway, Sleaze is taking it all the way back to what made their trash so hot to begin with, but with a little extra love on the side.
