in paris, there are lots of photo booths of the black and white, old fashioned kind. one day, i took my faux-french lady and my bottle of blood with me to do some menstrual art. first, the booth in belleville was broken.
we then went to a booth in a rather posh clothes shop/photography studio. it turned out that there was no back to this booth though and the blood would be quite evident to the hipsters girls that vacantly walked around in there.
me being very un-french, i sent anna to ask if the booth was blood-friendly. the girls did not know and asked us to leave our number instead of bloodstains on the floor. we still don’t know.
the children’s museum had a queue for its booth so it seemed somewhat inappropriate. we gave up.
later the same night, i had my bag searched by a bouncer outside a club. i decided to be upfront and declared my bottle of blood. he looked like he didn’t understand me. anna helped out. he still didn’t understand. i gestured at my crotch. he looked horrified. me and my blood did get in eventually.
the picture is from the day after, in the cinemateque. it only dropped on the floor a little bit.