I Finally Went to Seattle Erotic Art Festival
I checked a lot of "patron" boxes, but I learned I prefer being the art.
Seattle Erotic Art Festival, produced by the Pan Eros Foundation, has been going strong for over two decades. According to the website, its mission is:
“(to) encourage the creation, enjoyment, and purchase of erotic art–sparking conversations to ignite personal and cultural evolutions.”
I’ve wanted to attend for a few years now, but I never had someone to go with me. As you know, I’ve broken out of my shell, determined to not let solo travel stop my pursuits as I experience events and endeavors to express and understand my sensuality and appreciation for my body. This has brought worthwhile experiences such as the clothing-optional hot springs retreat and ones that weren’t worth my time such as this stupid one, featured in my most hated yet popular post.1
Though my favoritest friend could not attend due to her own already set creative activities, I bought a ticket in February for attendance on Saturday, May 3 along with a seat for the Pan Eros Film Festival’s Short Film Showcase…. and then I waited and did life for many weeks. (And yes, I did go back and forth about going even though I paid $75 for this.)
I really try not to hype up these trips because I don’t want to give them too much sentimental, life-steering weight and then be let down. Remember—I don’t live in a big city. I have to travel at least four hours to get to the urban centers where stuff like this goes on. There’s a lot of planning that goes into my excursions. It’s not like I get to shrug my shoulders while eating brunch and ask my large group of sex positive friends, “Hey, which one do you want to go to tonight, this nude and boudoir networking event or ‘Mindfuckery for Femmes’?”
I don’t know, friends. I shouldn’t expect so much, but I expect so much!
Especially when it takes so much effort to go.
I took Friday off (The effort! A Seattleite wouldn’t have had to take PTO), so I wouldn’t feel rushed and would have a place to get ready for the festival. My Airbnb was in a condo in Belltown and close to the Sound. Such a beautiful day!
And as you know, I also have a fondness for creating my own erotic art.
(I also love these getaway weekends because I get to walk around nude, sleep nude, fix breakfast nude, and play with all of the fun amenities in a new Airbnb nude.)
Before heading to the festival on Saturday, I had lunch with a friend. He made a reservation for hand-rolled sushi down from Pike Place Market, and it definitely delivered. (Have you ever had hojicha green tea? Oh my!) We wrapped up our time over coffee a block over, and I headed back to get ready.
This is a notable time to pause. So as you know, I really didn’t want to go by myself. I even seem more confident in my white lunch outfit over my black festival one. I took my time because I didn’t want to get there too early, but I also didn’t want to wait too long because I knew I would convince myself to miss it and stay in. (The festival was open from 12p-1a that day.)
I primped, snacked, and drank water. Got myself, while wearing a loose cardigan over my bra, to the elevator where a guy asked me out for a drink. (“Can I just shoot my shot?”) So sweet, but I used being married as an excuse and thankfully didn’t wait long for my Uber.2
I arrived at the festival at 3:30 and told myself to be social but not rushed. I was determined to not fly through the exhibits and be back home, snuggled naked in bed, in a mere hour. My short film festival viewing was set for 6:30, so that forced me to chill.
I took my time and viewed the art. Check.
I chatted with a number of people and let them touch my bra and move the spikes up and down. I asked a woman to help me finish zipping up my skirt after using the bathroom. Interacted with fellow patrons? Check.
I also participated in interactive exhibits like “Fuckball,” where I got to finger a bunch of vulvar-like openings while I tried to find the “butthole.” Check.
I walked over to another interactive exhibit where a nude woman asked if I was taking her place. She and another woman allowed patrons to paint on their bodies. When she asked me this question about taking her place, I was dumbstruck.
“Well, uh, no… but that would be cool.”
I asked her if it was okay to brace my left hand on her hip while I painted a koala face on her left ass cheek. I wasn’t really focusing, and the koala looked like it had nipples for ears. I let my mind wander with images of having others paint on my naked body.
Moving along! (And double check.)
Surprisingly, I had a hard time finding art I really wanted to buy and settled with these. Check.
Maybe it was because my feet were hurting, but I knew I was done perusing. Thankfully, just as I was having a so-so conversation with someone who was… dressed like a normie (why?), it was time for the Pan Eros Short Film Fest at a neighboring building.
For about an hour and a half, our sold-out crowd watched 12 erotic(-ish) short films. It was nice to absorb these images and narratives in small chunks. Nothing was really mind-blowing to me, and there were too many older people laughing at every little quirky action or line which I found juvenile and distracting3, but I was happy for the opportunity to get away from the loud overwhelm of the main event.
When I got back, the facility really filled up. I did one more loop around, waved to the nude man with just a silicone sock over his penis, and headed out of there at 8:30. Five hours. I’m really proud of myself. Give me a medal.
While I ate my Trader Joe’s Chickpea, Kale, and Crispy Red Rice salad in the buff and snuggled in my bed, I assessed the day:
I’m thankful for events like this, but community really brings art to life.
I want to be the art.
Should viewing erotic art influence you in being erotic in your real, tangible life? With yourself? With someone else?4
I really love short film and want to regularly write more flash pieces.
I want to continue living my life in unapologetic, authentic, intimate ways.
Thinking about my lunch with my friend, I enjoy bringing challenging prompts and questions to conversations. I’ve had numerous people tell me that I’m an easy person to open up to. How can I be this person, an outlet, especially in passionate, sensual settings, while protecting my own stability and well-being? What does this look like?
The festival gave me a cozy optimism about burlesque (and live performing) and a fun professional photography opportunity possibly for this summer.
With all of that, I’m looking forward to coming back from my hiatus on here and sharing more experiences. My memoir is indefinitely going on the backburner. I have too much on my plate, and it would be best to have more feedback, possibly via a writer’s group, in the future. I may pick it up here and there, but it’s no longer a priority.
Know of any not-marketed-to-only-wealthy-people erotic/neo-tantric/sensual touch retreats or events? Wanting to dive into these sooner rather than later.
As always, thanks for reading.
Honestly, its presence on my Substack makes me want to shut this whole thing down sometimes, but I try to remind myself that it was a learning experience which is connected to understanding my desired outcome in my exploration.
I haven’t been in an Uber in some time, but my goodness, my going-to and coming-from drivers were both heavily unloading to me about their lives. (And this is a short, little-over-a-five-minute trip.) I only tipped my going-to driver because he complimented my outfit.
I, myself, sometimes love juvenile humor and being a distraction in my daily life, so maybe this was karma.
I came hard twice Friday night, the night before the event, but my orgasms were lazy after the event. We’ll blame the salad.
It's good to see a post from you again. Your blend of photos and writing is solid.
It was very well written & the photos show your natural beauty.