chitinousresin

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An homage to Giger's polaroid reference photos for Erotomechanics

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Ichor in the red room and tar in the white

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A silent film

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Playing with the format and seeing what sticks

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Tumblr makes it reeeally difficult to share anything here... I thought we were done with the hardcore censorship

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Silhouette in red

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Experiments in PVC after midnight

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Experiments in PVC after midnight

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Hot cum on the asphalt, glistening with crystalline glass shards where tires left their rubber lipstick kiss in a sudden turn.

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Its possible I'm projecting

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MidnightParkingGarageBukkake.zip

MidnightParkingGarageBukkakePart2.avi ParkingGarageSubjectMoans.wav ParkingGarage_roomtone.wav FluidsOnConcrete_texturepack.zip FluidsOnCar_texturepack.zip PostFuckFleshLandscape_texturepack.zip LustLanguageTranscription.pdf

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Spiral station staircase and tentacular trespess

I'm not sure of the tentacle's true origin but I was entertained by sticking it over myself in the center of a photo I took at the top of a downward spiral staircase.

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Splashes of pearlescent ichor bead down the arching, chitinous shell of her mech's visor, strings of white disappearing into the obsidian pool of oxygenated heavy-fluid that drains through opened floor vents at a steady and unbroken pace to reveal the insectillian hard body of her cockpit, and of her own still erect cock which had successively pumped out the ichor upon decoupling from the inguen socket in the first place as it continued to drip down from the visor onto her abdomen, her forarms still secured vertically at each side into the haptic clasps as she panted, shivering in the temperature differentiations and the buildup of another ejaculation.

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The air smells like blown fuses and rust, tastes of salty pennies and aniseed, and it all makes her dizzy, makes her salivate as her body congresses with fog bruised by jaundiced street lamps on an abandoned asphalt road where her sweat pearls, dripping into the veinlike river of an oil spill, the suburban street seeming to cum as much as she does between an audience of townhomes; shrouded sculptures in the mist whose doors are no longer meant for people.

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Ad EMU I var: A, B self-shot and collage

Seeing a scan of the interview Project X magazine conducted with William Gibson, Dennis Ashbaugh, and Kevin Begos on their 'book' Agrippa pushed me into taking another stab at emulating an old magazine ad (utilizing the blank space of one of its pages with my own photo). Going through papers almost always offers unique artifacts of necessity but it takes no mark of brilliance to observe that such a necessity is rising again on the tides of censorship both commercial and privatized. I've included the cellular device intentionally to contrast with print media in a scenario where both seemingly anachronistic methods of communication become tools of equal value working in tandem.