For four years I tied up "Hundreds of People" and they are all here

Time is not in the clock, and the tied people are not in the rope. They have been separated for a long time, and the rope just quietly witnessed their stories. (Photo editing: Teacher Mao)

In 2016, when the first person came to me to make an appointment for rope bondage, my official account only had more than 300 followers. When I carried my bag to the appointment, I was panting nervously from every pore in my body.

When she arrived at the house, she was so nervous that her eyes fell out of the room and stared out the window. After exchanging "hello", she didn't speak again for several minutes.

The atmosphere in the room was like stagnant water. It wasn’t until I took out the rope from my schoolbag that the stagnant water began to ripple.

She came over and said, "Wow, is this hemp rope? It feels rough and smells a bit primitive."

I was nervous and trembling a little, so I said, " Because it’s a new rope, you’re the first one to make an appointment. It will become softer after you use it more.”

She floated up from the ripples, “Really? "Is it the first one to use?" She quickly fell into the ripples again, "Then I have become someone else's whetstone."

I laughed at her, "Just think of me as writing." I just finished the draft of this book, and you are my first secret reader."

She cheered up and shook out the stagnant water, "Okay."

< p>When I tied her, she was still shaking nervously, and her red face seemed to be steaming away in the summer. I said, "Don't be nervous, just feel at ease, don't shake." She said, "It's obviously you who is here Shake."

That summer didn't end up hatching a book, but my secret readers drifted through the summer.

I have 14 commonly used ropes, 4 10-meter ropes and 10 8-meter ropes. The short ropes are very proud and I always use them first under normal circumstances; the long ropes are very humble and are used when I need them. Only then did they spiritually slip into my hands, and they have been my good partners for several years.

Photography: Teacher Cat

In 2017, a patient with depression came to make an appointment with me. She wanted to try rope bondage, but her psychiatrist happened to pay attention to me, so she let her Come and try me.

She wanted to try the feeling of being wrapped in a rope, so I used the rope to make a "hammock" for her. She lay flat on it and was tied to it, like a cloud in the low sky.

She swung in the clouds for a while, and then began to cry, like a bird shot in the hind legs by a hunter. Her body could not fall, so her tears fell instead of her. The tears first flowed onto the rope, part of which was absorbed by the hemp and turned into a dark color. Soon they were wrapped up in larger teardrops from behind and fell.

The tears were packed with salt, pain, and something I couldn’t understand, and they dissolved into the rope.

I put her down and she said sorry to me. I said it doesn't matter. She asked if she could chat with me. I said yes, if you don't mind if it gets dark too late when you go back.

She said she didn’t mind, it was always dark in her world.

Turn off the lights, light the candles, and she began to talk to me. When she spoke, her breath would blow towards the candles, so although she was motionless, she seemed to be swaying. She said that her life was so painful that if it weren't for her psychiatrist, she would have committed suicide long ago.

After listening to her talk all night, I discovered that the darkness in her world was not the darkness of night, but the darkness of hell. The candle shed many tears that night and ultimately failed to illuminate the entire room.

Later, she was going abroad, and before going abroad, she asked me to have a meal. While eating, she started crying again, and she seemed to be wiping away her tears with a napkin. She said that if she had not committed suicide abroad, she would ask me again in 2018.

But after that meeting, she never contacted me again, and she didn’t reply to any messages on WeChat.

I often think on the bright side, she just doesn’t remember her WeChat password.

I have 14 commonly used ropes. When not in use, I roll them up and pile them up. They seem to talk to each other. The one stained with tears has depression, and the one with whose perfume remains is love. Got caught in the dust.

The person who has been entangled the most with ropes is Yadi. She has been a model I have worked with since 2017, and we spent many days and nights practicing together.

When we practice together, we feel like we are writing poems. A poem should be written in four lines, rhyme and rhyme should be discussed, and an action should be repeated dozens of times. The rope was wrapped around her wrists, ankles, waist, and crotch; the burrs and skin kissed, rubbed, and burned hotly on the fire ring, like a boiling smelting.

Every time I finish practicing, I feel like I crawled out of Taishang Laojun’s alchemy furnace. The hair on his body is covered with hemp rope, which is the storm coming from the rope.

Yadi often pointed to her crotch and said, "Look, it has turned black."

It was for one action. She had to be hung up ten times a day, and her skin was It is common to be worn out, and often new wounds are added before the old wounds are healed. The rope becomes soft in the process, but her scabs become hard.

The same is true for another person. When using a rope to pull a person off the ground, one end carries the entire weight of that person, and the other end transfers that weight to your hand. You need to hold on tightly, because once you let go, his world will fall rapidly.

But the burrs of the hemp rope will tell you a life motto: It is very painful to hold onto someone's world, as painful as having 1,000 thorns pierced into your skin.

I have 14 commonly used ropes. When I open them, no matter how difficult it is, I must hold them tightly. Sweat can penetrate into the rope, and pain can be embedded in the flesh. But trust cannot sink. Into the sea.

Photography: Mu Zihuang

Since 2016, I have kidnapped hundreds of people one after another, each with their own story. During this process, the ropes accompanied me to listen and witness; from rough to soft, from raw to round.

But just as time is not in the clock, the tied people are not in the rope. They have been separated for a long time, and the rope has only quietly witnessed their stories.

Sometimes when I look at the ropes, I feel that they have remembered more things than me. For example, when I see the round rope head flattened, I remember that someone accidentally stepped on it; The ropes were curved like snakes, but I couldn't remember which naughty guy had coiled them up like this.

I often feel that I can no longer control them. I feel that if I try to possess them again, they will wither.

At the beginning of this year, "Taiwan", a brand of erotic jewelry in Shanghai, invited me to help them make an installation. Because of the epidemic, the trip finally took place a few days ago.

Originally I just wanted to make a simple installation, but after I finished it, at around 9 o'clock in the evening, I sat and rested under the dome woven with red rope, and the light shone on the thick hemp rope. Scattered from time to time, like the moon being cut into pieces and splashed in, the burrs are floating in the air. If you try to catch them with your hands, you will not be able to catch them. They will shyly escape along the airflow, but when you turn your head, they will stick to your body. Ears.

If possible, I would like to sit down with a fishing rod and see which naughty furs will be hooked and what stories are hidden in their stomachs.

Suddenly I don’t want to go out. It’s like an island under the dome. There are no residents on the island. It’s quiet. No one will force you to use your secular body to accommodate your soul.

Quietness is just right. Anything more becomes showing off, and anything less becomes nothingness. I had a feeling at that time that I was finally saying goodbye to my ropes and that they should find their home here. It’s not the kind of destination where God is invited to the big red shrine, it’s the kind of destination where tranquility merges into tranquility again.

So I told the terrace staff that I wanted to connect my own rope to this device. They said, "Huh? Do you want to connect them together? The colors are different."

Ah, it doesn't matter. I don't want to make a heavy artwork to unify various aesthetics, and then There is a sign saying "Please do not touch", and people who come to watch it are asked to ponder various metaphysical meanings, which is like undergoing a kind of exquisite and graceful torture.

I just want to see hundreds of different stories experienced by the ropes, and finally traverse between heaven and earth in a special way. It stretches across the world like a paradise. Rumors can't hurt it, gossip can't disturb it. Hundreds of stories live on the sheltered island, and there are no other residents.

Before returning to Beijing, Terrace asked me to print a sign with the name of the work on it.

Did I say there must be a name? They said it must be there, and I said let’s call it “Hundreds of People.”

They were puzzled. Wasn’t this just a person tied up? It was also a half-length dummy placed on the stage. I joked that it would be more impressive to call it this way!

Although I only have 14 commonly used ropes, more than 14 stories must have passed through my mind at that moment.

I thought about her asking me dozens of questions about whether the test appointment was reliable;

I thought about having a blood disease and listing rope bondage as an experience in the last days of her life. She;

Thought of her stuffing the free toiletries in the hotel into her bag after the reservation;

Thinking of trying the hands-free sling with her hands injured, and she was so happy She was so crazy;

Thinking of her with scoliosis;

Thinking of her standing at the end of the water bridge;

Thinking of the rope dome turning into a tree, the stories It's its root. It's like a ball of red dream, plunged into a small world of no more than a few cubic meters.

This is also my dream.

Professional tutor WeChat: xllx577PS: This device is currently free to visit. Curious friends can go and have a look. The specific address is: 201, Building 3, Moshangan Road Road, M50 Creative Park (a company called " "Terrace" store) You can search it directly using Baidu Map~

Finally, I must thank the organizer who is willing to let me make this installation: Terrace LOVEONTERRACE. If you like their stuff when you go to see the installation You can also buy~

LOVEONTERRACE is an artistic and emotional lifestyle brand from Shanghai. It cooperates with artists from all over the world to create fresh concepts and emotional life gadgets that express love, including fashion jewelry and clothing accessories. , aromatherapy diffuser, etc. The "terrace" symbolizes a romantic space where you can breathe fresh air freely. Here, you will see fresh love concepts and try avant-garde and interesting emotional lifestyles.

At the end, here is a little behind-the-scenes of the production, click to watch, you will feel extremely comfortable! If you are willing, you can go to station B and help me with three links~