By Ellen Wulfhorst
PROVIDENCE, R.I. (Reuters) - Tony Troiano grimaced as he was lifted off the
floor by giant fishhooks pierced through the skin on his shoulders.
Within minutes, he started to spin, swing his feet and declare the painful
experience "the greatest thing" ever.
"I was on Cloud Nine," the Wethersfield, Connecticut teenager said as he joined
fellow body suspension practitioners at an annual convention over the weekend.
"It was euphoric. It was spiritual. I'd do it again today if I wasn't so sore."
From tentative first-timers to the well practiced, more than a hundred
aficionados celebrated their passion for body suspension at the three-day
gathering, held in an old textile mill in Providence, Rhode Island.
To hang cost $100; just to watch cost $15 at what many say is the best such
gathering for the hundreds, if not thousands, of people they estimate practice
suspension across America.
"Ever stand up too fast and feel like you're about to pass out?" said Dave Post,
of Albany, New York explaining why he liked hanging from hooks. "It's like
you're stuck at that point."
The practice requires three-inch (7.6-cm) steel deep sea fishing hooks freshly
inserted under the skin for each suspension.
A basic "suicide" hang uses hooks in the back, a chest suspension requires hooks
in front, a knee suspension puts the body upside down, and the "Superman" pose
requires hooks along the back and upper thighs. The hooks are attached to ropes,
and pulleys slowly lift the body off the floor.
Some people spin like acrobats, some play like children on a swing and others
hang solemnly. Some giggle, some cry.
"Some people have a spiritual experience, some people just have fun and some
people don't like it and come right down," said Mike Giossi, a local mechanic
and fan of the practice.
Jess Robins, a student from Canada, hung almost motionless from hooks inserted
through the tops of her breasts. Blood poured down her belly, and her legs
trembled.
Nearby, two men played a game of tug-of-war, pulling at each other with wire
cables attached through their elbows.
"When I first got off the ground, I never felt pain like that in my life. But
afterward, I was just filled with empowerment," said Giossi. "I've never been
happier than when I came down."
SEARCH FOR INTENSITY?
Practitioners may seek the power and intensity suspension offers, said Karen
Conterio, co-author of "Bodily Harm," a book about self-mutilation. Suspension
also could be a rite of passage.
"It's a conquest of some sort. People are pushing the envelope more and more to
attain some kind of separation and identification from society, and this is one
way of doing it," she said. "Most people who probably are pretty healthy are not
going to go to that extreme."
Many practitioners say suspension is somehow therapeutic.
"Look at his face. He's so serene," said Rosemary Curtis, watching her boyfriend
swing slowly in the "Superman" pose. "We've had some really rough times this
year, and he needed this really bad."
Not everyone was convinced. Colin Vanalstine watched but was not about to try
it. "I'm afraid of needles," he said.
For such an off-beat practice, the convention is remarkably well-run, with
sanitary precautions, surgical tools and almost military efficiency in preparing
people for their suspension.
Some hang for a few minutes, others for an hour or more.
The biggest danger is cross-contamination, organizers said, due to so much open
flesh and blood. Other dangers involve people passing out or suffering seizures,
they said.
"The first couple of times, I didn't enjoy it," said Canadian Warren Hiller.
"The first time I blacked out, and one time I was convulsing. But the third time
I got better. I wasn't blacking out anymore."
It's not masochism, said Allen Falkner of Dallas, who has practiced suspension
for 13 years. "Suspension is not about pain, it's about getting past the pain."
Advocates say suspension has been practiced since ancient times in many
societies.
"It's searching for answers, trying new things," Hiller said. "You can only get
pierced and tattooed so many times."
PROVIDENCE, R.I. (Reuters) - Tony Troiano grimaced as he was lifted off the
floor by giant fishhooks pierced through the skin on his shoulders.
Within minutes, he started to spin, swing his feet and declare the painful
experience "the greatest thing" ever.
"I was on Cloud Nine," the Wethersfield, Connecticut teenager said as he joined
fellow body suspension practitioners at an annual convention over the weekend.
"It was euphoric. It was spiritual. I'd do it again today if I wasn't so sore."
From tentative first-timers to the well practiced, more than a hundred
aficionados celebrated their passion for body suspension at the three-day
gathering, held in an old textile mill in Providence, Rhode Island.
To hang cost $100; just to watch cost $15 at what many say is the best such
gathering for the hundreds, if not thousands, of people they estimate practice
suspension across America.
"Ever stand up too fast and feel like you're about to pass out?" said Dave Post,
of Albany, New York explaining why he liked hanging from hooks. "It's like
you're stuck at that point."
The practice requires three-inch (7.6-cm) steel deep sea fishing hooks freshly
inserted under the skin for each suspension.
A basic "suicide" hang uses hooks in the back, a chest suspension requires hooks
in front, a knee suspension puts the body upside down, and the "Superman" pose
requires hooks along the back and upper thighs. The hooks are attached to ropes,
and pulleys slowly lift the body off the floor.
Some people spin like acrobats, some play like children on a swing and others
hang solemnly. Some giggle, some cry.
"Some people have a spiritual experience, some people just have fun and some
people don't like it and come right down," said Mike Giossi, a local mechanic
and fan of the practice.
Jess Robins, a student from Canada, hung almost motionless from hooks inserted
through the tops of her breasts. Blood poured down her belly, and her legs
trembled.
Nearby, two men played a game of tug-of-war, pulling at each other with wire
cables attached through their elbows.
"When I first got off the ground, I never felt pain like that in my life. But
afterward, I was just filled with empowerment," said Giossi. "I've never been
happier than when I came down."
SEARCH FOR INTENSITY?
Practitioners may seek the power and intensity suspension offers, said Karen
Conterio, co-author of "Bodily Harm," a book about self-mutilation. Suspension
also could be a rite of passage.
"It's a conquest of some sort. People are pushing the envelope more and more to
attain some kind of separation and identification from society, and this is one
way of doing it," she said. "Most people who probably are pretty healthy are not
going to go to that extreme."
Many practitioners say suspension is somehow therapeutic.
"Look at his face. He's so serene," said Rosemary Curtis, watching her boyfriend
swing slowly in the "Superman" pose. "We've had some really rough times this
year, and he needed this really bad."
Not everyone was convinced. Colin Vanalstine watched but was not about to try
it. "I'm afraid of needles," he said.
For such an off-beat practice, the convention is remarkably well-run, with
sanitary precautions, surgical tools and almost military efficiency in preparing
people for their suspension.
Some hang for a few minutes, others for an hour or more.
The biggest danger is cross-contamination, organizers said, due to so much open
flesh and blood. Other dangers involve people passing out or suffering seizures,
they said.
"The first couple of times, I didn't enjoy it," said Canadian Warren Hiller.
"The first time I blacked out, and one time I was convulsing. But the third time
I got better. I wasn't blacking out anymore."
It's not masochism, said Allen Falkner of Dallas, who has practiced suspension
for 13 years. "Suspension is not about pain, it's about getting past the pain."
Advocates say suspension has been practiced since ancient times in many
societies.
"It's searching for answers, trying new things," Hiller said. "You can only get
pierced and tattooed so many times."
