“At 29, I realized I don’t need men for sexual life.”

Reading this introductory confession in Oil Pressure Vibrator by Geumhyung JEONG to someone who has not watched it, what image would show up in her mind? Some might think of a feminist-like robust artist chanting slogans. Others might brush the character aside as a person who extremely hates men and get excited and funnel his/her desire expecting an unusual story. Many other reactions might follow. In any respect, the confession by the main character exudes scandalous resonance, which makes it look natural to respond in those ways. Watching JEONG’s works in person, however, these fancy imaginations will surely get betrayed. And this is the biggest feature of this show.

Taking by Surprise Audience’s Desire Off Guard

Entering the theater, a huge screen is hung over a relatively small stage. On the left side thereof, JEONG emotionlessly sits with her laptop computer on. The simple design of the stage remains unchanged till the end of the performance. Simplicity, however, is not limited there. Structure-wise, it is more than simple. Sitting almost throughout the one-hour performance, she mostly projects what is on her laptop monitor onto the screen. With those settings behind, the confession quoted at the beginning spins out of her own image projected onto the screen. Her laptop contains numerous video clips, which are projected onto it. The audience keeps silent, but heeds what she says, expecting a possible wild story. The more expectation one has, the likelier the person is to feel like watching something unexpected. The transparent and clever will against ever betraying something is the motif running through Oil Pressure Vibrator.

What is betrayed then? To proffer an answer to the question, it is necessary to verify the confession one more time. What should be noted is the lack of explanations about JEONG’s confession against the need of men. She does not tell us why and how she claims that. On stage, she refuses to answer the questions latent in the minds of the audiences.

What Michel Foucault asserts in "The History of Sexuality" is still valid. According to him, modern society we live in does not simply bans sex, but proliferates discourses on it. That mechanism operates also in Oil Pressure Vibrator. The question the audience wishes to be answered is, “How come you got to believe that your sexual life is free of male partners?” Seemingly trying to answer their desire, JEONG leaves the laptop just once throughout the performance, and lies on the floor like mimicking the masturbating moves on the screen, with her legs slightly spread apart. This scene drops away momentarily, which erotic novels would concentrate on. Returning to her desk again, JEONG keeps on narrating her story. A scandal in general sense does not exist. Ironically, the absence of a scandal churns out a silent scandal.

Allegory about Pleasure

Oil Pressure Vibrator might look like a self-confession. In fact, however, it is a short fable surrounding pleasure. Or, it may be rational to deem it an experiment concerning a difficult question of “how ''Pleasure'' can be represented without being connected to any social contexts”. Pleasure is a component subject to or classified as, morally or psychologically, our life in modern society. The role of gender as male or female is limited to being assistant in this performance. In this society, gender is a kind of tool defining pleasure as well as a mechanism of violence leading the show to a forcefully concluded discourse. The perfect human being is a hermaphrodite under the framework of the Platonic world. On the other hand, the hermaphrodite body temporarily acquired in the performance leaves an impression opposite the Platonic concept. The male body symbolized by the clumsily made white mask and the dull looking female body in black tights are depicted as apparatus for pleasure. This message is miserably clear in that performance. What is unnecessary for pleasure is not only man, but also vacuum cleaner. Audiences feel not the catharsis, but the Thanatos at the scene where an Oil Pressure Vibrator, appearing last and operated by the main character, breaks a gigantic status of a woman to pieces. The laughter comes from the literally represented Thanatos.

The scene betrays the desire for a sensational story expected by the audience. Then, what lingers in the mind after the performance is over. It may be wrong to tell for sure, but what seems most intriguing to the audience is the projected image of JEONG’s cheerful face when she finally obtains the license for the excavator. Looking at the facial expression, the concept of Freudian humor suddenly dawned in my mind. Freud defines humor as “your emotional state based on the principle of pleasure.” (“Humor”, 1927). As with numerous psychological disorders, what is faithful to principles of pleasure is usually harmful to mental health. Humor, however, does not hurt mental health. Why? Freud answers, “Humor does not relieve your feeling, but encourages you.” In other words, while reality forces agony upon the ego, humor activates some sort of narcissism, leading to a successful self-defense. From the perspective of feminism, it will probably be hard to avoid the criticism that Oil Pressure Vibrator is politically weak. Her joyful face at the moment of obtaining the license delivers a humor about a social mechanism that attempts to subjugate the individual pleasure to a bigger context. Finally, I wish Japan would have more shows like this, in which strategic humor surrounding pleasure are presented in a well-organized way.