Around 1 a.m. Wednesday morning, Corvallis resident Teri Orlaske dangled cross-legged from the ceiling of John Henry’s at 77 W. Broadway. Her body was suspended above the stage where bands usually perform; large metal hooks jutted into her chest, back and knees. Her eyes glazed over and bright red blood oozed in slow rivulets across tattoos and stretched skin. Two men hung beside her, one from multiple hooks in his back; the other swinging in wide upside-down arcs over a screaming crowd, held only by piercings through his knees.
Tattoos, piercings, music and surprisingly little blood swirled into an intoxicating potion, permeating High Priestess Body Piercing’s Second Annual Body Modification Celebration. The atmosphere was an exotic amalgam of adrenaline and trance-like calm. Some bystanders fainted. Others watched quietly, intently.
The celebration, intended to be simultaneously a party and a learning experience, began at 9 p.m. Tuesday and pulsated into the burgeoning hours of Wednesday morning. Guests paid $4 to see body modification performances such as multiple piercings, pulls and suspensions, along with music by The Briefs, Capgun Suicide, Whopner County Country Allstars and the Hellenbacks. The beer flowed and the hosts raffled off giveaways from tattooing and piercing shops. Guests curious about body art were invited to approach any of the several High Priestess employees hosting the party.
None of this is new for 30-year-old Orlaske. Not a High Priestess employee, but part of the “family,” she has practiced suspensions for nearly five years, performing in public for four of them. She once suspended in front of a crowd of more than 1,000 spectators at Portland’s Roseland Theatre. She said that while some participate in body modification for spiritual reasons, her motivation is purely emotional.
“After I do it, all the bad energy and all the crap is gone,” Orlaske said. “I like the release I get. I don’t feel the pain.”
A 24-year-old High Priestess employee known as Supa’ said he suspends in private for spiritual reasons, but “performing is a totally different side of it.”
“I can do just about anything I want with my body,” he said.
Supa’, who began experimenting with modification seven years ago, added that, like Orlaske, he doesn’t notice any pain during suspensions.
“I look at it as just a nerve ending in your brain,” he said. “I turn it off.”
Portland resident and Super NOVA body art studio manager Rose Noreen said the celebration’s importance extends beyond performance and shock value.
“Events like this, if people are interested, I think that it promotes responsibility in the industry,” she said. “It’s a good environment to explore those sort of interests, an easy way to be introduced.”
The “introduction” might have been jarring for some; in addition to the suspensions, people were pierced on stage — one smiling, unbleeding man was perforated through his face, chest and abdomen with metal rods. Piercers jabbed hoops into a woman’s back, criss-crossed a ribbon through the metal and tied it corset-style. Others performed a pull, tied together by ropes attached to piercings in their upper backs, gyrating to screeching music, blood smearing and ropes straining as they moved. However, the underlying theme of the evening seemed more about self-expression than gore.
“Your body is yours, and the only way to be an individual is to try things out yourself,” Supa’ said before being suspended upside-down from his knees. “Some take it to different levels. No matter how you look at it, there’s something beautiful in everything.”
See more photos for this article
Contact the Pulse editor
at [email protected].