June 21, 2005

Surreal suspensions

A modern rite of passage

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By Jennifer Squires
Ashland Daily Tidings

Alex Vazquez of Elemental Rites, left, talks to Jesse Templin, right, who is doing a Superman suspension June 3 at Nuwandart Gallery during the First Friday Artwalk. All photos by Orville Hector | Ashland Daily Tidings

Alex Vazquez massaged a pre-op/ post-op antibacterial gel into the flesh on Andy Henderson’s shoulder blades. The gel disinfects, and the movement draws the skin away from the tissue so the piercing is less painful.

Henderson, 22, laid still and silent on the piercing table in the back room of Elemental Rites as Vazquez, 26, punctured Henderson’s skin with a 10-gauge needle, then forced a 9-gauge hook through the hole. The metal going into his skin was slightly larger than the needle and looked like a coat hook.

“When you get pierced, it brings something out,” said Henderson, who had one only previous experience with body modification — a 10-second suicide suspension. “Even with the hooks in the back, it looks a lot worse than it really is.”

The body suspensions on First Friday caught visitors off guard earlier this month.

On this day, Vazquez put hooks in four men in their early 20s. The hooks were actually fish hooks meant to catch 2,000-pound sharks. Vazquez buys them, then grinds off the barbs and has the hooks sterilized. They are returned to Elemental Rites, the piercing shop where Vazquez works, sealed in plastic.

Kavi Keshavasya does his first suspension — in the lotus position — at Nuwandart Gallery.

Wearing a surgeon’s mask and gloves, Vazquez maneuvered around the table with the metal tray of hooks and needles like he was performing a minor operation, not preparing for an artistic performance.

“I don’t really do it to entertain the people,” said Vazquez, who has been involved in body modification for six years. “For me, personally, it’s just a way of reaching a higher state of existence, an out-of-body experience.”

Henderson and Brandon McCloskey, 21, both had a pair of hooks in their backs and, at the show, were be connected with parachute cord to pull against one another in a flesh pull. Kavi Keshavasya, a 20-year-old from Eugene, hung from 12 hooks attached by parachute cord to an I-bolt in the ceiling while seated in the lotus position. He chose the position because he practices it frequently during his Vedic yoga meditations. Jesse Templin, a 23-year-old who has been suspended vertical in the suicide position, had 12 hooks distributed in his back, upper thighs and ankles to hold him flat in a superman position.

A rite of passage

People are drawn to body suspensions for several reasons: a pure adrenaline and endorphin rush, the chance to conquer fears, or to try to reach a new level of spiritual consciousness.

“I think we’re wired genetically for transcendental experiences,” said Dennis Mead-Shikaly, a personal coach who is a leader in the international Mankind Project, conducted men’s initiations for nearly 20 years and recently started the Accountability in Men program at Southern Oregon University.

“I think we’re wired to connect to the sacred and ritual is a way we embody that connection,” Mead-Shikaly said. “It is an experience and it is a rite of passage and it can be a beautiful thing.”

The book “The Modern Primitive” drew Vazquez into tribal practices when he was a teenager. Six years ago, he took part in his first suspension and began “hooking” others who wanted to experience the rituals. He has been suspended more than 10 times, wears three body piercings and has “one big tattoo” that starts at his head and goes to his feet.

“In the absence of conscious initiation, the young people who are at that place and ready for it look around see no conscious initiatory experiences available,” Mead-Shikaly said, explaining people turn to tattoos, piercing and other pushing-the-envelope activities that challenge what older members of the culture find acceptable. “We’ve been remiss in creating conscious rites of passage for our youth. I’m not surprised that they’re doing that.”

Vazquez is now the spiritual guide for other young men seeking a way to test the limits of their bodies and minds.

“What I’m trying personally to do is show the ancient ways of passage,” Vazquez said. “The primitive movement has now come full-circle.”

The rites of passage they perform through the body suspensions and flesh pulls have been a part of tribal rituals around the world for centuries. The debate over where the customs started is ongoing and, in Vazquez’s mind, unnecessary.

“It’s definitely a lot of different practices,” Vazquez said. “It’s a very universal thing for us to feel connected to ourselves and the world.”

Two days before the ritual, Keshavasya decided to participate, though he had never done any similar body modification in the past.

“Looking back on it, it was a rite of passage for me,” said Keshavasya, who fasted for two days prior to being suspended in the lotus position and spent the morning of the event in mediation. “When you have an experience like that it truly changes your thinking and perception of the world.

“For me, It was a very spiritual experience ... it was a way to connect with the divine. There are still things from this one that I am absorbing and processing into my life. I felt it was a very deep introspective experience that I’d like to process for some time.”

Sharing the experience

Body suspensions and flesh pullings, although they have a modest following of people who share photos and stories online, usually occur in small, intimate settings. The Friday display at Nuwandart was, perhaps, the first public display of body modification in Ashland.

Vazquez decided to take part in the show at Nuwandart to bring as many aspects of the practice to others as possible. Photographs of previous body modifications done by locals and two-dimensional art were also on display.

“It’s more about ritualistic rites of passage,” said Vazquez, who regards body modifications as sacred ceremonies.

More than 200 people signed waivers saying they had eaten recently and understood the display may disturb them, then stepped behind the white curtains that shielded the four young men from the front window and the open door.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Melodie Buell of Ashland.

Buell and Steve Kominsky left the flesh-pulling display to “let our stomachs settle” before the lotus and superman suspensions began.

“It’s certainly an alternate form of release,” said Kominsky, who thought just watching was enough and admitted he wouldn’t be into doing the rituals himself. “For me, it was pretty nerve-wracking.”

Inside, though, people crowded in and, mostly in silence, watched McCloskey and Henderson use all of their weight to pull against one another.

A little girl, no older than six or seven, with her mother begs to stay when her mom tells her it’s time to leave and let other people into the small performance area.

Another angle on Kavi Keshavasya’s lotus suspension shows the skin on his chest being pulled taut by a pair of hooks.

“This is really neat,” the girl said to her mother. “I want to watch more.”

The hooks in Henderson’s back stretched the skin more than an inch off of his flesh; McCloskey’s skin was thicker and didn’t pull out in the same manner.

“It’s awesome,” McCloskey said, realizing he forgot to phone his girlfriend, who had gone home to take a nap before the show started.

Still tugging against Henderson, McCloskey pulled his cell phone from his pants’ pocket to ask her to come down.

“We’re here,” McCloskey said. “I forgot to call you ... I do love you.”

Staff writer Jennifer Squires can be reached at 482-3456 x 3019 or jsquires@dailytidings.com.