These images were shot in June, 2010. The room was small and warm. It didn’t take much help for the flour to stick to her skin. In person, it looked as though a bakery had exploded in the room. I worked with some bakery-oriented backgrounds but didn’t like they way they fit the frame. Granite (the kind polished down for kitchen counters), mountains, and a lake worked better. Fourteen years is a long time. Looking back at these is fun.
Fun fact: that’s taco seasoning on her skin.
It didn’t come off for almost a week.
Being without my primary PC for a few days has given me the opportunity to really get to know some of the photo editing software on my Chromebook. Adobe Lightroom is workable though cumbersome, especially if an image only needs basic edits. The biggest issue is trying to select anything with this damn touchpad that’s overly sensitive. I also don’t like how it saves images tucked away in its own little folder that’s difficult to find and navigate.
The images you see on this page, though, were edited in PS Express. Dear Adobe: WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS EVEN EXIST? It doesn’t remove backgrounds or select objects as well as Lightroom. It doesn’t create layers that can be manipulated. It has no function for smoothing skin. Its “healing” tool is ridiculously inadequate. And what the fuck is anyone supposed to do with those overlays? I’m sorry, the “stickers” function is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.
Take the image above for example. This was shot in a friend’s studio and I knew when I shot it that I would have to replace the background. I was able to successfully do that back in 2021 using the full version of Photoshop. But sitting here on the Chromebook, I don’t have access to those finished images. I took a look and thought maybe I could at least get rid of the “backstage” elements on the right-hand side of the picture. Nope. I tried every method that is suggested and all I got was a fucking mess.
So, I tried this one:
This time, I was able to largely eliminate the unsightly “backstage” elements, but skin smoothing would have been a lot of help, and every time I tried the “healing” function it failed to the point of putting body parts where body parts aren’t supposed to be. I ended up adding a white bokeh overlay just to break up the monotony of a badly processed image.
Images shot on black backgrounds fared a lot better, but the inability to control layers, setting exactly how the overlay should relate to the base image, was a problem. With this one, we reduced the opacity of the smoke and then raised the contrast of the whole image, because you can’t separate the fucking layers. Layers are a basic function of Photoshop and to use the Photoshop name on this software and not include layers is one of the stupidest moves I’ve seen Adobe make.
I just… adding a lens flare is a basic Photoshop technique, but to do it correctly requires adjusting the blending qualities of the fucking layer! No one in their right mind just plops a lens flare over the top of an image and calls it a day! I spent well over an hour playing around with different adjustment settings trying to get this to look decent and what you see here is as close as I could get. It’s pathetic.
What I’d like to know is how much of the functionality is removed in order to get the software to work on the ChromeOS system. Something tells me that if I were on an AppleOS laptop the results would be considerably different.
Of course, if I were on a Windows system, I’d just use PS. The real one. This “Express” shit is a lousy substitute.
I forgot these were there, and there are still more, but 22 is enough for one post.
Yesterday was… interesting. For most of the day, the kids were busy in their rooms, either cleaning, playing games, or napping. They almost enjoy napping as much as I do. Kat picked us all up around 5:00 and took us to the park. That’s when “The Monster Under My Bed,” which is how she prefers to be known, came out for some exercise. I mean, we have a decent-sized yard, but she really needs more space to hop and run around and chase ducks. She drew her fair share of strange looks from passing people, but she behaved well and didn’t attempt to eat any of them. She stayed close to me and didn’t fuss when it was time to leave.
From the park, we went to meet the rest of Kat’s family for Tipper’s birthday dinner. Tipper likes Mexican food but wanted something different than our usual restaurant. Verde was what was chosen. None of us had been there before. It seemed like a reasonable idea. Had I realized it was in the Ironworks building, just down the sidewalk from Ruth’s Chris, I might have suggested a slightly better wardrobe for everyone and I might have snacked more so that The Monster and I wouldn’t be as hungry. Although, after seeing some of the people coming out of Ruth’s Chris, maybe it’s not as big a deal anymore.
The prices were predictably high, $150 for a tomahawk steak, $23 for three tacos. I went with an $18 combination platter and made sure to not leave any crumbs behind. The food was good, much like my experience in Mexico: a hint of spiciness at the beginning, but mostly bland and easy to eat. The burrito Kat’s mom (Bubi) had was freaking huge, but neither she nor Grandpa Larry ate much and ended up taking 98% of theirs home. They tend to be the worst food critics, constantly commenting on everything from the amount of salt to the food’s position on the plate. Everyone else devoured their food, except for 1-year-old Harper, Kat’s neice, who was more interested in playing with the clip on G’s jacket.
The only problem I had was just how incredibly loud the place was. I was seated right across from Bubi and Grandpa Larry and couldn’t hear them well enough to hold a decent conversation. Tipper carefully positioned herself between me and Kat, not really in the mood to communicate much with anyone else. For me to talk to Kat meant relaying the message through Tipper, so our end of the table largely sat their quietly waiting for the food. Ultimately, the noise got to me and I had to excuse myself from the building. Tipper promptly jumped up and joined me outside.
Before we left, they brought us back inside for the presentation of a giant piece of rainbow cake with a massive sprinkler on top. Those who can indulge in that much sugar (primarily those under 20) enjoyed the cake. Tipper finished off the last little bit of it for breakfast this morning. She and I then went back outside to wait for everyone else to finish their chatting. We watched the full moon rising, talked about how easy it was to see inside the apartments that had lights on, and how strange it must be to live in a place like that.
When everyone else came out, Tipper went and fetched “The Monster” from the car to proudly show everyone. She might have given Harper a bit of a scare, but she was already tired and clinging to her mom, so who’s to say? The Monster enjoyed hopping around the parking lot for a while before we went home.
I was hurting in every way conceivable by the time we left the parking lot. I managed to stay awake until we were home, but crashed almost immediately thereafter. I had never expected that noise would effect me quite that way. While I enjoyed getting to see everyone again (it’s been a year and a half), I would have to decline if we were eating at the same place. My body is still too weak to be out that long and under that kind of influence.
Then, the heartburn kicked in around 2:30 this morning. Fun. Thrill. I’m glad we had milk.
Temperatures dropped to 36 degrees by this morning. Both kids complained about having to wear their heavy coats again. The dogs didn’t seem to enjoy it all that much, either.
There are thoughts to make about other topics, but I think I’ll save those for later. I still have a couple more pictures of The Monster to share.
What you see below is the last picture we took as a professional photographer. I am now retired. Well, okay, officially not until midnight New Year’s Eve, but for all practical purposes, this is it. And, just as there was a story to my first professional picture, there’s a story to this one. Typing it out, though, felt bland. So, I’ve put that story on this week’s podcast on Old Man, Talking. You’ll find the whole explanation there as well as a brief discussion of what comes next.
As we’ve said a couple of times recently, thank you for your many years of support. We move on now thankful for all the friends we’ve made, the lives we’ve touched, and the beauty we’ve brought to the world. Goodbye.
Most years I’ve struggled to find anyone who wanted to shoot a holiday set, especially one that was even mildly erotic. The last holiday set we did was three years ago when I coerced family into pretending to be Santa and his elves. The sexiest holiday set, though, was shot ten years ago. That model has now moved West and recently gave birth to her second child. A lot has changed. Kids have grown. Lives move on and, hopefully, improve.
The gaps between those years, though, are telling. The greater majority of the time, I haven’t shot in December at all. People are too busy, concerned with whatever is going on in their own lives. It’s been a good time to update the website, do an annual review, and make plans for the next year. The absence of a holiday set is not something that has been egregiously noticeable. No one’s pounding on my door, anxious to get in some holiday portraits.
This year is different, though. A little over a week ago, I happened to find myself at FocusOn Studio at the same time as a group of friends and acquaintances who were all gung-ho about getting in some final shots before I put up the camera. They came with ideas in tow and we filled the evening casually moving between taking pictures and pleasant conversations. The sets weren’t excessively large, we processed five or six photos from each, just enough to capture an emotion or a brief storyline. They’re as fun and enjoyable as we all want our holidays to be.
So, here is my final holiday gift to you: five fun, erotic sets filled with holiday spirit. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. With all the sets, remember to click on a thumbnail to view the images fullscreen on your device.
Those who’ve been paying attention for several years know that Shibari, the Japanese form of body rope art, is something I’ve enjoyed shooting. My first date with Kat involved shooting a rope suspension set. Some of my best pictures have been along this theme. Being invited to shoot this particular set was an unexpected honor. The person tying normally takes his own pictures and did on this instance as well. He requested that I shoot at the same time, however, because the nature of the suspension was such that he needed to be free to act quickly should anything go wrong. There’s always a risk level to these shoots and everyone I’ve worked with has always been diligent about safety. This was no exception. The set was fun to shoot and makes a beautiful end to that part of my career.
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You should have seen the expression on her face when I showed her the rocking horse. That she’s well past the age when most people amuse themselves in such fashion was irrelevant. Her excitement was contagious and fueled this fun holiday set. Sure, the horse is only in one shot, but sometimes one little thing is all it takes to take a set from meh to marvelous. We can only hope everyone has this joyous a holiday.
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I’ve always been careful about shooting with the sets available at FocusOn because I know they appear in hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other pictures shot by other photographers and I’m reluctant to shoot something that might appear as though I’m copying someone else’s work. After we shot The Santa Suspension, though, I looked at this facade, noticed some nearby fabric, and had an idea. The concept is a bit involved, so bear with me.
In the now-classic Christmas movie Home Alone, Kevin watches and makes use of a faux movie called Angels With Filthy Souls. While the movie inside of a movie is fake, it’s based on a 1938 movie with James Cagney called Angels With Dirty Faces. Cagney plays a gangster (a frequent role for him) trying to corrupt a bunch of street kids, mostly teens and young adults.
The concept of playing off a religious theme in reference to something obviously not religious isn’t new, but as I pinned the fabric to the model’s hair, there was no denying the angelic overtones created. Perhaps, had we put her in a white or light blue gown, the images might have resembled religious iconography. We didn’t do that, though. She’s damn-near naked and the resulting juxtaposition is, in my opinion, nothing short of glorious.
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Almost from the moment it was published, How The Grinch Stole Christmas! became a holiday classic. We’ve read the book, watched the movies, and been constantly amused by the multiple iterations and representations of the green grouch who threatens to spoil the holidays for everyone in Whoville. Over the years, I’ve been amused at how seriously we take the story. Psychological analysis has been done not only on the Grinch, who some look upon with sympathy for having been bullied and outcast but also on the citizens of Whoville and their obsession with the holiday. Our attachment to the Grinch is personal.
The story in this set runs along the line of a voluptuous young woman offering our nearly-naked Grinch the simple gift of a ribbon and, by the end, maybe a little more. This is no children’s bedtime story. Think of it more as holiday cosplay with a happy ending.
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Everyone gets all hyped over the gift-giving holidays and the tales and legends of the jolly old gift-giver in the red suit. The emotion and energy employed getting us to December 25 outdo any effort on any project the rest of the year. Our entire focus is on that one day.
And what happens afterward? For many, it’s the busiest shopping day of the year and returns and exchanges are made while others try to take advantage of end-of-year inventory sales. The assumption is that Santa goes home and snuggles in bed, presumably with Mrs. Claus, and takes a long nap. But as he does, who’s minding the shop? Admittedly, there wouldn’t be a whole lot to do on the day after Christmas. A normally busy admin might tend to get a bit bored and with no one else at the North Pole working that day, she might just find creative ways to amuse herself. This is what happens when Santa forgets that very specific toy she wanted.
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There you have them, five wonderfully erotic sets for the holidays. What a fun way to close out the year! Yes, I’ll post a year-end review on Sunday, but I wanted to offer this special entry that I hope you’ll remember for years to come.
Friday night after a long week at work. It’s pouring rain and the chill in the air leaves no question to the coming winter cold. A warm bowl of soup. A hot cup of tea. You’re relaxed and cuddled up next to the person you care about. You take a deep breath and relax. Life may be far from perfect, but at this moment it’s at least comfortable and that’s saying something.
You’re neither one in the mood to go out. There’s nothing overly exciting to watch on television. Another cup of tea, a little guitar, and you both realize it’s a little warm inside. Shirts come off, blankets come out. You move close together, enjoying the feel of each other’s bodies. You’re feeling good, and you’re both in the mood for a little bit of intimate pleasure. It starts with a soft touch, and then…
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Critical facts and figures are included here
Reading is important. There’s no valid argument against it. Study after study, over 100 years worth of examination, reiterate the value not only of learning to read well but reading often. There’s no substitute for the endless advantages that come from reading. The case has been made for so long, it’s difficult to consider why everyone isn’t walking around with a book in their hands. In a way, you could. Smartphones are perfectly capable of storing and presenting ebooks that you could read anywhere it’s appropriate for you to be looking at your phone. Some ebook apps will even read it to you if you’re driving and don’t want to put it down.
Yet, somehow, too many people can’t read, and of those who can, too few bother. Adults under age 45 are barely reading at all and when they do, it’s something short. The result is not merely a level of incredible ignorance, but a severe danger to the world as a whole. People who can’t read misinterpret street signs, don’t read instructions, aren’t aware of medical information, and miss important life-saving information. The statistics are in the video so I won’t repeat them here.
So, we thought we’d offer a little encouragement. You see, it turns out that reading fiction is one of the best things you can do for your brain, and yes, erotic fiction counts. Go ahead, picture those steamy moments in your mind. Perhaps you might even recreate them with a consenting partner. As you do, you increase critical neurological skills and may even ward off some forms of dementia. The ways in which we benefit from reading are neverending.
And by all means, never miss an opportunity to read with a unicorn.
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WATCH THE VIDEO PERSPECTIVE FIRST
We like to think we know the proverb, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” but that would be incorrect. What Proverbs 13:24 says is, “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them.” What the proverb seems to advocate is a severe form of capital punishment in child-rearing. While that might have been acceptable in 3,000 B.C.E. or so, it’s the type of thing that can get child protective services called on you today. Abuse is not good discipline.
However, some people, consenting adults who understand the risks and consequences of their actions, enjoy having the rod laid to their skin. For some, it is a form of erotic pleasure from which they derive great enjoyment. Sure, Freudian therapists have a field day with all the latent dysfunctionality of such an activity, but at the end of the day, for those who are knowledgeable in the practice and delivery of erotic punishment, there’s no lasting harm, only pleasure.
And when the punishment is delivered by the right person, it can become a work of art. The video and still images are different perspectives so be sure to observe both.
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The old adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder is, to put it nicely, nonsense. First, some people wouldn’t recognize beauty if it came up and slapped them hard in the face, and most of those people deserve just such a slap. Second, beauty is not static. How it appears to us one time may not be the same as the next. I chose a fast-paced video this week because I want to emphasize just how quickly beauty moves through our lives. One moment it is there, the next it is gone.
Perhaps most important, though, is that beauty cannot be defined because it is never, ever, limited to a constant state. The natural ebb and flow of beauty mean that we can never nail down what it is or isn’t. Not only can we not trust our eyes, but we also can’t trust our emotions, our instincts, or our experiences. What we may see as beauty now may prove to be something quite different to our grandchildren. Likewise, what we find distasteful may, but future standards, be astonishing and lovely.
Ray Stevens once sang a song that was the heart of inclusivity. “Everything is beautiful, in its own way,” he sang in 1970. The song was inspiring and it made Ray Stevens a very popular and a financially prosperous individual. Ray’s right-leaning political views of the past few years have caused him to seem not-so-beautiful to a lot of people, though. Did he change, or did our view of what’s beautiful?
When I come across people I knew growing up, a lot of them say, “Wow, you’ve changed. What would your parents say?” I assume they think my parents wouldn’t approve of some of my actions and my liberal attitudes. I know my parents, though, and whether or not they approved of what I say or what I do, they would still love me. They would still find me beautiful.
Beauty, as the video says, is form. Beauty is substance. Beauty is the essence of nature and the fragrance of love wrapped in a single soul. The young woman in these pictures is beautiful. So are you.
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Where there is Joy
[a feeling of great pleasure]
There is Light
[a sensation aroused by stimulation]
Where there is Light
[stimulation visual receptors]
There is Laughter
[rhythmical contractions]
Where there is Laughter
[a response to physical or emotional stimuli]
There is Peace
[a societal concept of harmony]
Where there is Peace
[freedom from fear and violence]
There is Life
[using those energies for good]
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If you’re a parent, you’ve uttered the words. When you were a child, you heard them, perhaps more often than seemed possible. Sit still. Don’t move. Stop fidgeting. Get your feet out of the seat. Why can’t you behave? There’s a reason those orders are so difficult to fulfill.
An under-recognized study in 2016 raises the question of whether it is natural for us to sit at all, especially as much as we do. Cardiologists have been telling us for decades that we need to get up and move often to keep our hearts healthy and the reason is we humans were never meant to be sedentary. Demands that we must, from an early age, sit in uncomfortable seats for hours on end in order to learn are counterproductive. Yet, we can’t get our brains to accept what our bodies desire.
We need to move. Often.
Clothing is optional.
Click on any of the thumbnails below to view images full screen.
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Edit: Working with video on another project inspired us to come back and do this:
I don’t like horror movies, for the most part, but Alfred Hitchcock’s 1954 movie “Rear Window” has always been a favorite, even before I was a photographer. As intriguing as Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly are in the film, though, it’s the power of Cornell Woolrich’s original short story, where the reader doesn’t find out the main character’s leg is broken until the last sentence, that provides such deep suspense. Hitchcock took that story, playing on basic fears, and made us all question which of our neighbors might be a murderer.
The movie is also a reminder to be careful of where one points their camera.
Windows create interesting subjects on both sides of the glass whether they’re at the front, rear, or side of a building. Even on a cloudy day, the way the light comes through the glass, filtered by dirt, rain, and changes in the material composition, influences what we see or what we think we see. A person’s height, state of dress, or a plant behind them are potentially illusions misguided by the angle from which one is viewing. What we think we see is not always accurate.
Yet, the camera doesn’t lie, does it? Sure, digital manipulation has brought photography a long way from the grainy photos of 1954 film, but manipulation takes extra effort I’m rarely willing to indulge on the first pass. Still, in the deep shadows that allow one’s mind to alter reality, what we think we know isn’t always true. Black and white images seem so clear but at the same time allow so much to be hidden.
Can you trust what your eyes see or am I just messing with your head, giving you a reason to examine the photos more carefully? I’m not telling. Consider what the camera sees from this side of the window. Pay attention to where the light falls. This is just another Sunday morning.
As always, click any of the thumbnails below to view the images full screen. A larger device enhances the view.
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Edit: We want to encourage seeing images as works of art, something that might be framed and put on a wall. So, we’ve added this video to aid in that concept.
Women are not static figures. They are always changing, taking off the old, replacing it with the new. The circular process is never-ending and just as one might think a woman is perfect, she finds ways to still improve. She can’t be chained down, slowed down, torn down, or locked up. A woman is a perpetually developing work of art and for that we love them all, for without them there is little point to Fathers’ Day.
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Families are forever,” the saying goes. I suppose that’s right to a certain degree in that we don’t get to decide with whom we share certain aspects of our DNA. We are forever biologically connected to a specific and, perhaps thankfully, limited group of people based on the commonalities of our shared heritage. That doesn’t mean we have to like them, agree with them, or even associate with them. They are simply there. I have cousins I’ve not seen in many years and they each have children and grandchildren I’ve never met, but in the larger context of humanity, we are still, technically, family.
More important for our day-to-day existence is the family we create for ourselves. Here, we may include those of biological extraction, but it is their choice as to the desired level of participation and association. We may also include those who become family through other means such as romantic relationships and extended cohabitation. Kat’s little ones made the choice to call me Dad not through any means of coercion but because I was here to fulfill that role for them. Eight years doesn’t sound like a long time for us to have been together until I look back at the last set of pictures we took together and realize how small they seem then compared with the young people they are now.
Growth means making some adjustments. Hairstyles change to reflect personalities. Clothing changes according to personal identities. Mental health needs mean some don’t take new pictures at all for now. We’re still the same grouping of persons that we were with the previous photosets, we still identify as family, but none of us are the same. Our relationships have morphed with our needs. Just as our physical appearances have changed, so have our personalities, our habits and practices, our health, our desires, and our dreams.
What this collection of photos represents is where we are now. Or actually, where we were two and four weeks ago when the pictures were taken. Our lives have changed to such a degree that we couldn’t even manage to take everyone’s pictures on the same day. I’d have better luck getting all nine cats together for a group shot than I would the five of us. And yes, before you ask, one of us abstained from pictures for the time being. We’ll include them when they’re ready. Still, this is how families evolve. That old saying is incomplete. Families ARE forever. They’re forever in transition.
Enjoy.
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One of the things the misogyny and sexism of our culture teaches is that it’s okay to push other people around, especially women. Stop teaching your children that lesson. Stop acting out that behavior. Stop putting women in a position where they have to whip your ass before you understand that what you are doing is wrong.
After the events of this past week, I’m rather over the convoluted and never-appropriate notion that women deserve something less on any level at any time. They deserve just as much respect, just as much attention, just as much opportunity, just as much funding, and just as much credit as any male in any position, ever. We’re well past the point of it being okay to expect women to sit quietly in the passenger seat and let men do the driving.
More often than not, one doesn’t want to see a woman’s badass side. Relationships rarely survive when she gets pushed that far. Lesser creatures have died. But not only can she out maneuver, out drink, out smart, and out think you, she looks better than you while doing it. These pictures are evidence of that.
Okay, so maybe not all women go around topless or wearing a rope corset while being badass. That’s a minor point. What’s important is that you start showing some respect. Polishing her boots might be an acceptable place to start. Get to it.
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Okay, last post of the year. I traditionally give this spot to a look back and I’m not inclined to change that. Never mind that we snapped fewer frames than ever. We dropped back into the archives and still managed to come up with new material for 47 of the 52 weeks. Pretty good considering how rarely I’ve left the house.
And that’s all I’m going to say about it outside a huge THANK YOU to those who did manage to find their way in front of the camera. There were so many more I would have loved to have seen, but… Yeah, you know how that went. Next year? I’m not even going to guess. Maybe we’ll do 51 weeks of me nude. Maybe you’ll volunteer to take my place. Maybe $100 bills will fall from the sky. We’ll see.
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This is the time of year when everyone inevitably starts looking back at what has happened the past twelve months, partly to remember the good pieces, to memorialize losses, and to try and make some sense of the rest. If this were a normal year, I would be working on getting art submissions ready, updating the website, and deciding what direction I wanted to take for the next twelve months. December has always been busy trying to wrap things up while still allowing sufficient time for family and festivities.
Not this year. I don’t need to tell you what a clusterfuck this year has been. You’ve been experiencing it right along with the rest of us. All our plans went to shit. Drastic measures, some now regrettable, had to be taken. People and opportunities were lost and neither is coming back. Back in March, we were talking about, “when things return to normal,” but we now realize that isn’t going to happen. Even as a vaccine begins to roll out across the United States in the morning, even as the Electoral College meets tomorrow and (presumably) ends our four-year political nightmare, there’s no returning to the lives we once knew. “Normal” has been blown to smithereens and it remains to be seen what replaces it.
Our model for this week’s photos was also the subject of some of our first posts this year. In fact, if there were an award for the most-frequently appearing model this year, she would get it. She occurs so often partly because she shot with us late last year before everything went haywire, and then was the first person to jump back in front of the camera in September when we thought everything was going to be safe. Silly me. I saved this set of pictures for now because even though there were still five months left to the year when we shot them I knew they would be an apt end-of-the-year metaphor.
There is so much of this year I would love to see scrubbed from my mind, and with my brain working the way it is, that quite likely will eventually happen involuntarily. I don’t think I know a creative who at least once this year hasn’t questioned whether they should continue. Many have contemplated ending their lives completely. Some have succeeded. Others had their lives taken from them by a virus that could have, should have, been controlled if only we had leadership that wasn’t more concerned with their own profit and benefit.
Art shows, and subsequently art sales, were shut down after February. Those that did try to come back were less than successful. Buyers and collectors weren’t in the mood to invest, or even go out and look. This leaves creatives struggling for public grants and for those of us who work along the margins of what is publicly acceptable, applying for those rapidly-depleted funds was futile.
What may hurt most is that for all the hardships and difficulties we’ve faced here, I don’t have to look far to find those who have it worse. Friends and colleagues who were just fine a year ago now struggle daily to keep a roof over their heads, food on their table, and medicine available. Not only has a nation turned their backs on them, but many of those they trusted have also abandoned them, some to address their own concerns, others because of political differences, and still others who just couldn’t be bothered.
These images are stark. There’s no noise reduction because that would require softening edges that need to be sharp. There’s no skin treatment because we need to see things for what they are. These images are dark because light has been rare this year. Some images have visible ripple shadows from the light fixture in the shower. Sure, I could have taken those out, but again, it’s a metaphor for how things external to us, well out of our control, distorted our year, our lives, our personal photographs.
I look at these pictures and don’t see anything erotic or sexually alluring. Instead, I see hot water pounding away at tender flesh, dissolving the accumulated stains of this year. Some of those stains were perhaps self-inflicted, but most of the mud and the dirt of the past twelve months was thrown, harshly, carelessly, without any regard for humanity.
I look at these pictures and remember how incredibly hot the water was, how red the model’s skin was from that water, and the fog that filled the room by the time we were done. Taking these pictures was challenging, both technically and artistically. There were plenty of obstacles to overcome. Yet, again, none match the reality of struggling to survive this year.
You have had your own struggles. As you examine these photos perhaps you find in them your own metaphors, your own interpretations of how your life is different now than it was in January.
For all of us, may this be a time of cleansing, the moment where we repudiate all the nonsense, the hyperbole, the hurt, and the pain, and prepare ourselves to start clean in the next year. Yes, we will still have to wear masks. We will still have to avoid crowds and remain socially distant. Best estimates are that it will be this time next year before the US reaches 70% immunity and even that is a best-case scenario. Still, this time we know what we’re facing. We know the challenges. We know what we have to do.
We start clean. We move forward. Naked. Unashamed to be who and what we are.
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We all know the line from the fairy tale, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…” The most humble among us hold at least passing interest in the image we present. Mirrors exist to help us control that image. We check to see if there’s spinach in our teeth, how our hair is styled, whether our choice of clothing enhances our physical perception of ourselves. We look once, then look again, then often a third, fourth, and fifth time because, unlike that of the narcissistic queen, our mirrors do not verbally affirm that we’re looking acceptable.
In similar fashion, we look at portraits to reflect how we looked at a specific point in time. We tend to take more pictures when we’re young because we are more likely to approve of the way we look, the degree to which we perceive that our appearance is sufficiently pretty, handsome, sexy, commanding, or happy. We take fewer pictures as we age because, as the queen feared, our external image may not match how we want others to see us, or how we see ourselves.
When I first examine a set of portraits, out of habit, I look first for that “one” picture that ticks off all the boxes for what makes a good portrait. Sometimes it’s easy to find. Other times, there are several choices as to which best meets the established criteria. In every case, though, we find that it is not one image, but the whole set that is necessary to give us a meager hint into the personality of the person in the portrait. Smiling in one, casual in another, playful in a third, there are so many different aspects to a personality that one image cannot contain them all. A single image captures but a single moment. A gallery captures an experience.
Who we are goes beyond what we see in the mirror, though, or can capture in a portrait. There is depth to our being that is only known by our actions and a single action is only a doorway to understanding one’s full character. So, we process images in different ways: color, black-and-white, simple, elaborate, contemporary, or traditional. Each one shows something different about the subject, an additional layer of depth, another hint at their personality.
Yet, even if there were a way to stack them all together, the picture would still be incomplete. No matter how many times one looks in the mirror, there are still things we miss, details others catch that we cannot or will not see in ourselves. The way our smile reveals how we’re feeling. That look in our eyes that betray our fears. The way we tuck one foot behind another in case we need to leave a situation quickly. The firmly-set jaw when we’re determined to succeed. We are complex individuals and a single image never tells more than part of the story.
I fought against making all this week’s photos black-and-white. They would have looked incredible in that format. Yet, what I realized is that doing so ultimately de-emphasized who this person is, their humanity and their personality. Having shot the images on a plain white background, more than one black-and-white felt too flat. So, we went different directions, exploring different themes, creating different emotions.
This is one of the critical points of departure between photography and painting. A painter has one shot and must try in that one shot to cram not only a story but its backstory and possibly even a conclusion all into a frame of pre-defined size. As photographers, we can spread out that task, create more depth overall by doing less with each one. That’s not to say we’re always successful or that one medium excels over another. We do our best and it remains to the viewer to determine whether our work was adequate.
So, if you will, consider each of the images this week as a different facet of the same diamond. There are only ten pictures so you’re still not getting the full portrait. They are incomplete hints at person and personality, each fair and beautiful, but each different in what it shows us.
Click on any of the thumbnails below to view the image full screen. My thanks again to Greg Fleckenstein and Matt Corsaro for their assistance in the studio. Enjoy.
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More than ever, I am inclined these days to keep the identity of our models anonymous. We did such two weeks ago, are doing so today, and will continue next week. Increasingly, it is rare for us to be able to use any portion of a model’s name with a sense of safety. The vitriol spewed, the doxing, and the outright harassments we’ve seen this year is a sad reflection of a society that has lost any sense of artistic appreciation. Where we once enjoyed a widely-accepting audience, I find myself now looking for ways to limit viewing to a handful of people I know approach the material in an appropriate manner.
Everywhere I look recently, the phrase “it’s been a rough year” is batted about as though everything is going to get better come January 1, or January 20. What I’m more aware of this morning, sitting here in the dark with Smashed-Face Wheezer Kitty blocking a substantial portion of my desk, is that for far too many people, this hasn’t been a “rough year,” it’s been a continuation of a rough life. There are still children separated from their parents being kept in cages, sleeping on concrete floors, in the name of national security. There are still young black men who know every time they step out the door of their homes, they may not come back; victims of trying to live in a racist America that refuses to acknowledge that their lives matter. There are still millions of people addicted to opioids who have had trouble finding help as hospitals don’t have room for them now. There are still families tormented by continued patterns of abuse.
What has happened this year isn’t as much an anomaly as it is a culmination of not caring for anyone other than ourselves. The global pandemic has not only made us vulnerable to a deadly disease, but it has ignited our long-standing selfish, ignorant, and hateful attitudes toward anything that looks like compassion. We are not merely afraid to care about other people, we openly despise those who do. There are too many people who still look at the simple task of wearing a mask in public as a political statement rather than the reality of caring for the people around them. Nurses report instances of people still claiming the virus is a hoax as they lie dying from that virus. Millions rushed through airports this week because they simply couldn’t stand the idea of spending a holiday at home, where everyone would be safe.
How we should respond, what action is most appropriate, is a matter with which I continue to struggle. Over the past couple of months, I’ve vacillated across the spectrum but at the moment I’m taking my cue from Smashed-Face Wheezer Kitty. This little guy developed a life-threatening problem when he was still too young to wean. It took a lot of care to keep him alive and we still have to watch to make sure his sinus passages don’t become clogged. We always know where he is because his breathing is noisy. So what does he choose to do? Act like every other cat in the house. He chases pieces of fluff. He plays with his brother. He sits in my lap and nips at my hand. The status of his life always is, and to some degree always will be a bit precarious, but he goes right on living his best life.
And that’s where I’m at this morning: with all the challenges we face, we can, and should, live good lives. We can still dance. Maybe not in public, and definitely not all up on someone else, and if you’re like me, not well, but we can still dance even if we have to turn the lights off and wait until no one is looking so we don’t embarrass ourselves.
Our pictures this week are of a young woman who had never taken professional pictures. She was nervous. She didn’t know what to do and even with direction, she was still tense. Life does that to us, makes it impossible to relax. Then, we turned on the music and gave her permission to dance. That’s all it took. Fear and tension slipped out the door and we were able to get some images that didn’t look like I was holding a gun to her head. All she had to do was dance.
Take the metaphor and run with it. The pandemic isn’t going to suddenly end when the calendar switches to 2021. Life doesn’t magically get better for everyone when the occupancy of the White House changes. People, by the millions, still hurt, still need, still struggle to stay alive. I’m not sure what happens next but I do know that when things are at their worst, it’s okay to dance. For yourself. In your own way. With no criticism or condemnation from anyone, anywhere, at any time. Dance the night away.
My thanks to Greg Fleckenstein and Matt Corsaro for their assistance with this shoot, as well as to the model for being brave enough to step way outside her comfort zone and try something new.
As always, click on any of the thumbnails below to view the images full screen.
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Part of the fun of doing a photoshoot is the opportunity to wear things and behave in ways that one’s normal life doesn’t allow. Costumes, props, hair, makeup, all can make one look dramatically different from how they present themselves in their normal professions. Here, there are no limits. You set the rules for yourself. If you can put it together, we’ll take the picture. There’s no judgment coming from my side of the camera. You be whatever or whoever you wish to be.
So, in the midst of acting silly, Jane and Kat decided to flip to their tough personas. Sure, in real life they’re both sweet as molasses. Well, sort of. Never forget that Kat’s a Marine and can genuinely kick your ass if the need arises. Still, that’s not an identity she wears on the average day. Jane donned a leather jacket (with sparkly pink boots) and Kat stole my hat (because it matched her corset) and away they went.
One caveat to Jane’s pictures here. This is really a set that needs to be viewed on the largest screen possible to look good. I was pleased when I edited the images, but seeing them on my phone hurts my eyes. Please, do us both a favor and find a desktop.
With the external stresses of this past week, and the inevitable stress of the week to come, we need fun moments like this to alleviate some of the pressure. Sure, there are plenty of moments when art and photography need to be serious. This isn’t one of them.
Click on a thumbnail. View an image full screen. Enjoy.
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Carefully distanced photography isn’t always as easy as I want it to be. If I use a long lens, which allows me to keep sufficient distance between me and my subject, focusing takes longer and sometimes means missing a shot or two. If I use a shorter lens, which is necessary for certain angles, I may end up getting closer than I’d like. Finding that perfect balance remains elusive with every shoot we’ve done this fall.
No more so was that true than with this week’s set of photographs. Ashley, our model, is a friend. We’re accustomed to chatting back and forth as we shoot and proximity isn’t an issue. This shoot found us both being a lot more careful and quietly paying more attention to what the other was doing. The distance affected her choice of poses and as we focused on angles and light direction our conversation had less banter and more construction. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, mind you, but it is different.
Air temperature was a factor as well as the level of moisture. Neither of us need to be ill and running around in cool, damp air is a good way to catch something one doesn’t want. Despite waiting until afternoon to shoot, there was still a chill that kept us from being as comfortable as we would like. Copious amounts of petroleum jelly were put to use and still there were chill bumps to address in final production.
So dominant was the feeling that it was about to rain that we made it do so, in post production so it would actually show up in the photo. While I’m not big on spot color in a monochrome image, our natural production process pulled out the pink of the rain coat and I decided to run with that look. Yes, I could have stripped out all the color, but somehow the pictures feel better this way.
We’ve another set sitting in wait and we’ll show you those when the weather gets too uncooperative to shoot anything new. Ashley’s always an exciting model and spending time with a friend is an extra bonus.
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As always, click on any of the thumbnails to view the image full screen. Enjoy!
2021 In Review: The Final Year
Our last year started slow but ended with pictures to carry into 2022
This was the year that broke the proverbial camel’s back. After 37 years, we decided that the costs were too high, the effort too great, and the frustrations too often to bother continuing as a photographer. Officially, we pull the plug on New Year’s Day, but barring some exceptional occurrence, we’ve already taken the last picture. The camera is safely stowed in case I decide to pull it out again, but it’s out of the way, out of sight, and hibernating. One of my chores today is to remove the lights from the back of the car and store them out in the shed along with my tripod and reflectors. We’re done.
Sort of. As slow as this year started, the last six months have been full of activity, much more than we’ve had time to process. Much of this was intentional. I wanted to have enough new material to still enter juried shows for the next couple of years (assuming they survive). As a result, I still have several hundred unprocessed images waiting for my attention. I won’t release them as regularly as I have before, and when I do it may be a single image rather than a full set.
From a public perspective, we’re taking this website into archive mode. There will be no information about booking or hiring. We’ll re-work the portfolios and they’ll take a dominant position on the front page in video format. New material will be toward the bottom of the front page and most easily accessible through social media posts.
Can I be coaxed into shooting again? Maybe. We’ll see how it goes. If I do, it will be on a shoot-by-shoot basis. The concepts need to be original and enticing, something I’ve never shot before, and the people involved need to be exciting. And it will cost more. Just getting everything checked and out the door is going to be more of an effort, so the price is going to be higher. No, I still won’t shoot your wedding. I’ll officiate if you ask (yes, I can do that), but I won’t take pictures.
So, here’s a brief glance back at what we did this year. There’s not a lot. Jan-April was pretty slim. We didn’t post anything the entire month of May because there wasn’t anything to post. That’s largely what prompted this decision. As always, click on a thumbnail to view to collection full screen on your device. Thank you for all the years you’ve watched, encouraged, and commented. We’ll miss you.
-charles
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