Ponie Curtis's solo exhibition 'Sick for Seduction' 2025, [08:23mins] encompasses video, sound and installation. (3D rendered animation, musk sticks, pewter, pheromone perfume, bed, carpet.)
Seduction is everywhere. In the scent of morning coffee, the anticipation of a big job interview, the gleam of the latest Nike Air Maxes, or the sip of an energy drink that ‘gives you wings.’ It weaves through our romantic lives and infiltrates the consumerist, political, and social layers of our everyday.
Attraction floods our bodies with norepinephrine, the flight-or-fight hormone—our pupils dilate, our heartbeat accelerates, and we begin to develop a tunnel vision that blocks out surrounding distractions. Time distorts, sharpening our memory so we can focus in on the object of our desire.
Seduction’s euphoria thrives on possibility, drawing us into a shimmering future which it cannot guarantee. When seduced, we surrender ourselves to a vulnerable state of dependency, risking rejection, heartache, grief, and moral failure. Sick for Seduction mimics these physical and emotional intensities, constructing a world in which allure sways between enchantment and absurdity. The installation builds a visual and sensory lexicon of seduction’s artificial logic. An archetypal hotel suite, the saccharine lure of musk sticks, the subtle notes of pheromone perfume in the air—each element conspires to entrance.
At the heart of the film lies the elusive journey of a lighter, a dreamy protagonist who succumbs to the charm of a Dove bar of soap—a nod to Peitho, the Greek goddess of persuasion and seduction, often depicted alongside a dove. Inspired by Robert Greene’s ‘The Art of Seduction’ (2001), a manual on mastering this all-pervasive form of power and manipulation, the film positions itself as the subjective seducer, tirelessly, delicately, working to turn the viewer into the seduced object. Once-familiar spaces dissolve into glossy, frictionless fantasies. The personification of objects amplifies the delusional fervour of infatuation, as surfaces gleam with impossible perfection. Donna Summer’s, ‘I Feel Love’ pulses through the film, her hypnotic repetitions drawing us deeper into the fever dream of lust and longing.
But seduction, like a mirage, inevitably fractures; infiltrating our dreamy state, as sweet sensations visually and aurally pump to a point of combustion. As the lighter awakens to the wreckage of false promises, we too are confronted with the illusory nature of temptation. In the final moments, humour and absurdity expose the artifice, revealing the slippery boundary between romanticism and reality. Ponie Curtis leads us through this shimmering, intoxicating maze—reminding us that seduction is nothing if not a fleeting illusion.
