A few years ago, we were driving home and spotted a giant pink fuzzy mass by the side of the road. We pulled over and to our delight it was a big pink shag rug.  As well as this, it was relatively clean and fresh and seemingly not the soiled property of an ambiguous piss den.  In either case, we probably still would have taken it. 

Such fortuitous finds often herald the making of a new photograph and sure enough the next day we headed out for the cliffs with our prize. The rug was something straight out of Jayne Mansfields 1960’s heart shaped bathroom. It was carrying all the musky associations of screen sirens and Hollywood kitsch. We saw this sticky kind of fertility embedded into it.  It was musty and suffocating and sweet and juicy, and we decided some oversized water balloons would accompany it nicely.

Pulling into the carpark behind the Bowls Club, we went back and forth, ferrying our props and gear over the fence, down the path and onto the cliffs. We found a rock cleft and decided to make a kind of nest there out of our foraged materials and then took off our clothes to become acquainted with it. This photo, Suction was a result of that process.

-Honey Long & Prue Stent