Vision

I recently posted a comment on Model Mayhem about the above image, as expected I got some really nasty comments including one accusing me of having misogynistic tendency. Saying I had real problems with the female anatomy she added she was sorry for me. My comments were to the effect that I didn’t want a women who was too sensuously built, it would detracted from my vision. I maintain those views, all the focus would have been the way she was physically build. The image was for an erotic show I was in, my statement was, among other things that here was the ultimate goal of all the erotic art. I wanted a female who was almost androgynous, someone who had that compact look to her, here fleshy wouldn’t work.

Which leads me to another one of my questions, why can’t we keep a civil tone to out discussions, especially on a site that’s given over to the celebration of art. I obviously chose the wrong forum for my comments, giving people more credit for intelligence than they deserve. The site does have some of the very talented models though, but in retrospect not as many as one would hope. I also commented on how everyone it seemed shaved, that to look wasn’t special anymore, it has lost its appeal. I noted that more and more models seem to agree with me because they have gone back to a more trimmed mode. Well I’ll let you imagine how that comment was taken

I myself have taken great umbrage at comments on profession of drywall made on a fellow blogger site. As I posted, I have hung my share of drywall, it’s a great way to keep food on the table and a roof over ones head. Then I reread the comments that had raised my ire and discovered that the kid was only in his early twenty’s so excuses could be made for him. But I didn’t demean him, I took exception to his comments but not to the person who made them. I know that there are those who will see this as a backhand slap at him, but age does play an important part of our perception.

Maybe I’m just getting old and set in my ways... that could be. In my own defense the older I get the more other people get set in their ways (tongue firmly in cheek). I’m proud to say I have a number of young friend who help keep me in my place and fixed in time. It helps keeps you balance in life, keeps you from feeling left out and jealous about that age... reminds you why its good to be the age you are and not having that drama in your life again. Although I keep making the same mistake over and over again, but I find new ways to make the same mistakes. That is at least some kind of progress I imagine, proof positive that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks

Crazies

Pro-English, A.C.L.J., Troops Needed on the Boarder and The Heritage Foundation... all the crazies are sending me mailing like I once got credit card application. At least with the application the was a don’t bother me page I could register on. And each of them have their own focused hatred for some special group of people, the most popular seems to be Muslims. Each group of crazies seem to have a 501-c, mailing privileges so they don’t pay squat to spew their hatred. I dutifully open each piece of shit they send, put all that shit back in their envelopes and mail it to them “postage due”.... makes me feel better at least.

Before my doctor moved her offices it was located at a medical center along with the hospital. Lots of East Indian’s work there, some wore head-scarves, some may have been Muslim as well. I didn’t know or care because I was getting the test I needed. As an added bonus I could ask where the best Eastern food was, where is the place they like to eat. I got all sorts of tips most of which I never heard of before, the India places were the best. When it comes to eating were are all one race... the human race

So imagine my utter surprise when one morning while having coffee a group of people sat down next to me, a couple of whom had head-scarves. Without even thinking about it I started checking them out looking for suspicions packages they might leave behind. Only then did I recognize the absurdity of my reactions and started laughing. These were healthcare professionals, maybe some were doctors and a few were obliviously students not bombers for heaven sake It’s a sign of the time we live in, the fear that’s generated by the media that conditions us all to think that way.

Which bring to mind Juan Williams, of his remarks that got him fired from NPR. I certainly don’t agree with the racist sentiments that regularly pass for news at FOX NEWS. But as you can see by my story above we all can make mistake in judgement. My momentary fear, my momentary lapse of judgement was a private affair, his wasn’t. So that’s the prism we all look at the world today, Muslim equals terrorist, plain and simple.... simply wrong. I feel like we target Muslims because we have been conditioned to react that way by the media. The fact that they’re so easily identified make our suspicions of them so much easier.
When Timothy Mc Veigh murdered all those people in Oklahoma we didn’t start dragging young white men with short hair off planes, we didn’t have an instinctive fear of sitting next to them at coffee shops , not cast so much as a glance in their direction. I think that we fail as human beings, we do a disservice to the whole human race by giving in to these fears. Unknowingly, without thinking about them, without questioning where our fears really reside. No one likes to think about being blown up in a building, having a plane crash into where you are innocently working. These are the acts of two or three madmen who hate the system, who hate humanity and not a whole class of people. Personally I feel that these for the most part are poor, uneducated people with no hope of a better future, no hope of a brighter tomorrow. It’s long past time that we got a handle on this idea and start working on the problems we all face.

Keep In Touch

I am the most fortunate of men, I don’t collect “friends”, but I’m really blessed that most of my models keep me in mind when their address changes. One young model, she was twenty when we shot, took great umbrage at some advice I was giving her. She no longer keeps in touch, much to her determent; if I have no way of keeping in touch I can’t let you know how the images we created are being used. I’m religious about letting my model’s know when I use an image on my blog, on various sites and for any shows I enter. My feeling is we created this work together, you are an integral part of what we did, you are entitled to know (even years later) how and where your images are being displayed.
Any advice is freely given, I’m not offended if you don’t take it to heart don’t listen it’s your life not mine, my world will not stop. I really enjoy the women who pose for me, who take the time and interest to make images with me. Some work much better with my overall vison, it seems like second nature to them. I take my time to get an idea of who this person is that I am going to photograph. Usually we have coffee, I show them my book so there are no surprises when we work. An important part of the way I work is to get to know something about them, how else can I capture the essence of that person. So many of the girls that I work with are young, twenty-something. Most still think they work/live in a vacuum, that no one will look up there photos or get an opinion of their character from the images they lend themselves to.
I on the other hand have lived a goodly long time, I no longer think I’m invincible, I know that actions beget reaction no matter how private you may think those actions are. We don’t live in a bubble of our own choosing, the internet has forced us to live a very public life. I’m very conscious of the images I am posting, I want for my model's to be able to make that choice as well even though I have a release. When I am posting to Facebook I know what’s appropriate as far as they are concerned. I have learned the hard way that for my model appropriate for one venue isn’t appropriate for them. I do not wish to embarrass them in front of their family or friends.
This blog is different, here I may show the kind of work that I do unedited, but it’s not likely that any members of my models family will see the posts. Here it’s a more private setting, my friend come here to view my work and to read what I have to say. Just as you have come here to see my work and read my words/thoughts as well. Nothing gives me more pleasure then to have someone comment on my blog, or for it to spur other thought. I love that free flow of ideas and comment that are well thought out. So please keep visiting my site and by all means, keep in touch.

The Littlle Deaths

My thanks to my friend Carla Johnson for her post on “La Petite Mort”, the Little Deaths as an orgasm is known is a subject long though to not be mentioned in polite company. I leave the final word to my friend, I want to talk about my photographic experience with the orgasm as seen above. I met this young lady at a modeling show I attended. She was very green and needed someone to invest the time with her and show her the ropes. Long story short we did at least six or seven shoots before she was comfortable enough with herself and me before we could shoot so intimately. When we started she was very nervous about what would happen. I took her through her first mini-orgasm, then she got more relaxed, I could see the tension go out of her body. Remember I shoot film and still had a third of a roll left when she told me to get ready. Whoa, whoa I told her to change your rhythm, let me finish this roll and then you can come. At this point I felt like I was a part of her orgasm, I was asking her to draw it out so I could get the shots I wanted. I’m not going to say I hurried, but I knew she was ready to get some release. I ask her to get comfortable, to change position slightly and to feel it building. Then I reloaded my camera, I said OK kiddo go for it. I could almost hear her thinking I wonder what he’s getting, then the pre-orgasm started and she was gone. I got close ups of her face, her body, all the important parts. I dragged the shutter, I was trying to get the beauty of the moment, but without the graphic details. I want to make it clear that she is a nice girl, not someone who masturbates for just anyone. After her release I got some nice shots of her coming down from the high of it. For minutes after that she’d shudder, those post-orgasm shudders. In a strange way I think that she was please that she’d be able to climax, so too there was a certain pleasure in getting off with someone watching. I’m really proud of the shots I got and the trust that grew out of that experience. I’ve marveled at the capacity that women have for wave after wave of pleasure and the small role I may play.

Several years ago I had a gig for an entertainment facility, had a pass that would let me go anywhere, anytime. I’d do the mundane shots of different parts of the facility, party’s they had. Sometimes they’d overlap so I’d do a heavy metal group. These groups actually filled the hall better than the more middle of the road types. So I just play, drag the shutter, play with my flash to ambient light ratio. It was so much fun to see what magic I could produce. Shot real film so I couldn’t see the results instantly.

Nipple

Like shadow they gather..., grackles on the wing searching, searching..., the wings flutter down. Gathering in flocks, your negative thoughts. Squawking, noisily hostile thoughts that have no real merit, no basis in fact. Your fear stand out like two cold nipples on a warm day, longingly wishing to be touch.




14 Jan 2011

Fifth Anniversary

Those of you who currently read this blog, and I’m familiar with one lovely lady out there, will know I just celebrated my fifth anniversary of my stroke. This year I won’t be writing as much about that choosing to concentrate on my art, and my writing. Like many of you last year was the worst I’ve experienced in my life-time. I don’t think I opened my camera bag once last year, sure I took some cell phone photo’s, but nothing to really satisfy my soul. In addition I closed down what business was left and for the first time in many years I filed a normal tax return. At the time it was a most painful step, logical to say the least but still....

I started working with a friend I’ve had for a long time, first started work with him in New York many years ago. We developed quite the friendship, I was invited to his house, met his wife and children, and came for all the holidays plus backyard barbeques. Long story short, he and his wife have divorced and he moved back to the Northeast. A lot of my planning involved my computer work, learning new things and just playing with the latest innovations. Another part of the equations was to find a friend who had moved on to a new business and needed a hand. Although divorce wasn’t a part of my master plan, it sure played an important part of this plan.

After he was moved out of the house he found himself broke, but with an advertising idea that looked like it could work. He had a number of high profile contacts so all that was needed was some legwork, research, and someone he could trust to share in the business. Someone who had the time to invest, had the desire to make a go of it, and who didn’t really care about the money at first. We started with one client, I took the editorial we had and made some small adjustments to it, I’d find the talent’s website’s and would make their bio information fit our needs. I proofed read everything, and I even had a hand in keeping the people who were working on the project with us stay focused.

We picked up our second account and then our third; tiny steps to be sure, but all the while we could see the economy slowly improving. So my financial health is improving, I’m making almost enough money that soon I’ll be able to shoot again. In the meantime I’m working on prints of my work. I’ve started refining a new book that features only the work I’m interested in, the kind of images I want to shoot so I can show models which direction I’m headed in and if they would like to invest their time and talent perfect. Don’t know how far I’ll get this year, baby- steps on the road to a full recovery. Along the way I’ve picked up several friend who believe as I do, who are interested in sharing the passage with me, who help fire my ideas and beliefs. Some young people who have such a zest for their art that it’s contagious. Maybe that’s all we need in life, to make it more fulfilling, sharing the spice that makes life worth living, that brings out our passions, so that we remember what it was once like to be young. This year I plan on writing about that transition, getting fire up again, and getting my butt in gear. I want to wish all you readers a wonderful new year full of the spice for life.

The Power of Can't

Five years ago last month I had a massive, nasty stroke, my right half wouldn’t respond, I couldn’t think clearly and emotionally I was devastate. I spent almost a week in ICU and when I reached the general floor I thought what now. No one believed I’d be going anywhere but to a nursing care facility for the rest of my life, if I managed to survive the next few days. I on the other hand, not being privy to the general opinion, was living my life one day at a time, never thinking for a minute that I get anything but better. Each morning and evening I told myself today I’m better than I was yesterday, stronger and more connected. Every task I attempted, very call I made where I got the persons on the other end of the line to help me was another step towards my goal even if I couldn’t see where I really was.

I never let myself use the word can’t, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t use my right side and I couldn’t think clearly yet. But never did I utter the word can’t, it’s a self-fulfilling word, though. I never thought I’d never walk, never use my right hand, never be able to type or to tie my shoes. Never touch a women, or hold her near. Never again be able to take an image I’d love, never have to think well can I. I knew I couldn’t do thing’s as I used to for now, I knew that I had a long, long road to go before I could/would do those things again. Sure I got frustrated, down for what I’d have to learn to do again. When you use the word can’t, then you give in to what’s affecting you, then in a short a time you surely can’t.

I tried to channel all the people I knew and admired, those who through no fault of their own had fallen. I remembered a friend who had a really bad accident, lost her sense of self, who she was and what she did to make up that complicated self that was so uniquely her. How she had to wear a patch over her good eye so the one that was hurt would slowly get better. Learn how to ask for help without seeming needy or somehow lesser. How I hurt for her seeing the struggles she had, what she couldn’t do and her fear that she never would again. How grateful she was to be treated as normal as I could without trying to wrap her up in bubble wrap.

Or watching as my father began that long slide into a compassionate old man instead of the son of a bitch I knew as a child. I could see the writing on the wall and was preparing for that myself. Not that I learned the compassionate part, I love the son of a bitch in me who wasn’t ready to give up yet. But at fifty seven I heard those whispery wings of old age descending upon me. I was lucky enough to be getting ready, making those step to transition to a time when I could no longer keep the pace I did. And then bang..., in the morning went I awoke I was already there in my future, unprepared and truly having to start over from square one.

Anxiety

Washed the anti-anxiety medication from my system, for two weeks one tablet every other day, then two week of a half a tablet every other day till I was clean. Now I’m emoting as me, music gets to me, a good video gets to me, the class-less neighbors get to me, and friends I care about can get to me. But at least it’s me again and not some drugged person viewing my life as it unfold around me. I’ve been on medication since my stroke happened five year ago this month. Blood pressure meds, cholesterol meds, and a sleep aid. Five pills in the morning, four pills in the evening and four more before bedtime. Now one less.

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but at least my emotion are getting to be mine regardless of the stroke. I had some real problems when out for a walk, when smells would hit me and when just being me. Sitting in a restaurant I felt like I was about to die, rapid heart rate and the shaky hands and body. I though about getting out of there, but doubted could on my own power. Thought about EMS getting me out, but too much drama and embarrassment to be worth the trouble and expense. So shut my eyes and find a happy place, breath deeply until all the noise around me sounded like a bee hive of activity. Slowly, ever so slowly my heartbeat returned to normal. From the buzzing beehive thoughts of contentment, peace at last. When I returned people looked away, but I didn’t care, I’d managed to contain myself. I was almost me, but not if you get my meaning. If you’ve ever had an anxiety attack you know exactly what I was feeling, if not count yourself lucky.

Anyway two weeks now clean and basically happy, content. Trying to write again (see enclosed) and I feel almost like normal whatever that is or was. Just go with the flow when I feel emotions coming over me. It too shall pass, just trying to feel like me again, trying to be me again. Heard from a friend from my past who told me it had taken her eight to ten years to even begin to recover from her accident. The same friend who I’d thought about in the hospital when my stroke hit. I patterned so much of my recovery around the advice I’d given her. Then I was her with my brain neatly cleaved in half, with the right side of my body not responding to commands. Now I knew just what she felt, how lost she was and how mournful of her life pre-accident. Little grain of truth and hope I’d given her, not realizing how she was beginning to learn to walk again, not realizing how she couldn’t read. Oh well, just one of life big lessons, how to get back all that you’ve lost in the tenuous state of being and not being.

What a long and tortuous way to learn the value of life.

*********************************************


A tidal wash of emotion rakes over me,
tears, rage and happiness;
all emotions in-between.
Awash in feeling long suppressed, long deigned...,
drugged into the background of me.
Years since I felt as me, reacting as me I am me but not quite.
Washed from my mooring, adrift on the sea...,
home port a distant view
with twinkling lights and the sounds of me.
Adrift through the fog listening,
still straining for the sounds of home.

The Year in Review

Well I’ve certainly come a long ways from last year, thanks to hard work and patients. In 2009 my business finally collapsed, just nothing coming in, I admitted that the life I had enjoyed was over. I hadn’t even pickup a camera in over a year and I was scrounging for any mean of support I could find. I’d have robbed banks if I was able to run fast enough to get away, and my right leg was a defiant no go. So I turned to the only weapon I could count on, my brain.

I call my friend network to find out what was available, how could I work out a spot for me. As luck would have it I found a friend who was in need of help restarting a business after a messy divorce. He was down to being a one man shop with only one client left but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. The only catch was it didn’t pay much but if I helped him to recover it might pay more. So at this point it’s still paying not too much, but I can pay my bills, I’m working on catching up on my rent and I have a couple of bucks to tide me over. We’ve got two clients for next year and a third just need to be sold on our services. So all in all I’m not doing so bad, the economy is improving slowly, but it beats being out on the street. So far I haven’t been able to afford to pick up that camera yet, but I’m hoping that next year will be better.

I’ve been encouraged enough to play around with PS, just sort of doodling and seeing what work and what doesn’t, what’s pleasing to the eye and what isn’t. I’m also playing around with some printing idea, off the wall kind of stuff. That with some shooting idea, poses I’d like to try and see which work and which don’t. Have to find a model who’s willing to play and create and is willing to do it for trade if I can sell the idea. I’m sort of back to being a starving artist concept for real this time, not that I wasn’t before, but now I mean it. Of course the best model’s are being paid for there work and most of the new ones want something for they’re time and effort. So do I really, but it just not there right now, and to get there I still need to call on some of my friends.

That’s the good thing about being well known in this business, having friends that you can call on for help and advice. I’m starting to finally make some headway on that score. I’m starting to feel better and more positive about where I am going. I feel like myself again, I can work and not at cutting yards or greeting someone at Wallmart. I’m finally getting myself back, getting my nerve back and being who I was again..., slower granted but it me again. I always liked myself, now I’m beginning to feel like myself again. Making friends and talking again off the cuff again like I always did. You never value something till you lose it.