nude photography
Whether you like someone or not is irrelevant. Everyone on the planet deserves a safe place to exist, a sufficient amount of food to eat, healthcare without prequalifications, personal dignity (respecting how they identify), and love.
You don’t get to deny them these rights. They don’t get to deny you, either. That’s the way it has to be.
IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, THAT’S JUST TOUGH. SIT THERE AND BE BITTER BUT STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY.
FOREVER.
I forgot these were there, and there are still more, but 22 is enough for one post.
One of the first things in my feed this morning was an article from CNN titled, “Baring it all: Breasts take center stage at this major exhibition” The focus is an exhibition in Florence, Italy’s Palazzo Franchetti. Why they didn’t invite me to participate, I don’t know. I definitely have enough content to fill a room or two without including any one pair more than once. I’d be offended by the exclusion if I had the energy. That’s okay, though. I’ll settle for entertaining you with re-processed images from 2013’s Rite of Spring series. And hey, there’s no admission fee this way.
I’ve been hearing sirens annoying close since 4:00 AM this morning. There are a lot of problems. I think the best solution is to stay home and stay naked.
Plenty of times, I’ve had to do a shoot with less-than-optimal resources. I’ve shot against bare concrete walls, in dim light with a single bulb, and in places where we all needed a shower afterward. I usually can make almost anything work. That doesn’t necessarily mean I like all the photos. Seven (really? seven?) years ago, we did a shoot here at the house because it was cold, wet, and rainy outside. I hung up a couple of sheets to use as a backdrop, and then, for reasons I really don’t recall, I asked the model to hang from a chin-up bar. For the few images I processed, I simply smoothed out the color of the backdrop and ran with it. The results were, in my opinion, boring.
This is where I feel AI makes a good addition to my bag of tricks. I like the model and I like the poses. She did a great job and given that she moved to Florida and had a baby, I’m pretty sure I’ll not get to work with her again. AI gives us the chance to replace the boring background with one that is at least a bit more interesting.
For comparison, here’s a RAW, unedited image from the set:
While AI gives us a lot of choices, I chose to go with fantasy-styled themes that invoke a lot of vines. This, hopefully, gives the impression that, even though you can’t see her hands, she’s hanging from something solid and not just running around with her hands in the air. Of course, that means doing a lot of post work to make sure the model and the background work together. Ugh. Nothing ever comes as easy as one might think. This certainly isn’t a one-button solution. Still, in my opinion, the images are more interesting than a plain background. Let me know if you agree.
Dreaming is something I do a lot. I sleep too much for there to not be dreams. The question is always whether I’m going to remember them. Most of the time I don’t; they’re just not that interesting. In fact, when I do remember one, it’s usually because it’s really disturbing in one way or another. That’s not the fact this time. Today’s dreams were just … odd. And, as usual, they’re not finished. I often wake up before the dream is over, as I’m sure is the case for many other people. Today, however, two totally unaffiliated dreams are still stuck in my head. Given how infrequently that happens, I thought I’d share them. Let me know in the comments below if you want to suggest ways they might have ended.
The first dream involved my late father and I. Both of us were still younger. Poppa was maybe in his late 50s, still healthy, independent, and active. He was only starting to show modest signs of slowing down. I was in my mid-20s, more muscular than I’ve ever been in real life, more confident, and more engaging. Together, we had gone to some unnamed small town in the Pacific Northwest to help with a struggling little church far removed from other churches and pretty much forgotten.
We arrived in town late on a Friday afternoon, late spring. The weather was warm enough that we didn’t need jackets, but it was far from the summers we had in Oklahoma. We were hungry so we walked into the only place open: a bar and grill that was more bar than grill. There, while we were trying to fit our mouths around sandwiches too tall for any normal-sized human, we met the chairman of the deacon body. He was a big lumberjack of a man with a room-shaking laugh and a massive beard that caught the beer that missed his mouth. We talked, sort of, as we ate. Getting any questions answered was difficult, though, as he’d stop midway through a thought to tell a raucous story or two.
When we were finished eating, he insisted that we walk with him over to the church building to meet the other deacons. Two deacons arrived shortly after we did, neither seeming to be surprised by the bigger man’s drunkenness. Three others eventually arrived, but none of them were in the mood to do anything more than socialize and tell stories about each other. They were all blue-collar men who worked with their hands. Only the mechanic owned his own business. The town only needed one mechanic anyway and most of the cars were older. The conversation was very much what one might expect from a 1970s bar, except this was the backroom of a church building and only the chairman was still drinking with the extremely large mug he’d brought with him from the bar.
Somehow, as happens in dreams, night turned into morning and one of the deacons’ wives brought in a big plate of biscuits and gravy, which was quickly devoured. She then took Poppa and me on a tour of the town while the deacons went home to nap a bit. We were not surprised that she knew everyone we met as well as the gossip about them. She was very strong in her conservative opinions and what was right or wrong about the town and I could tell that she and I were probably not going to get along.
We ended the tour at a stone gazebo in the center of town, next to the cultural museum that no one ever visited or bothered to keep up-to-date. There, we came across a group of indigenous people, mostly young women in formal regalia, with an older man taking their picture as they smiled and leaned on the railing of the gazebo. “They’re from the reservation on the other side of town,” the deacon’s wife told us. “We really don’t have anything much to do with them.”
I turned to the man taking the picture and introduced myself. He was very cordial and explained that they were taking pictures in advance of a wedding that was supposed to take place that evening. He expressed some concern that there was rain moving in off the coast that could force the wedding into a tightly cramped structure that was only large enough to hold the wedding party. I talked to Poppa and we agreed that there didn’t seem to be any reason they couldn’t use the church building if it did indeed rain. The deacon’s wife was disturbed, sure that there was a committee of some kind that needed to approve of any “strange, outside group” using the structure.
As it turned out, the rain waited until the ceremony was over, so it turned into a non-issue, but it let Poppa and I know what we were up against.
Again, one day morphed into the next. I was out exploring on my own and came across a lake divided by elevated paths that met at an empty stone building in the middle of the lake. While there, I met several indigenous young adults, two of whom had been part of the wedding party. We talked about the small town, how there were no good employment choices but they couldn’t desert the shrinking tribe. Talking turned into flirting. Someone jumped into the water, and then we all were in the water. Sex happened.
And then, damnit, I woke up.
The second dream is a little more difficult to describe because it seemed to jump around with characters appearing and disappearing. The setting is more contemporary, but not strictly because apparently I was slightly more healthy than I actually am. I may have to shorten this story, though, because I can already feel my brain beginning to melt.
The premise for this dream lies in a long-standing push on Kat’s part for me to find an additional girlfriend. The big difference here was that she was looking as well. I think an online dating app was involved, though I’m not entirely sure. We both matched with a couple of young Asian women who were friendly and intelligent online, but more reserved and quiet when we were out in public.
We were all surprised when we showed up at the same restaurant for our date, so we decided to all sit together. This was a lower-end restaurant, not quite fast food. We placed our orders at the counter and a server would bring it to us. Both of our dates ordered a fried chicken sandwich and fries. Our orders were quickly delivered but the results were disappointing. No one had any fries. The sandwiches were on five-inch sub buns. The meat was a flat, pre-frozen patty with no condiments or veggies.
I thought this was an error that needed to be rectified. I started back to the counter with the receipts and came across our server. I showed her the receipts and asked if we could at least get the fries we had ordered. She took the receipts and said she’d check with the manager.
I returned to our table and both of our dates were looking at the lame sandwiches with disgust. This was not what any of us were expecting. Instead of getting our fries, though, the manager came over the intercom, telling everyone in the restaurant that we were trying to scam them for more food than we had ordered. With everyone in the restaurant staring at us, he started repeating the claim. Our dates were quick to whip out their phone and start recording. When the manager realized that we were all four recording his tirade, he started chasing us.
We ran from the restaurant and jumped in some little electric car that I’d never seen. We backed out of the parking lot only to discover that the car would only go in reverse. Put it in drive and it just sat there. With the restaurant manager still chasing after us, I put it in reverse and we drove backward along the shoulder of a divided four-lane road. I backed into another parking lot and our friend Nan came out of nowhere to tell us that there was a better restaurant just around the corner.
I turned the car around and re-backed out of the parking lot, still going backward but at least this time going the same direction as traffic. Somehow, we made it safely down the street and I backed into yet another parking lot. This time we all got out and Kat and our dates ran into a nearby building. I thought I knew which entrance they went into, but I was wrong. I never saw any of them again.
I went into the entrance I thought was the new restaurant, but instead it was a colorful, stimulating play area for young children. I was very confused. The interior door to the play area was locked. After a short while, someone on an upper level called my name. I looked up to find a young Asian man holding a clipboard. He guided me toward an odd type of unenclosed elevator that took me to the level he was on. He asked me a couple of questions, marked something on his clipboard, and disappeared into an office. I never saw him again.
Finding a place to sit down, I watched as people moved hurriedly in and out of the offices just on the other side of a half-wall partition. They seemed to be going back and forth between managers checking to see if their “client,” which included me, qualified for something or the other. The answer was always no. After a short while, another young man, wearing a light blue lab coat, came and told me I needed to go to an office down the street. He put me in an odd chair that was part of a revolving door. The revolving door sat me into a wheelchair and pushed me down the sidewalk.
And then I woke up.
None of this makes a damn bit of sense. That’s the nature of dreams. Neither is disturbing enough to even wonder if there’s any subconscious meaning behind either of them. They’re just stories to share along with a set of unrelated pictures.
A flurry of holiday cheer as we end our last year
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.
The Santa Suspension
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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Endless Childhood
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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Angel With A Dirty Mind
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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Gifts For A Grinch
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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Santa’s Admin On December 26
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.
[tg_grid_gallery gallery_id=”18526″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
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.
Don’t lie, you at least thought about it several times.
The pandemic isn’t over. Plenty of people are still quarantined for at least a week following exposure to COVID-19. If you’re locked in with a partner or playmate, then you have sufficient distractions. You can hold a conversation, or argue over what to stream next. If you’re by yourself, though, the options are less, and if you don’t keep yourself busy that line of insanity inches closer with each passing second. Hobbies are only good as long as one has supplies. We learned last year the dangers of eating everything in sight. How does one stay busy?
You know-how. We’re not going to pretend that masturbation isn’t a regular activity regardless of what else one might be doing, but online sales of vibrators and other personal pleasure instruments have skyrocketed the past two years as we’ve looked for new and exciting ways to keep some form of pleasure in our lives. This is part of who we are, a natural expression of pleasure that begins before we’re born. There’s no reason to be shy or ashamed in admitting that.
Instead, let’s celebrate the beauty. Let’s celebrate the freedom that comes from being in control of your own body. Let’s celebrate the wonder of deriving pleasure from yourself, for yourself, without needing the complications of another person. That’s not saying that relationships aren’t nice, but being in lockdown by yourself isn’t necessarily a complete negative.
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Unwinding after a long day at work
Watch This First
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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Read what makes you happy.
First, the video
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.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”18263″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
A chaise lounge provides the perfect place to relax
The Video Version
You’ll want to view full screen with the sound on.
The end of a long day. You’re alone, no one else in the house. A little soft music, a relaxing drink, perhaps a light snack. The clothes you’ve been wearing all day weigh you down. You slip out of them, putting them in the growing pile of laundry. You have a couple of hours before anyone else is home. You stretch out on the chaise, relax, and release the stress that has plagued you all day. The important stuff will still be there later. For now, you need some time for mental healing and this is exactly what the doctor prescribed, or would have if doctors actually prescribed common-sense tactics.
As a society, we spend too little time giving our bodies a break. We don’t stop to think about how the many layers we wear contribute to the emotional weight we feel bearing down on us. We censor ourselves, our bodies, and deny ourselves the quiet, alone, naked time that we need to decompress. There are benefits not only for our mental health but physical health as well. Give your skin a chance to breathe, maybe apply some hydrating lotion while massaging your limbs.
Sure, you may want to be dressed before the kids get home, depending on your family dynamic. In-laws coming for dinner? Yeah, you don’t need the stares. But for now, this moment is yours. Take it. Drink it in. Shed all the nonsense that inevitably builds up across the day. Breathe. Close your eyes. Enjoy the music. You’ve not just earned this moment, you need it. Claim it.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”18242″ layout=”contain” columns=”2″]
We sit on the couch and watch for hours but are we entertained or merely pacified?
Almost all of us have some form of media in front of our eyes during non-working hours. Many of us find ways to use or view online media in our work as well. Some call our entire society addicted to the images and the sound that now stream for us endlessly, 24/7. There is never a point at which something is not available.
But after a long day at work, when we shed our clothes and drop onto the couch, turning on the television or scrolling on our phones, are we truly entertained? Are we finding joy in what we see and hear, or is what we consume merely a pacifier, something to keep our brains mindlessly engaged in something of no real substance until we finally drift off to sleep?
Sure, we need a break from the stress of work, but does the thing we call entertainment do its job? Are we truly entertained? The internet goes out and the streaming stops. A glitch in the phone’s software and an app suddenly closes. You can’t find the content you were watching. More stress. More negative emotion. Are we benefiting?
The images take us through that series of attempting to relax, unsatisfied with the content, changing channels, excited for a moment, then frustrated at an interruption. Finally, we turn the whole mess off, and perhaps is the best thing we do all evening.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”18054″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
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]
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17986″ layout=”contain” columns=”2″]
We were never designed to sit still
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.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17956″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
Edit: Working with video on another project inspired us to come back and do this:
The view is always exciting
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.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17931″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
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.
An artistic take on making love
Sex sells everything. As a society, we have this strange love/hate relationship with anything and everything sexual where we claim to love it but then ban it from public viewing. This is especially true of erotic art where the dominant question attached to every work is, “Is it art or is it porn?” The answer lies in both how the work is produced as well as how it is viewed.
If it were up to me, you would not be viewing these images online. I would much rather you see them as 16×20″ canvas prints hanging on a gallery wall. However, history has proven that when we provide them in such a fashion, few come to see and even few purchase. So, we’ll just keep these online for now.
You should be warned that viewing these on small devices will not produce an enjoyable experience. View these pictures on the largest screen you have available, look at them carefully, consider exactly what it is you are seeing, then allow your imagination to fill in the blanks. Only then can you appreciate what we offer to you. Click on the thumbnails below to view the image full screen.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17894″ layout=”contain” columns=”2″]
Actively avoiding realism
No big mystery here. No need for profound comment. Although, in a funny sort of way, this is almost like an artistic “Where’s Waldo?” There’s a nipple in every picture. Some are obvious, others not so much. Can you find all of them?
Click on any image below to view the set full-screen. Do it. Don’t make me cry.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17819″ layout=”contain” columns=”2″]
You can be nice for a while, but when necessary, you have show your strength
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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A disastrous year for creatives and creativity is one we should leave behind
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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Censorship Violates Human Dignity
You already know this is going to be NSFW.
Candace Ownes, the token GOP black female, wants pornography to be banned. Never mind that the Supreme Court has said it can’t be banned, only limited. Ms. Owens isn’t that bright and probably can’t even name the late Hustler publisher who damn near died fighting against censorship (Larry Flynt, for those of you under 50). Don’t worry, Cardi B. is calling her out.
Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry signed a bill potentially making it illegal for legitimate news outlets to cover instances of police brutality. The American Civil Liberties Union is already planning to file suit by the end of the week.
And in Texas, a judge finally dismissed charges against a so-called “journalist” who was allegedly “arrested, strip-searched, and jailed for filming police.” Why was he held? Because there’s no real publication behind him. He’s only a journalist on his own YouTube channel.
These are all examples of censorship. And no, they’re not even close to being at the top of the list. Consider these headlines:
The list of censorship in the media is neverending. Why? Because it’s titillating. Everyone clocks to see what’s going on, who wore what, who did what, who went where, and just how much can be seen. These so-called “news” outlets have us pretending to care about the lives of people just because their names show up in the media on occasion. Is it any of our business what they wear? No. Do we have any right to judge them for what they do? Only if it’s illegal and even then, we may want to take a step back first.
Religious fanatics have convinced us that we have to judge our fellow human in order to avoid being “sinfully influenced” by them. After all, if we see that someone else enjoys having a butt plug shoved up their ass, then you might want to give it a try as well.
And where are all these better-than-you media outlets coming from? Losers that can’t get jobs as real journalists at real news outlets. It’s rather easy, actually. I can toss up a web page or a YouTube profile, call myself a reporter, print my own press pass (because I know how), and walk around getting myself into trouble pretending to be something I’m not. If my website has the word “news” in it, then a lot of people think that I can hide behind the First Amendment and say anything about anyone that I damn well please.
Censorship has become such a large part of our lives, that many people have started referring to it simply as “editing.”
This time is past due for censorship of our lives to stop. And to make my point, please enjoy this totally 18+ NSFW 20-second video that definitely includes nudity and you shouldn’t watch if it’s illegal in your state. That’s on you.
And if you want to judge me for making a video like this, fuck you. I refuse to be censored by anyone other than myself (and I even have arguments with myself about that).
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