It’s said that art imitates life, and life imitates art, and we cheerfully repeat this idea, certain that the correlation is exhausted in itself, satisfying ourselves with the thought that it concerns what is real and arid in art and what is fictional and magical in life.

As if, in this solidary relationship, both life and art smoothed out their respective rough edges and presented themselves in perfect form, with a surface so polished and smooth that everything they do, change, and with a candid and reassuring static smile, is reflection.

But, as a surface, this impression doesn’t extend beyond the walls and display cases that, accustomed to us, we glance at without noticing the alterations that have taken place there. Worse, without even glimpsing the universes that walls and display cases conceal.

Mystery not only underlies everything; it is the constitutive foundation of life itself. Holy art is about to simulate deviation. Error and pain, blindness and screams, denial and chaos, joy and wounds. Sin. Everything else, lost in quests for enjoyment and escapism, is accidental. This accident stems from its sole and ultimate purpose; after all, sinning and stumbling share the same etymology.

Those who place perspectives, contrasts, rhymes, metrics, and all manner of symmetry on the pedestal of the sacred are mistaken, by choice, for this too, you see, is deviation.

This too, the symmetry of the Doric columns, of the contrasts carved in stone, and of the sonnets of Parnassus, are the veil of illusion. The quasi-religious ode to Vitruvius, Michelangelo… masks what they really did: they broke with their predecessors, they denied what preceded them. They sinned. And that’s why they made art, not because of their perfect proportions. It was despite them.

And it is in this sin that life and art intertwine and occasionally play at becoming one. It is the gaps we praise and the way we perfect them, but never perfection itself.

And it is also in this sin that my Fuck Tales are based, texts written by me, Scorpya.

I am a stripper, multi-instrumentalist, sexologist, and psychoanalyst with an emphasis on the psychoanalysis of paraphilias and their disorders.

Nice to meet you. You are welcome, but not too much. Enjoy, but with caution. This is my territory, and if you lose your mind, you may prefer never to find yourself again.