in der zweiten ausgabe von „sofa“ geht es um digitale liebe

Die zweite Ausgabe von „SOFA“ ist da. Wir zeigen dir, was alles drin steckt.

von Alexandra Bondi de Antoni
24 April 2017, 8:20am

Sexting, Tinder, Pornhub — Lange vorbei sind die Zeiten von Liebe, die nur zwischen zwei Menschen stattgefunden hat. Tschau IRL, hallo, du weite Welt des Internets. Was wären wir ohne die digitale Erweiterung unseres analogen Verlangens, der Hingabe und Verbundenheit? Diese Frage stellt sich die neue Ausgabe unseres Lieblingsmagazins SOFA. Dieses Mal haben sich die Macherinnen, Ricarda Messner und Caia Hagel, dem Thema Cyberlove angenommen und es zusammen mit der Gastredakteurin, Natasha Lennard, auf die verschiedensten Weisen beleuchtet. So wie schon in ihrer letzten Ausgabe findet sich hier ein Potpourri aus Essays, Chatinterviews, fiktiven Geschichten und Fotostorys, die das Thema in all seiner Pracht darstellen. Hast du dich schon mal gefragt, wie du dein Webcam-Sex-Game auf das nächste Level heben kannst? Was die orgasm gap ist? Oder wie die Onlinepornoindustrie ein neues Vokabular definiert? Dann legen wir SOFA wärmstens ans Herz. Um dir noch mehr Geschmack zu machen, kannst du hier nun exklusiv bei uns The Instagram Diary von Rachel White Rabbit lesen, die auf sehr humorvolle Art übers Nacktsein auf Instagram schreibt. Viel Spaß! 

„The sadder I get the more naked I become. This is the principle ruling the ebb and flow—dress or undress—of my Instagram account. At least this was the interpretation given by my Italian boyfriend on a train trip from Milan to La Spezia. I'd just spent a grim and rainy weekend alone in Rome: without a phone. After my American boyfriend left to go back to the U.S., and I stayed to meet my Italian one, I dropped my phone in the bathtub while trying to take a selfie. I was trapped in an AirBnb in a foreign country with no contacts or way to communicate, going through major Instagram withdrawal.

"Let's play a game," I suggested when I finally met my Italian boyfriend on the train. We would look at my Instagram account on his phone, scrolling through old photos, and he would come up with a narrative about my life at the time.

We followed my selfies through a failed marriage, failed affairs, failed art projects, new fashions and new drugs, heartache, jobs in sex work, plastic surgeries. But our favorite photos were the nudes: those that have not yet disappeared, either discovered by prudish algorithms or reported by Instagram narcs. Tripping on acid, I'd get naked, abandoned by the man I left my husband for, I'd get naked, trying to seduce a female friend—naked, waking up in a hospital—immediately getting naked, photographing the stitches.

As my timeline shifted and changed so did the hues, mood, the filters of my photos. "Here she is expressing grief," said the Italian boyfriend, getting into it and constructing his own version of the story.

The possibility of images as expressions is a refreshing alternative to the ways social media is often analyzed. The question of expressions examines what Heidegger calls the Befindlichkeit, the being in a mood, the emotional coloring of a situation.

Many current interpretations of the role of Instagram's filters read them as a simple rehash in nostalgia by capital but they also aid in connoting the emotivity of that moment. The expression at the center of the image is not connected with a particular truth, or with the representation of an object, but with how we find ourselves, or better how our circumstances, our context, is affecting us, and how we value it.

We scroll through my timeline, looking for more nudes. "It's as if her nudity as a signification is to free the heart from its shackles, a shedding of signifiers," says my boyfriend, half-joking.

The analyst Marie-Hélène Brousse explains the work of the analyst as that of divesting themselves of the symbolic to remain naked, receptive, embodying the patient's object of desire. The object of desire in psychoanalysis is the object that can't be said. It can only be hinted at and gestured towards, never represented. Similarly, my nakedness on Instagram can never be complete. I can only asymptotically approach it. The sadder I become, the more naked I get, and the more the pictures disappear."

Auf SOFA UNIVERSE kannst du dir deine eigene Ausgabe holen. 


Text: Alexandra Bondi de Antoni
Fotos: SOFA 

ricarda messner