Androidism wasn’t supposed to be like this
The word androidism was specifically conceived to define sexual attraction to humanoid robots, also known by the acronym ‘ASFR’ (for alt.sex.fetish.robots, a now defunct online discussion group that first popularized the concept). Before that, however, experts already talked about agalmatophilia: that would be having sex with statues and mannequins. The practice is so ancient to be mentioned even in a 350 b.C. story about Lysippos, a Greek sculptor who was found guilty of infiltrating the temple of Samos in the nighttime to rape the statue of a goddess – not before placing a pair of tactical raw steaks between her thighs. The whole myth of Pygmalion is about becoming overly attached to a simulacrum, so much that pygmalionism and galateism (from the name of the statue in question) are more synonyms of the same fetish.
The subject resurfaced more recently in a slew of movies about guys having intense relationships with sex dolls, from the forgettable Cherry 2000 to the touching Lars and the real girl. After all, it is true that erotic dolls have become so realistic that they even broke through into mainstream culture. The fascination for unsettlingly arousing machines will probably never disappear, though. From the iconic works of Hajime Sorayama in the 1980s to this day, the clash between metal and femininity remains a sure attention-grabber.
You might have seen, in example, the heavy media coverage of the halfbaked robot pole dancers appearing at high-tech exhibitions to attract potential customers. What you had probably missed is however a whole different – and much scarier – robowhore by artist Jordan Wolfson currently strutting her stuff at the Zwirner gallery in New York.
The unnamed android is an experiment in uneasiness, helped by the very lifelike movements of its body and especially its hands. Beside its shockingly male voice, the robot features advanced facial recognition and fixes its dead-eyed gaze on whoever gets closer to it, following his or her every move. While the artist prefers not to state this explicitly, the unflinching and tireless behavior of the creature overturns our relation with strippers and sex workers in general: all of a sudden our instinctual lust for sexy movements backfires, turning us into the toys of an uncaring and actually alien being.
This could be the time for me to spew out a rant about oh-so-many subjects dear to sex bloggers. I would be profound, intellectual and probably most boring. I believe in maieutics though, so I’m leaving you with the below video, and to your own conclusions. Happy nightmares.