![](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/64667b11b42e320285c22165/b45b98cf-ff89-418a-b215-555e34a85639/Final+Girl+Gore.Craven.Still+from+work+in+progress+edit.jpg)
What is the sonic life of a pool of water? Of light? Of blood? How does it feel when the pools whisper, scream, hemorrhage, heave? Attack. Sustain. Cut. There’s a drama to the production of sex, a choreography to the procedure. We all dance it on different scales. We remix disorder to the beat of the track on a surgical stage. Glassy sweat on skin tight latex, PVC pussy riding cold hard steel, buzzsaw synthesizer, racing pulse, throbbing light, stabbing bass, masked killer, greasy gore, body modification, gender mutilation, sex as science fiction. In the cutting room of life, what parts do we kill and what parts do we survive? Moving, plastic, doll parts. They really want you. What do you want? To see what your insides look like.