Art / Photography / PotD

Varying Reality

July 15, 2015

A Game Unthroned

Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake? -Justin Alcala

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]My dear mother, whom I view now as a paragon on patience, more than once rolled her eyes in despair as she muttered in my general direction, “You’re just like a goose: you wake up in a new world every morning.” I don’t know how true that is of geese, but for children under the age of ten or so reality is a variable that changes on a whim. There is nothing that is not possible and no adult can convince them otherwise. Varying reality is a given. A child’s creativity and imagination create multiple complex universes that make perfect sense to the child and totally bale adults. A new world every morning? Why not?

Politicians have a way of creating their own varying realities as well, though perhaps without as much amusement as that of a five-year-old. Politicians give words and worlds different meanings, create vocabularies the rest of us can’t hope to understand, and argue over the meaning of is. By politicians’ reasoning, charity is bad if it comes from their pocket but good if they’re receiving an act of kindness. Taxation is bad if it effects them and their campaign donors, but necessary to keep the poor engaged. Civil rights are fineto talk about until it means sharing a restroom with a gay person and his transgender spouse. Politicians rarely have any concept of reality that aligns with that of their constituents.

We can also lose reality, which is a very frightening proposition. I remember watching my granddaddy suffer through the stages of Alzheimer’s disease. I was too young to totally understand everything that was going on, but watching his world change from something sure to a unstable mix of memories was horrifying. 5.3 million people have Alzheimer’s and for them reality can change with the blink of an eye. I can hardly think of anything more nightmarish.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10 px”]By comparison, creating alternate realities in Photoshop ™ is easy. All one needs is a bit of imagination and a truck load of patience. Here, we really can begin to create the worlds we imagined as children. Elephants can be any color we want and may fit in a box we keep on a shelf if that’s how we choose to portray them. Light can come from multiple directions at the same time (which isn’t always a good thing) and laws of physics are easily suspended. For a number of very creative people, varying reality is what they do best and we delight in seeing this alternative universe.

Not that everyone is equally gifted in creating new worlds. Creating new space, finding balance and just the right amount of light and shadow requires a level of patience few have. Plug-ins offer some hope of speeding the process, but applied inappropriately or incorrectly they can result in a horrible display of mismatched elements and conflicting tonality. Today’s image took the better part of the days to create and by comparison with some is not even all that challenging.

No one lives in a prefect world and because of that our imagination is consumed with varying realities that solve our problems and make living a little more fun. Digital manipulation allows us to bring some of those realities to life, to get them out of our heads where we can deal with them. Some days is like waking up in a new world every morning. It certainly beats hours of therapy.[/one_half_last]

Photography / PotD

Varying Intensity

July 14, 2015

Varying Intensity

The time that leads to mastery is dependent on the intensity of our focus. ― Robert Greene, Mastery

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Varying intensity is how one might describe the storms that plowed their way across the midwest yesterday and last night. The first wave came and went with ferociousness, downing tree limbs and power lines and leaving lakes of water where none normally exists. I went to bed as the second wave approached, sounds of thunder still slightly in the distance. This episode wasn’t so bad, focused more to the North of us, and I was able to get some sleep. I was pleased.

Then, about 2:30 EDT, the third wave hit hard. I was awakened by a loud clap of thunder that I’m pretty sure fried our neighbor’s satellite dish. The light we keep on in the bathroom (ostensibly for the children, but more realistically so we don’t trip over cats), began to flicker. I got up and went to the living room to unplug the electronics, illuminated by lightening the entire way. Returning to bed, I listened to heavy rain mixed with the sound of sirens in the distance. I still had the power outage map up on my phone and decided to check. Sure enough, over 10,000 without power. Again.

Heavy rain came and went for the next hour. I was awake and couldn’t do anything to force myself back asleep. I suppose I could have gotten up and drank enough to do the trick, but that would be a bad solution to the problem and might start a habit I don’t need. I stayed in bed listening to the sound of the rain waxing and waning, almost as if it were playing hide-and-seek with the emergency vehicles. Varying intensity made for a very long and restless night and I cannot say that the end results were positive. Morning’s first light reveals new limbs down in the yard and tomato plants knocked over in the garden.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Varying intensity also describes the Dragan effect applied to today’s photo and, like last night’s storms, there appears to be some damage, though this time the effect is intentional. The process method is named for a Polish physicist-turned-photographer named Andrzej Dragan. In 2003 he developed this extremely intense method of processing photographs, on film at the time, that brought out the features we normally try to minimize, such as wrinkles and skin blemishes.

Applying the Dragan process is supposed to add depth of character to a high micro contrast portrait. By removing some color and shifting midtones a bit darker, we begin to see features such as pores, lines, and freckles. What’s interesting is that, in some cases, the effect can even override some of the blurring frequently used to soften and even skin tone. Varying intensity of the effect, specifically by applying it only to the person and not the surrounding background, makes the picture look more dramatic and serious. However, this dramatic shift also changes the focus and emotion of the picture. We’re no longer looking at a pretty girl in a stream, but someone who is anxious, perhaps even a bit frightened, and she seems to be in a hurry.

We most often see the Dragan effect applied to working-class men, such as coal miners and construction workers. There, the varying intensity works, makes them appear as rugged as they are. On women, though, the effect is not as popular. There’s no gloss, no glitz, no glamour. We see women in a different light and are not sure we like it. But then, maybe that was the whole point. [/one_half_last]

Beauty On The Rocks (2012)

Art / Photography / PotD

Varying Emotions

July 13, 2015

An Artful Card

It’s much easier on the emotions when one sees life as an experiment rather than a struggle for popularity.― Criss Jami, Killosophy

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]How we feel when we look at a picture, that very first split-second glance, says a lot about how we will ultimately respond to the whole image. If one perceives a picture as flirty, sexy, or possibly even obscene, we are not likely to take seriously any message it may want to convey. If that immediate reaction causes us to feel happy, curious, humorous we are more likely to investigate further and pay attention to any communication forthcoming. Our first response to a photograph is based on emotion and to the extent we can manipulate an image to vary that emotion we change who finds an image appealing.

Dealing with other people’s emotions is tricky, of course, and there’s no guarantee that people will respond how we expect. The advertising world is full of examples, almost daily, of ads where the imagery is so totally off-point that one wonders how they made it out the door. Yet, we can be sure that an entire room full of well-educated and experienced people had looked at that picture and thought it conveyed the exact emotion they wanted. We can also be sure they are surprised to find out they were wrong. Playing with other people’s emotions is necessary, but can backfire in a huge way if not well-tested.

One of the biggest mistakes I made when starting out on my own was creating a two-sided business card that was too sexy on one side. One side was a fairly standard head shot; neat, clean, and well-balanced, nothing surprising or potentially offensive. The other side, however, was a picture of a very busty young woman wearing a white fishnet dress on a white background. She was crouched so that nothing too personal was showing, but there was no question that nothing was beneath the fishnet.

Watching how people responded to that card was an important lesson. If I handed them the card with the headshot side up, their response was generally positive until they saw the second side, at which point many cards were returned to me. Not only did they not like the picture, people didn’t want the card in their possession. If I handed them the card with the sexy side up, something I was careful about doing, more people actually kept the card but were still careful about letting others see it.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Perhaps the most telling response came the night I happen to come across a very popular professional baseball player. Social aspects of the gathering put us in conversation together and eventually, after exhausting how wonderful a season he had just finished, he asked what I did for a living. I handed him my card, headshot side up, and he started to put it in his jacket pocket without looking at the other side. However, his wife caught a glimpse of the other side from across the room and immediately came rushing over to investigate.

Upon looking at the card she apologized for her reaction. “I’m sorry, I thought you were giving him tickets to a strip club,” she explained.

There were dozens of variations I could have applied to that card that would have changed the immediate emotion while still keeping the basic aspect of the image in tact but I went with what appealed to me rather than what experience told me would work. Not paying attention to the emotional content of an image as small as a business card caused a lot more trouble than I had anticipated.

Changes to today’s image weren’t many and didn’t take long, but totally change the emotional impact of the picture. The original (below) is flat, the colors dull, contrast is too soft, and the gradient between highlights and shadows is too flat. One’s first impression of that picture is likely to be somewhere in the range of dismissive. A few changes make the colors more intense, the highlights and shadows more extreme, and looks more artistic rather than borderline pornographic. Toss in the name of a salon, and the image becomes appealing to the salon’s primary audience. Emotional content has changed.

Varying emotions are easy to manipulate in a photograph. Getting it correct, however, isn’t always quite so simple. My best advice is to proceed with caution and never rely solely upon your own opinion. Test, re-test, and then test some more. Even then, be ready for surprises.[/one_half_last]

A Private Moment (2012)

Art / Behind The Scenes / Photography / PotD

Variations On A Theme

July 12, 2015

Low Contrast Colorization

It can be a trap of the photographer to think that his or her best pictures were the ones that were hardest to get. – Timothy Allen

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]If one wants to start an argument among photographers, bring up the topic of Photoshop®™ and what amount of post-processing is appropriate. We don’t agree. We never have agreed. Even before the desktop computer put a professional tool in the hands of amateurs, we didn’t agree. Debates about processing and photo manipulation methods are as old as photography itself and at no point has there been a consensus as to what is best or when one has gone too far. As a result, one can, and often does, see pictures in magazines and other publications that don’t appeal to their aesthetic taste. When we do, we often complain.

I want to spend this week looking at variations in photo manipulation. We are starting today with a very simple low contrast colorization. By the end of the week, however, we will totally transform the images into something completely different. With each one, I will place the original, untouched photo at the end of the post for comparison. This will, hopefully, give one a sense of just how dramatic a simple change can be and how extreme we can manipulate an image when necessary. Half of these variations were possible with film though they were perhaps a bit more difficult. Others, though, are only possible with digital tools and a great deal of patience.

Anytime we embark upon a project like this we get challenges and questions regarding our methods and motives. Let me go ahead and address those now so that we can keep the answers in mind the rest of the week.

Always the first question is why we manipulate images at all. The full answer is a couple of hours long, but the short answer is this: because we want to do more than what the camera can capture. Cameras themselves, even the fanciest modern boxes, are mere tools and as such they have limits. The extent of manipulation is a different issue.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]”I like the original better,” is a comment we often hear, usually from people who are not photographers or otherwise employed in a creative capacity. I understand the sentiment, though, because variations that merely attempt to cover up bad photography rarely succeed. We want to start with a strong, well-photographed image or else the end result is probably going to suck.

Why we choose a specific form of manipulation to go with a specific photograph generally falls into two categories: to change the emotional tone of the image, or to fit a specific artistic vision. Commercial and editorial images more often require changes in emotional tone to go along with a specific message. A photo may be too bright for a serious message or not quite enough for a lighter concept. Those are usually more simple edits (though not always). Matching a specific artistic vision is where variations tend to get tricky and complicated, especially if the concept didn’t originate with the photographer or person doing the manipulation. Endless possibilities often mean an endless debate over minute details.

Yes, there are enough variations to make anything possible. That does not mean the end result will be believable or appropriate and in matters of parody it is sometimes best to not make the end result too believable. Not everyone has the ability to distinguish real from fake and a narwhal horn too carefully attached to a horse could have some folks out looking for a unicorn.

I look at photo manipulation the same way I look at musical variations on a theme: start with a strong melody or image, even one that’s familiar, and explore. See what can be done, plum the depths of different emotional ranges, and test your own skill. There’s no “higher purpose” in what we’re presenting this week. Let’s indulge in the pleasure of variations.[/one_half_last]

A Lovely Necklace (2011)

Fashion / PotD

Commando

July 11, 2015

The Taste of Nothing (2010)

My mom was sarcastic about men. She would tell me Adam was the rough draft and Eve was the final product. She was a feminist minister, an earth mom who wore a bra only on Sundays. —Daphne Zuniga

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]We end this week of lingerie-inspired posts with – nothing. For all the wonderful lace and silk and satin things there are for a woman to wear under her clothing, there are still a number of women who don’t want anything at all between them and their clothes. They prefer to go commando, as it were. Some like the feel of the fabric against their skin. Some don’t like the restriction of a bra or the bunching of panties. Some just don’t like to be bothered. Whatever the reason, we couldn’t end our discussion of what’s underneath clothing without admitting that sometimes there’s nothing there at all, and sometimes that’s wonderful.

Sometimes, however, the result is less wonderful and more curiously interesting. There is a humorous saying, “Go without a bra and pull the wrinkles from your feet.” Certainly, there is a point at which mother nature’s blessings give way to the reality of gravity and what was once sexy and attractive becomes more of a comic about old age.

I strongly remember a high school history teacher who had already put in 40 years of service by the time I was in her class. She was a striking woman, over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and a sharp wit that could cut the most caustic teen sarcasm. In her youth, she had been quite a beauty and even a bit of an exhibitionist for her time. The pictures she showed were tame compared to contemporary styles but one had cost her a teaching job when she was fresh out of college. Over the years, she had kept that “don’t care” attitude and even as she was nearing retirement she would show up at school at least once a week not wearing a bra. One would have needed to be blind to not notice. Her large, once proud breasts sagged to her waist. No need to hide the laughter, though. She made the jokes herself and loved the horrified reaction of teenage girls.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Humor aside, there are times when not wearing underwear really does make sense, especially during the summer. Restrictive clothing and heat result in moisture that just sits against the skin, which is rarely a good thing. Moisture under bras, especially those with built-in support, can result in rashes that may then rub raw and result in infection. Those skinny jeans you like so much? On hot summer days they cause perspiration that, when trapped by underwear, leads to yeast infections and other not-so-nice hygiene problems. The solution for those situations is to, a: wear loose-fitting clothing, especially skirts, and b: go commando. Your body appreciates the extra air and freedom to move.

Going commando also has its sexy side as well. The natural shape of the breast becomes more evident outside a bra. Over the past few years, exposure of side-boob has become a “thing” that has its own groups on tumblr and reddit. The sight of a woman’s nude silhouette beneath a dress of light fabric has always been enticing. Then, there’s also the fact that a large number of contemporary designs are such that wearing anything under them is either practically impossible or would be a horrifying distraction to the look, especially within the realm of evening wear. Our exhibitionist society often delights in seeing just how close to nude one can get without being arrested. Does Rhianna even own underwear?

Lingerie is wonderful and our all-to-brief look at it this week has been fun. While styles inevitably change and women’s preference shift, what women wear under their clothes is something we will always find exciting, interesting, and alluring.

Even when what they’re wearing is nothing at all.[/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

Beauty Is

July 10, 2015

Dangerous Fruit (2010)

Be pretty if you can, be witty if you must, but be gracious if it kills you. –Else DeWolfe

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There once was a generation of women for whom beauty was an everyday fact of life. There was no “Casual Friday,” or lazy Saturdays where they skipped putting on makeup or just wore whatever they picked up off the floor. For women of this generation, beauty was not a social requirement as much as it was something they expected of themselves, even when others didn’t. What they wore, how they looked, how they spoke, and how they interacted was a matter of personal pride and nothing short of pure graciousness and perfection would do. They wouldn’t have gone downstairs in their pajamas, much less to the store.

I most distinctly remember a woman from this generation named Rose. Rose was already past standard retirement age by the time I met her. She and her husband had raised three boys and ran a small business in a small town in Oklahoma that wouldn’t have cared all that much had Rose taken her appearance a little less seriously. Stuck in the Northeastern corner of the state in a town that was perpetually dusty, Rose’s beauty stood out. Certainly, by the time I met her, she had more than earned the right to take a few days off from her routine on occasion, but to my knowledge she never did. She didn’t want to. Her appearance was important to her and that’s what mattered.

On one occasion, the purpose of which I don’t remember, I spent the night with Rose and her husband, a jovial man everyone referred to as Bus. They lived above their business in a house that was large and old and creaky. I was 12 years old and very apprehensive as to whether this old house might be haunted, so sleep wasn’t something that readily availed itself. Quite early in the morning, well before any reasonable person should be awake, I heard a noise down the hall. Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed down the broad corridor fully expecting to encounter something frightening. Instead, what I saw was Rose in her dressing room.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Being 12, there was much of what I saw that I didn’t understand at the time. Only much later did I realize what I had seen. Rose was already wearing a foundation that included a very large bra, an underbust corset, very high waisted briefs to which garter straps were attached, and stockings. To the side sat a full-length slip and the dress she would wear for the day. Her hair was in curlers and on the table in front of her was a collection of makeup and beauty products larger than I had ever seen outside a department store. I watched for several minutes, awestruck, as she went through her routine. Only when she moved to put on her slip and dress did I ease back to my room.

As an adult, I can appreciate everything Rose went through in an attempt to defy aging, and there’s no question her efforts paid off. There hung in her hallway pictures of her and Bus when they were younger. By today’s standards, Rose should have been a model; she was tall, shapely, and extremely attractive. Had she lived somewhere other than Oklahoma, she might have been a movie star. Instead, both she and Bus served during World War II and both were highly decorated. Where she was, the circumstances under which they lived and worked, didn’t matter. Rose made the same effort, went through the same routine, every day.

It is rare today to find anyone who takes beauty as seriously as did Rose. When I do encounter someone wearing an underbust and garters, it tends to be more as a costume than for function. I don’t think women today feel they have the time or the energy to devote to such a regimen, yet no one worked any harder than Rose did. Such beauty and graciousness is a choice.

Rose died when I was 19. She was 84. She never looked a day over 50 and she was never without a smile and a kind word. Beauty is worth the effort. [/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

All About The Booty

July 9, 2015

Painted Angels (2010)

“The bottom of a cup of coffee is not as good as the bottom of her body—which is actually in the middle of her body.” ― Jarod Kintz, I love Blue Ribbon Coffee

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Boy shorts.
Briefs.
French cut.
Hipsters.
Bikini.
Thong.
G-string.

Covering women’s posteriors is a style of fashion all its own. In contemporary society, no part of the female anatomy is more celebrated than is the gluteus maximus and the underwear chosen often has a specific purpose and, perhaps, even a non-verbal message. When it comes to what sits between them and their jeans, women are often quite picky. Sure, there are certain stages in life where one might only be concerned with which pair is clean as they stumble out of bed, but for the majority choosing underwear is a matter of both comfort and practicality. Sensual qualities may be a secondary consideration, but no one wants a pair of underwear that doesn’t fit well and results in chaffing, no matter how good it might look.

For men in a relationship, the matter of women’s underwear is dangerous and threatening territory. One day she’s wearing a thong, which he finds attractive and sexy. The next day she’s wearing briefs, aka granny panties, and he’s confused why she would choose a look so much more conservative and decidedly not sexy. When she wears something french cut and lacy, he may find them more challenging to remove during a moment of passion. And if he goes shopping with her for new underwear, the inevitable question of, “do these make my butt look big,” looms like a guillotine above his head.

Yes, not every woman bothers with underwear. We get that. But most do and for many what they wear down there may be a more significant matter than what they wear over it.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]From a position of pure practicality, each style has it’s purpose. Boy shorts, for example, minimize panty lines when one is wearing a style that hugs one’s rear end. “That time of the month” is when many women choose briefs, though they also work with high-waisted pants and sometimes even come with some form of tummy control. The high cut of French cut panties works well with skirts and dresses that have slits up to there. Bikinis are always popular because they work with just about anything, though the elastic sometimes shows depending on the style. Low-rise jeans have made hipsters more popular as they provide the comfort of boy shorts without being visible. Thongs work for the tightest of clothing and G-strings are something one wears when one has to wear something but doesn’t really want anything.

As with any fashion style, variations abound and the type of fabric and finishing can play as much into the comfort and sexiness of any given piece. Not every style works on every body and figuring out what’s best changes as one ages. Life experience, childbirth, heredity, and even some medications can dramatically affect the shape and size of hips and surrounding muscles. There are times when no amount of diet and exercise can remove what an over-active thyroid has delivered. Lycra and similar fabrics work great for those who are athletic and active, but cotton breathes better and helps avoid certain infections. Every woman knows that there’s not just one type and one style that works for them.

One thing for certain, though, is that no matter what a woman is wearing on her bottom, people are going to always look on with admiration at a well-ensconced posterior. The Western world especially is so fascinated with booty that we sing about them. Song titles ranging from Queen’s “Fat-bottomed Girl” to Sir Mix-a-lot’s infamous “Baby’s Got Back,” and even Megan Trainer’s catchy “All About That Bass,” among dozens of others. With all that attention on their back sides, it’s no wonder that what women choose to wear there is a rather important matter.[/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

A Shape That’s Unforgettable

July 8, 2015

Corsetted (2011). Model: Carrie Pennington

A girl should be two things: sexy and fabulous. –Coco Chanel

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Society seems to have always been obsessed with the shape of women’s bodies and women have always been looking for ways to alter their body shape to meet whatever the current fashions might dictate. Pretty much every body type imaginable has been “in” at one point in history or another. Never mind what might be natural or healthy, manipulating body proportions has been a consistent issue for women forever, presumably even dating back to the earliest cave dwellers. The ability to find a mate once depended on how a woman’s shape for her child-producing potential. If the woman didn’t meet that current standard, she could well be left out of the clan and would have to forage for herself. Women’s body issues go all the way back.

No one is exactly sure when women started undergarments designed to alter their shape, but there certainly have been many over the years. Petticoats and hoop skirts both created the illusion of broader hips while, presumably, protecting a woman’s purity. Precursors to the bra actually pushed down a woman’s breast to keep them from appearing too large. Most have, thankfully, gone so far out of style that they are now nothing more than museum pieces. Yet, at least since the 16th century, one piece has adapted and endured to become a cherished piece of a woman’s lingerie collection: the corset.

While there’s no documentation as to when corsets were first used, we do know that some of the earliest versions bordered on cruelty. The ribs were made of iron and pulled impossibly tight. Some speculation exists that they might have originally been meant as an orthopedic device, which makes a little sense despite the fact they were probably not very effective. By the mid-16th century, corsets, which were then known as stays, were more decorative and worn as external pieces over the bodice of a dress, but by a century later they were demoted strictly to underwear, beneath the bodice or other clothing.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Corsets softened considerably and became much more kind during the 18th century, though pulling one tight could be both comical to watch and deadly to experience. By the early 20th century, they were all but forgotten until photographer Horst P. Horst took the iconic photo of a woman in a corset that is the inspiration for today’s photo. That photograph brought new attention to the corset as a fashion piece with a number of variations being developed that were less restrictive to the abdomen and more supportive of the breasts.

Popularity waxed and waned over the mid-century decades, but then designer Jean-Paul Gaultier brought the corset back as an external garment in the 80s and they’ve not gone away since. Every season someone tries a slightly different variation, working them into styles from evening wear to casual streetwear. Look around and one can find a corset, or corset-type garment, for just about any occasion. They have almost become a standard part of a woman’s wardrobe and look sexy and alluring on many different body types, which give them a universal popularity.

We see a lot being said today about body shaming and its detrimental effects. While there is unquestionable validity to the movement, what ultimately matters is how a woman feels about herself. Corsets are attractive and for some women help them to feel more sexy and confident. While no one should ever feel forced to wear anything or feel obligated to look a certain way, one needs to feel good about themselves and corsets help do that. Whether over, under, or as the only garment, corsets produce a shape that is as unforgettable as the person wearing it.[/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

Sexy Even By Day

July 7, 2015

Sex appeal is 50% what you’ve got and 50% what people think you’ve got. –Sophia Loren

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]”Those aren’t supposed to move around that much!”

Having breasts can be a problem when one is active. Not all breasts, I suppose. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a woman with smaller breasts complain that they move around too much. But for anyone with breasts larger than a full B cup, support is not only a matter of comfort, it can seriously affect one’s health and performance. As a result, sports bras were developed with the specific goal of holding everything in place while one is exercising or engaged in sport.

As with most garments in the world of lingerie, those that actually work the best are often the most boring. Women are not huge fans of boring, though, and it didn’t take long at all before there were sports bras that look more like lycra crop tops than anything that might offer genuine support. Walk into many gyms today and one is likely to observe an array of sportswear that desperately tries to strike a balance between providing reasonable amounts of support and reasonable amounts of sexiness. Some are more successful than others. Some totally fail.

Several times in recent years I’ve heard conversations and seen articles decrying how this sport or that sport has been over-sexualized. I’ve even had pictures used for those articles (too bad the editors of the magazine didn’t know how to spell). Not everyone is happy to see women being sexy while they are running, boating, hiking, climbing, biking, rappelling, lifting weights or playing beach volleyball. Some professional sports franchises, such as the WNBA, actually go out of their way to make sure uniforms are the furthest thing from sexy possible. With voluminous shorts that go below the knees and tops big enough to house a family of four, women’s basketball uniforms more closely resemble the swimwear of the late 19th century.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Real sex appeal isn’t something that is defined by what one wears, of course. Attitude is as much a factor as anything and there’s no garment in the world sexy enough to overcome a rotten outlook that finds fault with everything and everyone. If women’s sports have become more enticing to watch, chances are it is because the women playing them are exciting. The recent women’s world cup championship is a good example. As Team USA made their way through the qualifying rounds, interest grew in a team and a sport that few people recognized as existing. By the time the final match came against Japan, the game drew more viewers than the all-star games from men’s sports such as baseball and basketball. The women’s uniforms aren’t especially enticing, but many would say thewomen’s Team USA is the sexiest on any field.

As much as anything, what one wears when working out or participating in sports follows the same rational as any other piece of clothing: does it work for the activity without getting in the way, and does it feel good wearing it? For some, that may mean an old t-shirt and baggy sweat pants. No big deal. Others lean toward what’s practical: is everything staying where is supposed to be. And some will go for the skin-tight lycra in bright colors that flaunt their presumed assets. What one wears probably says more about their general personality than any kind of a sexual statement. Are some pushing the envelope of appropriateness? Sure, and I have no problem with the argument that such boundaries need to be pushed; if men can remove their shirts, shouldn’t that rule apply to women as well? But being sexy is so much more.

The days of a woman confining her sexuality to the bedroom are, thankfully, long gone. Women want to feel sexy and be sexy all day and that includes when they’re working out or participating in sports. So we shouldn’t be surprised when the same lingerie-driven style trends one sees in the street show up in the gym as well. Personal expression doesn’t hang on a hook in the locker room. Healthy, active women are beautiful. Let’s applaud and support that in every way.[/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

Not Such A Secret

July 6, 2015

Pretty Flowers (2014)

I love to wear lingerie. The problem is that men always rip it off too quickly. When women are dolled up in lingerie they feel sexy. So let us wear it for five minutes. –Karen McDougal

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I think the lingerie industry should make Madonna its patron saint. Seriously. Up until the pop singer burst onto the scene in the early 80s, bras were boring, for the most part, and certainly never seen in public. In fact, women would go to great extremes to prevent even the straps of bras from showing. I can remember my mother using tape on a blouse whose shoulder straps were just the tiniest bit narrow enough that, should she move the right direction, a bra strap might be visible. After Madonna, though, anything goes and one can pretty much get away with wearing their underwear right down the middle of the street without anyone saying too terribly much.

The down side to such public exposure, of course, is that much of the mystery has been lost. I can remember as a teen when seeing a girl in her bra was almost as good as making it to second base. Almost. There was a curiosity held beneath those heavily padded B cups that we all were desperate to glimpse and maybe even feel. That curiosity is what drove us, what kept us pursuing the young women for whom we so desperately longed. The fact that we didn’t know had me, and most adolescent boys, ready to volunteer for whatever expedition might lead us to that secret treasure so firmly encapsulated in those gentle domes of foam rubber.

Today, however, there are many times where the only remaining question is, “Are those real or does she have a very good surgeon?” As lingerie has moved from being strictly a foundation garment, bras especially have gained a great deal of transparency and many fashion designers have decided that the bra is a suitable substitute for those silly, cumbersome blouses that clog a woman’s closet. After all, why hint when one can make a bold statement? Take charge. Be the master of your sexuality. They’re going to stare at your chest anyway, so give them a damn good reason to do so. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Modern bras can get rather expensive. Victoria’s Secret displays some on their annual shows that are worth over two million dollars. Sure, they’re pretty, but in many ways it’s wrapping on a present you’ll never be able to open; window dressing, if you will, for a store in which you’ll never be able to shop. I’m not personally drawn to such displays of ostentation, but I’m sure there are plenty of people who are. Certainly, those are the type of bras over which one would be silly to wear anything, no matter whose name was on the label.

Most women have a collection from which they can choose, and I’ve come across a few who needed entire rooms to house their lingerie collections. There are days when one just feels like having satin next to their skin. If going out with someone who seems a bit shy about making the next move, then perhaps a little bit of lace beneath a blouse that can’t help but show it off is in order. Then, there are the days when it’s sweats and that old thing that looks as ugly as sin but does a good enough job of holding “the girls” in place while you’re feeling less than pretty. There’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all bra and neither is there a single bra that works for every occasion. Lingerie just doesn’t work that way.

I never have seen anyone who would wear bras as dramatic as Madonna’s for any reason other than a costume party or photo shoot. In fact, some of Madonna’s bras would probably be a liability if one were to actually attempt wearing them in public. While bras are not the great sexual secret they once were, they still do a very good job of capturing our attention and making us all want to see what’s underneath. Sorry, dear bra, you’re about to hit the floor. Nothing personal. Good night.[/one_half_last]

Fashion / PotD

All The Possibilities

July 5, 2015

Pondering Possibilities (2006)

I was the child who would leave school and take her clothes off the second I got into the house. I made my mom buy me lingerie when I was 5 years old. I was a sicko. My mother must have been mortified. -Alessandra Torresani

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Eleven billion dollars. Think about it. That’s how much revenue lingerie generated in 2014. Eleven billion dollars for bras, underwear, and related frilly things that cover less physical real estate than a bath towel. Oh, but we love every minute of it. Since the mid-70s there hasn’t been an adolescent boy in the US or Britain that didn’t somehow manage to get his hands on the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Before that, there was always the Sears & Roebuck catalog, which could get surprisingly racy for two or three very important pages. Lingerie is that one thing on which both men and women are willing to spend severe amounts of money with rarely any complaints.

Okay, women complain more than men do. Bras are uncomfortable and depending on where purchased never seem to fit exactly right. Of course, lingerie shops counter that most women don’t know how to buy bras correctly. Most young men I know would happily volunteer to help women figure out just exactly how to find the perfect bra, but women have never been too terribly keen about taking them up on that offer. In fact, when I’ve specifically gone to a lingerie store to help a friend or model, the store hasn’t been all that accommodating to my services. Lingerie clerks seem to doubt our intentions. I can’t possibly imagine why.

Still, lingerie is one of those things on which most men and women can agree help define sex appeal. As much as we might find nudity enticing, there is still something about the tease, about the hint of what might be there without actually seeing it, that drives men crazy and elevates a woman’s self-confidence. I would dare say that with the right lingerie a woman can get a man to do her complete bidding with eagerness without the poor sap ever realizing the degree to which he is being manipulated. Lingerie puts women all the more securely in the driver’s seat for any sexual activity their lover may desire with an element of beauty and fashion that is every bit as high-end as the fanciest evening gown.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Yes, there is the practical aspect of lingerie. Some women need bras to help prevent sagging, especially after they’ve nursed a child or 15. Some women use bras to make up for the fact there really isn’t much there to hold. Others use lingerie to help define their shape and there are even lingerie pieces that help those who’ve had surgeries maintain a sense of femininity. Not everything within the lingerie segment is meant to be sexually enticing. In fact, the practical element is most likely the larger part of that eleven billion dollars, though if there are any real numbers in that regard I couldn’t find them.

Still, say the word lingerie and it is the sensual side of the business to which our minds most immediately turn. We think of lace, silk, and satin, carefully design and crafted to entice, to capture our attention, and arouse our senses. We want lingerie to be sexy whenever possible. No one likes wearing boring underwear, though every woman has some. There are, after all, laundry days, or that time of the month when the last thing one wants is to attract attention on which one cannot follow through. Women would much rather slip on the silk and the lace, to feel the soft fabric next to their even softer skin, and to think throughout the day about the encounter that might come at the end of the day.

So, this week we look at lingerie and consider just a few of the more common possibilities. We won’t cover everything, mind you, and if you look around the Internet you’ll find plenty of lingerie designers that even more enticing and provocative than Victoria’s Secret ever thought of being. Lingerie gives women the chance to be naughty beneath their nice, soft beneath the hard, and sensual beneath the strict. What could possibly be more wonderful? We hope you won’t miss a day![/one_half_last]

PotD

Independence For Myself

July 4, 2015

Princess (2011)

“I think it’s neat you do what you want. Not enough chicks do that, if you ask me–just tell society and their expectations to go fuck themselves. If more women did that, we’d be better off.”― Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Independence Day. As a country, we are very loud, very proud, and nothing short of ostentatious in proclaiming the anniversary of our nation’s birth. I’m not sure any other country in the world is quite as over-the-top in their celebrations as are we. I’m okay with the annual pomposity to a large degree. Yes, we have a multitude of problems and we’re damn sure a long way from perfect, but that the wheels have yet to come flying off this experimental bus is, in the perspective of political history, quite amazing. So yes, let’s celebrate what we have that separates us from other countries on the planet.

Equally important, though, is that we celebrate our own independence, who we are as individuals and what separates me from you and you from the rest of the pack. We are taught that, at the most basic genetic level, no two people are alike. Yet, we still struggle to differentiate ourselves, men from other men, women from other women, photographers from other photographers, clowns from Republican Presidential candidates (I’m sorry, that last statement really is insulting to clowns and I hope they’ll forgive me). Our world is so overcrowded that it is difficult to find our own voice in an environment where too often we can’t even hear ourselves think.

We also have to face the danger that in our effort to separate ourselves from the pack we lose sight of the fact we are all still human. For all our talk about individuality, there are still some aspects of our existence where we must join together and act as a unit, putting all our differences aside. We do this to protect our common good, provide for the general welfare, and to secure the liberty we hold so dear. When we become so separate as to not participate in the necessary aspects of humanity, we sacrifice not only our independence but our common brotherhood. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Anytime we declare independence on any level, we have to realize that we are bucking a system that would prefer we all be homogenous, follow the rules, and do what we’re told. Just as the British fought back against the colonists, we often find ourselves at war to establish our own rightful place in the world. Sometimes that battle is against tradition, values and belief systems that have been handed down from generation to generation. Others fight against strong biases that say, “you can’t ….” Still others end up fighting against their own family when they choose to do or be something that no one in the family has done or been ever before. Fathers scold sons. Mothers chastise daughters. Honor is questioned.

I’ve known more than a few people who had to strike out on their own at an early age, leaving behind what barely passed as a family in an effort to somehow survive the conditions into which they had been unceremoniously dumped. Crack babies can grow up to graduate college with honors. Abandoned children who were almost twelve years old before they found out food was supposed to be hot went on to become strong, solid, caring individuals. A young man whose father was murdered in a drug deal goes on to be a successful entrepreneur. A little girl who was told she’d never amount to anything becomes CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

Independence. Mine. Yours. Some wear it in their hearts. Others wear it on their skin. No matter how your independence evolved or how it presents itself now, that do-or-die individuality within you is worth celebrating. Go ahead, light a sparkler or two, set off a brightly colored rocket, or put a match to a string of firecrackers. Celebrate our Independence. Celebrate your Independence. As different as we all are, when it comes right down to it we’re a great country.[/one_half_last]

Uncategorized

Independence, Done Well

July 3, 2015

For My Birthday (2012)

“I do as I please, Monsieur Beauchamp, and believe me, what I do is always well done.” ― Alexandre Dumas

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]As you are reading this, chances are I am on my way to Chattanooga to see the boys. Well, at least one of them, maybe. The oldest is happy to be working the holiday weekend. Pvt. Letbetter is taking a short leave with friends in L.A. So, the youngest is, by default, stuck with Dad. This is what happens when children are raised to be independent; they grow up and go do their own thing with their own friends. Maybe they’ll send pictures, if they happen to think about it, but chances are we’ll have to prod them just to make sure they’re still safe. While I’ll miss having the other two around, this is ultimately a good thing. They are exercising their independence and it would be inappropriate to attempt to prevent that.

I never have understood this whole trend toward helicopter parenting; hovering over one’s offspring as though the umbilical cord was still attached. Loving one’s children does not require smothering them with so much of your attention that they become unable to sufficiently function without you. As much as we love our children, we need a break from them and I’m quite sure they welcome not seeing our faces for a few minutes. We want to be accessible when they have a legitimate need for assistance, such as kissing a boo-boo after they’ve face-planted the sidewalk (just as soon as we stop giggling about how funny it looked). We don’t want to shadow them to the point they lose their identity in our desires.

One of the larger playgrounds we frequent with Kat’s little ones is the perfect place for them to run and play without us needing to eyeball them the entire time. They run, they play, they make new friends, and when they’re sufficiently exhausted they come find us. We then tell them to go and play thirty minutes more because we don’t want them getting a second wind on the ride home. This is not just an exercise in independence, this is an exercise in wearing the children out so they’ll fall asleep without two hours of argument. We love going there.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]However, I am always amused by the parents of their peers who never sit down and take advantage of the intelligent way the playground is arranged. They stay right there within arms reach, not letting their child take even the slightest risk, manipulating their peer relationships, and managing their playtime. I’ve noticed these parents don’t stay at the park as long and I can only assume that it’s because they exhaust themselves more than they do their children. Some parents just have an emotional need to be close to their children; I get that. Their children, on the other hand, would probably do much better if mom and dad would back off just an itsy bit every once in a while.

Independence is something into which a child should grow, not something to which they flee out of desperation. Yes, they are going to make mistakes. Yes, they are going to fall, or get lost, or have heart breaks. How else does one learn how to manage the challenges of life if one’s parents are there rapidly applying salve to every little scrape and preventing them from experiencing the natural consequences of their actions? We’ve seen the adults those children become and it’s not attractive.

Many of the models with whom we work now are close in age to my own children and I often find myself making comparisons. Were they to be like the model in today’s picture I would be happy; she’s independent, ambitious, knows what she wants and is in control of her future (to the extent anyone can be). Not many people we meet are so impressive. She’s had more than her share of challenges and has weathered them well. She loves her mom, but she’s unquestionably her own person.

Maybe we’ll only see one son this trip. That’s quite alright because we love all three enough to let go and let them become who they need to be. Laws of nature demand baby birds leave the nest and fly. We just hope they’ll send pictures. That’s independence done well. [/one_half_last]

pop culture / PotD

Friend of a Friend

July 2, 2015

Dancers (2010)

“And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.” ― Thomas Jefferson

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Social media has evolved very quickly and at this point it is almost easy to forget that a mere seven or eight years ago we were all on MySpace rather than Facebook, loading our profiles with too many things that blinked and photos that were too large and videos that took forever to load. One of the peculiarities of that application which now seems rather absurd was the ability to not only see someone’s friends, but to dig down and see their friends’ friends and even their friends’ friends’ friends. I’m sure the concept in the beginning is that it would help people with similar interest find each other. No one really thought about the stalking aspect, or that employers would actually use that against people.

Yes, you read that correctly. No, I’m not kidding. I saw it happen. I was hanging my photos for an exhibition in a coffee house and a group of three ministers from a nearby church took a table near me and began talking about a fourth colleague, the church’s youth minister. The primary focus of the conversation was that the senior pastor had gone through the youth minister’s list of MySpace friends and then gone through the lists of friends of his top ten friends (creepy, no?). Within that second group, the friends of friends, was found one young man who had posted a photo of himself holding a beer bottle. That was all the senior pastor needed to see. Obviously, by his judgment, the youth minister was not sufficiently careful in whom he befriended and, therefore, must be fired.

I’m not sure what bothered me more: that the pastor would dig so very deeply to try and find an excuse for firing his young minister, or that neither of the other ministers present rose to the youth minister’s defense; they both very quickly agreed with the senior pastor that the youth minister would have to be gone before the next Sunday, which was only two days away. Such shallowness, such cruelty, and such absurd reasoning struck me as not merely non-Christian, but a severe level of Authoritarianism that was not only unreasonable among the clergy but in any employee/employer relationship.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]We tend to think of independence as something defies our need of anyone else. Yet, as Jefferson intoned, we need friends and allies who are equally committed to make our independence actually work. While it is admirable to think and do things for one’s self, realities of life require some network of colleagues or friends, no matter how loose it may be, who might offer assistance when reasonable and necessary. Part of being independent is choosing exactly who it is we wish to have standing with us, and for whom we ourselves might choose to stand.

When I was a child, my parents very carefully chose my playmates for me, cautious to make sure that neither the child nor the child’s parents might prove to be an improper influence. Almost the instance I moved away from home, however, I took no time in expanding my circle of acquaintances to those with whom my parents would not have approved. Over the years, my circle of friends has included witches, drug dealers, shamans, a whole host of LGBTQ people, strippers, prostitutes, and yes, even Irish Catholics. While not all of those ultimately upheld that friendship, a surprising number did and there are still several within that list that I could call for help right now and know they’d come running.

Independence is to not be under the authority of someone else, but it does not exclude the need for friends, and even friends of friends. The test of independence comes not in who we choose as friends, but in our ability to not let our friendship become an encumbrance upon anyone else. Not only must we value our own independence, but that of our friends. Among those with whom we might pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our honor, there are no labels nor any form of moral judgment, for when they are genuinely friends any other title is irrelevant. [/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary / Uncategorized

Independent Thought

July 1, 2015

Tied To TV (2006)

“No man is great enough or wise enough for any of us to surrender our destiny to. The only way in which anyone can lead us is to restore to us the belief in our own guidance.” ― Henry Miller

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Our obsession with media was predictable, and widely predicted. Even by 1964, when television was allegedly in its Golden Age, children’s author Roald Dahl saw the enslavement factor so obvious as to include it in one of the characters in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Saying matters have only grown worse since is a severe understatement. Not only have we become more enslaved by media, but we continually create new forms of media to keep our minds, and our opinions, closely tied to whatever output mechanism manages to keep our highly unreliable attention for more than five seconds. We know we’re addicted and that our habit is bad for us, but we are absolutely unwilling to even attempt to break the cord, firm in the belief that we are better off with the knowledge that media imparts.

Granted, there was one a time when media such as printed pamphlets and newspapers were beneficial. In fact, one can reasonably argue that our country’s Declaration of Independence from England would never have happened if not for the influence and information distributed by Thomas Paine is his Common Sense pamphlet. Since 1837, the press has wielded sufficient influence as to be referred to as the fourth estate (a reference to pre-revolution French society divided into the estates: the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners). As the reach of the press grew, so did its influence. In 1897, Francis P. Church validated the presence of Santa Claus by telling little Virginia that, “If you see it in the Sun, it must be true.”

As the reach of the press grew, so did its influence. In 1897, Francis P. Church validated the presence of Santa Claus by telling little Virginia that, “If you see it in the Sun, it must be true.” Edward R. Murrow was the voice of all that was true in the 1950s and following him Walter Cronkite became known as “the most trusted man in America.” Not that everything in the field of journalism was always reliable, but there was a basis of trust and expectation of honesty that allowed people to ingest their information with a sense of security.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The media monster to which we are now tied has no sense of security to it at all. We have gotten to the point that we allow the media we consume to do all our thinking for us. If something is not validated by our preferred source, then it simply cannot be correct. That multiple sources are never in agreement doesn’t seem to bother us. We choose sides and assume that one is always wrong while the other is always correct, when often the truth of a matter is nowhere near what we’re being told by any major source.

Thomas Paine said something that I think is poignant:

There are two distinct classes of what are called thoughts: those that we produce in ourselves by reflection and the act of thinking and those that bolt into the mind of their own accord.

Notice what is missing from that definition: external influence. Not that Paine expected people to just automatically know everything, but rather he expected that they would take information, such as what he produced, and use that to think, reflect, and come to a reasonable opinion of one’s accord. There’s not accommodation here for allowing any external party to make our opinions for us. In fact, Paine and his peers would find the degree to which we’ve surrendered our thought process to be quite alarming.

Declaring Independence from media is difficult. One has a need to be reasonably informed and the expectations of today’s society are such that one’s need for information is almost immediate. At the same time, though, we should never allow that media to do our thinking for us. Talking heads spouting opinion rather than fact need to be severed from the public arena and not fed their diet of shares and likes and hashtag mentions. We need to take time to step away, to reflect on what we’ve been told and form our own opinion, then see what thoughts might bolt into our minds of their own accord. [/one_half_last]

PotD / Uncategorized

The Independence of Equality

June 30, 2015

Think Pink (2010)

“With the spread of conformity and image-driven superficiality, the allure of an individuated woman in full possession of herself and her powers will prove irresistible. We were born for plenitude and inner fulfillment.” ― Elizabeth Prioleau, Seductress – Women Who Ravished the World and Their Lost Art of Love

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]When 70s model Kelly LeBrock purred the words, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” women everywhere suddenly rushed out and purchased Pantene™ shampoo. While the line was fully intended as a reverse-psychology ploy to sell beauty products, the problem LeBrock and every other attractive model faced then, and faces now, is that people do hate them because of their beauty. There is this mistaken idea that being beautiful somehow discounts one’s intellect. Sadder still is the fact that too often that anti-beauty bias comes from other women.

I can’t speak for every model, of course, but have the advantage, having photographed the young woman in today’s photo on numerous occasions, to know that she is a strong, intelligent, extremely creative, entrepreneur who, yes, is very attractive and, yes, has enough self-confidence to stride naked into a room full or horny men and leave with their balls in her Gucci® handbag. There is no putting her in a box. She appreciates a sincere compliment, but will verbally eviscerate anyone who tries to patronize her, especially in a sexual context. The fact that she is attractive is a bonus that compliments who she is, not retail wrapping that attempts to define her.

Where we run into problems is that taking pictures of one’s personality is rather difficult. Capturing intelligence on film is playing to a false stereotype at best. I could, in theory, take pictures of her working, but that would require considerable explanation and in the end does no better job telling one who she is than does the picture above. I grow rather tiresome of the crowd that seems to think that physical beauty and being a respectable person of intelligence and depth are two separate things. To disparage beauty for intelligence is just as wrongly biased as those who would mistakenly disparage women in favor of men. Both are equally wrong and equally damaging.

Part of being independent is being able to step up and say, without quiver nor anxiety, this is who I am. Period. No justification, no apologies, and no conditional qualifying should ever be necessary. A woman who dresses in Prada is no better than one who duct tapes the inside seam of her pants together each morning. One of the most brilliant mathematicians I’ve known, a person whose command of numbers makes my head spin, was bare-ass naked when I first met her and didn’t give a rat’s ass what I thought about the matter. We forget that bias too easily runs in both directions and shaming a person for being attractive by assuming she is lacking in intellect is one of the most dangerous mistakes one can make.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The proposed Equal Rights Amendment has been introduced to every Congress since 1924 and fell only three states shy of ratification in 1982. For reasons I fail to even begin to understand because they are so inherently foolish and ill-considered, these words are not yet law:

Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex.

The fact that it has taken nearly a century and we still are not any closer to seeing those words in the Constitution than we were when they were first introduced is beyond shameful, an example of just how firmly entrenched social biases become. While we’ve made progress in the area of women’s rights, until those words become immutable law everything we think exists, every step forward we think we’ve made, is temporal and can be erased. The concept is so very simple, and the benefits so astonishingly plentiful, so as to make this amendment’s lack of ratification yet another very embarrassing stain on the United States’ record of civil rights.

At the same time, those who would champion women’s Independence hurt their own cause when they allow something such as position or physical beauty to become the basis of judgment. This isn’t a new battle, either. Consider these words from the 16th century:

“If I follow the inclination of my nature, it is this: beggar-woman and single, far rather than queen and married.”
― Elizabeth I Tudor

If even Queen Elizabeth I felt that the judgments of place and standing impeded upon her Independence, we cannot expect attitudes and practices to change simply upon the force of a social campaign. Attitudes must change, children must be taught, and we must stop looking at beauty and nudity as the antithesis of intelligence and worth.

Being Independent must give one the right to be exactly who and what they are, even when that means being fabulous.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Beyond The Declaration

June 29, 2015

Patiently Waiting (2011)

“I will not be “famous,” “great.” I will go on adventuring, changing, opening my mind and my eyes, refusing to be stamped and stereotyped. The thing is to free one’s self: to let it find its dimensions, not be impeded.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Ah, Monday; that point in the week in which boss’s try desperately to pull employees back in from the distractions of the weekend, and last week, to focus on the work that lies ahead, focusing on what needs to be done next. The task is not easy. When such celebration has occurred on so many different fronts the temptation is to try and keep the party going for as long as possible. After all, who doesn’t like a party? Sure, we know one can’t party all the time, but do we really have to go back to work just yet? Can’t the celebration go on just a little bit longer?

Fortunately, there’s Facebook where we can be as shallow and meaningless as humanly possible and therefore totally deny the fact, on a cosmetic level, that there is work to be done. Half my friends have rainbow-fied their profile picture so that, as more than one person has pointed out, my newsfeed looks somewhat like a Skittles™ factory just exploded all over the place. That alone will keep us from ignoring the important strides that were made last week. Everyone jump on the bandwagon, even if you can’t plan an instrument.

Independence doesn’t stop on one event, though, and for many people today is just another Monday. The kids are off to daycare. The car needs a tuneup. Don’t forget to call and make the baby’s six-month appointment with the pediatrician. Sure, Mommy and Mommy may have gotten married over the weekend, but on a practical level the commitment was already there and this morning, well, it’s pretty much back to work. The presence of a ring on a finger doesn’t change the fact that the newlyweds could, in some states, still lose their jobs, be denied seating in a restaurant, or have difficulty adopting. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Independence is an every day declaration that one will not let the world overwhelm them, that one will not allow themselves to be injured by the biases of others, that two steps forward does not then require one step back. While the label on this liberty may be new, the challenges of upholding this Independence are much the same today as they were this time last week. One still has to stand firm, one still has to be defiant in the face of ignorance, and in some states one might even still need to engage in acts of some civil disobedience to simply get their government to abide by the law.

Look at the date on today’s picture. When it was taken in 2011, what they were doing, having a baby as a lesbian couple, was groundbreaking. They couldn’t marry. Their families weren’t necessarily supportive (some members were, others not so much). Society totally shunned them. Healthcare laws worked against them. At that point, less than 15 percent of Americans said they supported equal marriage rights. For couples like this, the freedom gained last week merges with, and perhaps adds some glitter to an independence that has been growing for several years.

Make no mistake, there is a shiny newness to the Independence now available to our LGBTQA friends, but as they claim that Independence that realize that this is just a marker along a journey that is not yet complete. An important marker, to be sure, but just as that Declaration of Independence ignited some difficulties between those new US citizens and King George III, this Independence also faces challenges. Maintaining Independence is often more challenging that its declaration. Welcome to Monday. Time to move forward.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

An Independence Of Your Own

June 28, 2015

Being In Control (2010). Model: Angela Denton

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I anticipate a lot of talk this week about Independence and what it means. There will be a lot of flag waving, a lot of history (heavily slanted to match one’s opinions), and a lot of chest thumping on the part of Americans. All that is well and good, I suppose. We’re coming into this week all riled up because of everything that happened last week and it probably does us well to take some time and really look at our heritage, the good, the bad, and everything in between. While I’m not sure an honest assessment has ever been possible (the victor writes the history books), to understand why our country was founded and the conditions for that declaration on July 4, 1776 is an obligation we have as citizens. If there’s one thing on which our country is largely united, it is that our Independence is well worth celebrating.

Plus, we really like to blow stuff up. I mean, we REALLY like to blow stuff up. The bigger, the brighter, the louder, the better. I don’t know how it is where you live, but my neighbors have already started, much to my chagrin. I’m an early riser. These posts don’t write themselves, after all. Being that by 4:30 AM I’m usually up and slinging various curses at whatever piece of furniture upon which I’ve stubbed a toe, I typically can’t help falling asleep around 10:00 each evening. This week, however, my neighbors have taken to random acts of patriotic celebration just a wee bit early. Their timing is perfect; just as I’m about to doze off, BOOM! Blowing stuff up is a time-honored means of celebrating our country’s Independence. Folks get upset when one complains.

We also like to take this time to brag about how great America is and tout all our accomplishments over the past 239 years. Nothing wrong with that, either, though one might argue that the list is getting shorter rather than longer. As the world changes, military and economic powers inevitably come and go in terms of superiority and influence. We do well to be proud of our country, but should be cautious that we don’t allow that pride to blind us to our own shortcomings and the need for continued progress on more issues than I have space to list here. Flying an American flag means little when beneath that flag there are still people starving, homeless, and relegated to second-class citizenship for any reason.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Independence is more than just a national thing, though, and if we’re going to celebrate it we should look as much at the individual side of that word. Personal independence, to not be under the influence or reliant upon external entities of any kind, is something many of us tout, but few actually have. Those who do are often labeled as troublemakers because they don’t follow along blindly with the group, or loners because they don’t have the need to be constantly surrounded by people who agree with them. Independent women, especially, are likely to be insulted, referred to in unkind terms, and outcasts from male-dominated portions of society. She may even be told that she is violating the tenets of her religion. If that woman happens to be a person of color, her independence is likely critical to her survival but be sure she will be criticized at every step for expressing that independence.

By now you are likely asking what any of this has to do with today’s photo. Provocative, isn’t it? I chose this picture because if there is one place where personal independence has exploded it is with our sexuality. We have gone beyond occasional expressions of one inclination or another to fully embracing who we are, who we choose to love, and how we choose to express that love. We have also tossed out the window the reliance on old stereotypes and are beginning to let who and what we are in the bedroom extend to more of our lives outside that space. Look at the picture and you see a young woman who is very much in charge of the moment, exercising her independence in a very personal way.

Personal independence takes many different forms and what is appropriate and necessary for one may not fit another. Independence for a child is being able to go to the restroom on their own. Independence for the elderly may be caring for themselves in their own home. Independence for a wounded warrior may be the ability to stand on prosthetic legs after losing theirs to an improvised exploding device. Independence is being able to exercise the right to vote without unnecessary rules getting in the way. Independence is being able to proudly say I am who I am and no one can tell me to be different. This is the independence worth celebrating. Fireworks optional.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

And The Living Is Easy

June 27, 2015

A Quiet Moment (2012). Model: Sarah Harris

“All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer — one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going — one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]So much has happened this week. Global media and the Internet hardly know where to turn because the amount of excitement, and in some cases concern, is overwhelming. We do well to focus on one thing at a time and this week has seen the country grapple with issues of race and symbolism, healthcare, affordable housing (hope that one didn’t sneak past you) and marriage equality. We’ve been so very busy with what’s going on in our own country that we’ve largely ignored anything happening elsewhere. Greece appears to be going into default. The self-proclaimed Islamic State killed dozens in France, Tunisia, and Kuwait. China has been selling 40-year-old meat. The Vatican officially recognized the Palestinian State. This has not been the quiet summer week I had anticipated when we started on Sunday.

In fact, if this is how the summer is going to start, I’m rather fearful of where we might go next. Both of the really big Supreme Court rulings have been handled now. There’s no more good news left to immediately anticipate. Should we be setting ourselves up to deal with disaster, death, and destruction? Certainly, there are some who are calling for such in the wake of this week’s rulings, but we tend to look upon those as extreme views, and, like almost everything Americans say, we don’t actually expect anyone to follow through on those threats.

Summer is that time we want to just live in the moment, not worry about what happened yesterday or might happen tomorrow, but throw caution to the wind and enjoy what is happening right now. Certainly, we need those moments. We need a lot of those moments. Our minds do not respond well to this constant overflow of information and we desperately need and long for days where the valve is shut off for a few minutes and we can just soak up the sun and give our minds time to process. If we keep going at full tilt, then we put our health and perhaps even our lives in danger. Stress kills and has a large arsenal of weapons at its disposal. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]At some point in the future, maybe ten or even twenty years from now, we might look back on this summer and remember something, but what will it be? Will this week’s SCOTUS decisions be the highlight? For those directly affected by the outcome, perhaps so. I have friends from high school who were quite anxious about applying for a marriage license yesterday. For the rest of us, though, there remain several weeks of summer where we might still find even more monumental events. If so, I do hope they are happy ones.

Not everyone gets happy summer memories. Another friend’s father died today, rather unexpectedly. I don’t have to wonder how he’ll remember this summer. The obituary page is never empty and for every name listed there is someone whose summer has been devastated. So it is with every summer. Some win. Some lose. Some are fortunate if they come out even. Kat’s little ones might remember this as the summer of their first garden. Some will remember this as the summer of the great floods, while others remember the severe droughts, dramatic water rationing, and life-threatening heat. Everyone’s experience is different and everyone’s memory unique, even when it’s faulty.

So, perhaps it best that we end this week of summertime joys with a moment of reflection, looking back on all that has happened this week and pondering what might yet come down the road. If you are lucky, perhaps you can do that pondering while sitting on the end of a springboard, dangling your feet in a pool. Maybe you can have the moment of reflection while sitting in the shade of a great tree or snuggling with a pet. Whatever your situation, take a moment to turn off the intake valve and rest. There’s still a whole lot of summer left to enjoy.[/one_half_last]

PotD

To Lie Sometimes On The Grass

June 26, 2015

Afield In Summer (2013)

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” ― John Lubbock, The Use Of Life

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]One of the greatest joys of summer is taking the time to just be. Not easy, I know. That whole “work so you can eat” thing keeps interfering. Even with the garden beginning to yield produce, that still takes a considerable amount of time to tend. And there are children that demand attention as well. Boy, do they demand attention. “Can I have a snack?” “I need a drink!” “When are we eating lunch?” That last one usually comes within ten minutes of having finished breakfast. Kids being needy at home during the summer is why so many parents favor year-round school, you know.

When you can find the chance to sneak off for a few moments, even if it’s only for a half hour or so, just being able to take that time to yourself is just as good as a healthy dose of medicine. Unless, of course, you have allergies, in which case you might actually need to take a healthy dose of medicine before enjoying your healthy dose of medicine. I mean, really, who wants to spend all their alone time wiping their own snotty nose? You don’t want to be the one sneezing all over the place, either. All that noise scares off the wildlife and drowns out the babbling brook. If you’re going to spend quiet time out in nature you don’t want to ruin it with your own noise.

There’s nothing quite as peaceful as sitting in the sun, surrounded by tall grass, leaning back, watching the clouds go by. Go ahead and get naked if you want, feel the summer breeze blowing across your skin. Just be sure to use plenty of a high SPF sunscreen while you’re out there. Even if you tan easily like I do, you’re skin only produces a limited amount of melatonin and when it’s gone there’s no replacing it. Cases of skin cancer have been steadily increasing over the past 30 years. My father died from complications due to skin cancer and he never sat naked in a field. You just have to be careful about those things.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Ah, just to have a moment to unplug and dream, to let one’s imagination soar as high as the summer sky. Is there anything as glorious as watching eagles and hawks swooping and gliding overhead? Critters closer to the ground are something for which one has to watch out, though. Especially ants. Man, let me tell you, nothing ruins a quiet moment quite like setting your naked derriere on a mound of ants. You’ll be needing to call the doctor and have him prescribe you some cream for those bites, and good luck getting anyone to actually put it on there for you. Even if you are lucky enough to have a nicely shaped butt, there’s no one who wants to see a mess of ant bites.

Maybe you can find a cool stream to sit beside, kick off your shoes and dabble your toes in the water for a while. You can just feel all your troubles and worries melting away, flowing downstream where they’ll never bother you again. That is, as long as there are no snakes in the area. We are in North America, after all, and even Alaska has snakes this time of year, I think. They’ll sneak up on you, too. They may not be there when you first sit down, but you stick your toes in the water and they look just like ten pretty little fish to a water moccasin. You don’t hear them coming, you know.

Yes, the outdoors in summer sounds like a wonderful place, doesn’t it?

Okay, let’s get real: that shit’s dangerous. You want peace and quiet? Lock yourself in an air conditioned closet and make sure it can’t be unlocked from the outside. Nature will kill you. I swear, it is out to get you and will bite your ass every time. Mosquitoes. Spiders. Suicidal squirrels. They aim for you the moment you step outside. They’ll get you. They’ll get you every time.

I’m kidding, of course. Probably. Go ahead. Try it. Let me know how it works out for you.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Like A Loaded Gun

June 25, 2015

Bikini Boating (2005). Model: Jade Lynn

“A girl in a bikini is like having a loaded gun on your coffee table- There’s nothing wrong with them, but it’s hard to stop thinking about.” ― Garrison Keillor

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]My late parents were amazing. Considering where I grew up, rural Kansas and Oklahoma, and when I grew up, through the 60s and 70s, they did a remarkably wonderful job of making sure we were exposed to important issues such as civil rights, conservation, and the importance of getting a good education. On those issues, they were surprisingly liberal.

On other issues, however, they could be conservative to the point of leaving my brother and I extremely naive. Of course, baby brother had the advantage of coming after me and usually knowing where I kept my stash of adult magazines. Still, there were many areas, especially in regard to sexuality, that were never considered ripe for any level of conversation beyond, “If you think about it, don’t do it; better yet, just don’t think about it.”

Not everything they did was intentional. Mother was almost deathly afraid of water and didn’t learn to swim until she was in her 40s. So, there were no afternoon trips to the pool when we were little. When I took swimming lessons, the instructors were, of course, dressed in conservative one-piece suits and when one is six one isn’t necessarily concerned about the physical qualities of the person promising to catch you if you jump into the pool. On rare occasion, Poppa might take us to a public pool, but when he did he dominated our attention. He was our life raft, our pool toy, our swim instructor, and favorite playmate all rolled into one. We barely noticed anyone else at the pool.

Then, there was the summer I was 14. Being 14 may be the most painfully awkward age for a boy to be, especially in the summer. There was always someone in the group who was more mature looking and talking about “making it” with girls. The rest of us tried to match his banter, but a quick look in the swim trunks revealed we weren’t remotely ready for anything much more intimate than, “hi.” Even if a girl had kissed us, none of us would have had a clue what to do next. I’m pretty sure a couple of the guys might have fainted. Fortunately, no girl ever put us in the position of finding out.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Being 14 meant our parents weren’t afraid of just dropping us off at the city pool and picking us up later. As long as we stayed in the shallow end of the pool, everything stayed nice and appropriately within our parents’ values.

Everything changed the day some kid dared us to jump off the high dive. Two of the guys in our group immediately chickened out because they didn’t know how to swim that well. Randy and I could, though, and Randy wasn’t about to chicken out on a dare … and he made sure I didn’t chicken out either. My heart was pounding as we climbed that twelve-foot ladder that felt every bit like it reached half-way to God. Randy went first and made it look so easy. I stood at the end of the board, thought, “If the fall doesn’t kill me, Mother will,” and jumped.

I hit the water, hands folded just as I’d been taught, and was pleased to feel no pain. I came to the surface, checked to make sure nothing was bleeding and swam for the side. I grabbed hold of the ladder on the side of the pool, looked up, and there she was. Her tan legs were long with water beading deliciously on her skin. Her teenage bottom was covered by her swimsuit and then my brain screamed inside my head, “OH MY GOD I CAN SEE HER BELLY BUTTON!” I looked up a little further and my head screamed again, “OH MY GOD, ARE THOSE REALLY BOOBS?” I was afraid to keep looking. Had she looked back my head just might have exploded.

Feeling something stirring in my swim trunks, I opted to just swim back down to the shallow end. I had, for the first time in my life, just witnessed a girl in a bikini, and it was glorious. Since then, I’ve probably seen tens of thousands of girls in bikinis (or less) and nearly all of them have been absolutely wonderful young women. None, however, was able to induce that same feeling of euphoria mixed with astonishment and sheer fear the way that first girl did more than 40 summers ago. One thing is certain, though: since discovering girls in bikinis, my summers have never been the same.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Skinny Dipping

June 23, 2015

A Morning Dip (2005)

“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper…” ― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]One of the joys of growing up in the country was slipping off on our bicycles in the middle of a summer afternoon to the low-water bridge about a mile from our house and going skinny dipping. Not that we ever actually admitted that we were skinny dipping. I’d get my shorts wet anyway so that Mother wouldn’t be suspect. Still, the joy wasn’t just in being in the shallow pool of cool water that flowed over that crumbling slab of concrete; the delight was being naked, au naturale in nature as though, just maybe, the gods had intended for us to be that way all along.

According to Poppa’s sermon, technically, that philosophy was right. While I didn’t have any direct proof that Adam and Eve ever went skinny dipping, if they didn’t have any clothes then they wouldn’t have had much choice, did they? The only other option was that they didn’t bathe at all and that would have just been gross, even if they were, in all likelihood, totally fictional. Even fictional characters should be clean, shouldn’t they? And little boys need to be clean, as mothers are so often fond of reminding them. Going skinny dipping always seemed like the perfect solution, especially if we had spent the earlier part of the day getting absolutely filthy.

Skinny dipping in that tiny little pool made our summers right up to the point when, mid-way through the summer we were 16, someone saw a water moccasin in our pool. I didn’t see it, but the scream of “SNAKE!” was all I needed. We were all out of the water and pulling on our shorts as quickly as possible while simultaneously, every one of us, trying to hold our hands over our family jewels. If there was one place on our body we absolutely could not stand to be snake bit, it was our penises. They had only just recently grown to a point of not being totally embarrassing. We didn’t want to lose them to a damn snake.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]That was the last summer in that little watering hole. We moved the next year and I was far too upset at the lack of attractive girls my age to be terribly interested in skinny dipping. There was that place way back on Turkey Creek that was suitable, but driving all the way out there was a pain and if it had rained in the past couple of days one was likely to get stuck crossing the pasture. I did sneak off a couple of times with that blonde I met at church camp. I’ve often wondered whatever happened to her… if only I could remember her name.

Skinny dipping is a bonus that comes with living in the country in the summer. City dwellers are much more uptight about being naked in their public pools. The model’s boyfriend let us into the pool at their apartment complex before the sun was fully up for us to catch today’s photo. We were early enough we didn’t think anyone would notice. Someone did, of course, and he damn near lost his job over it. City people really get stressed and worked up about these matters. Perhaps, just maybe, if they spent a little more time skinny dipping they might be better able to relax and enjoy their summer. If one can’t kick back and relax a bit when the weather is this lovely, when is it ever possible?

I’ve not been skinny dipping in over 30 years now, I’m sorry to say. It’s not as easy to slip off, not as easy to find a place suitably secluded, and as an adult if one gets caught it tends to result in the police getting called. That’s almost as bad as a snake bite; no one really needs either one. Still, I have some wonderful memories of those carefree days from my youth and even an old man can still fantasize a bit. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll stumble across the perfect little pool of water while no one’s looking. Who’s down to join me?[/one_half_last]

PotD

Summer Rain

June 22, 2015

Reflection in the Rain (2012)

There is more to sex appeal than just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much sex appeal, picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain. -Audrey Hepburn

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]This summer is getting off to a rather damp start, at least for the middle and Eastern parts of the continent. The West, well, not so much, but we’re not surprised by that. We were warned. But here, there is a river flood warning for some of the places around town that are a little too prone to the White River leaving its banks. And in Oklahoma, Texas, and Louisiana, anywhere along the Red River is a very dangerous place to be as flooding there has been higher than anyone can remember. While we’ve not had enough rain to set any records, at least none that I’ve seen, it certainly is unusual for use to be entering the heart of summer with the ground soggy, the grass still green, and local authorities talking about a water ban.

What has been frustrating, though, is trying to work around the rain and the fact that weather forecasts have changed several times a day as to whether we’re going to get wet if we venture outside. Most days, I check the forecast when I first get up of the morning and let my aches and pains fill in the blanks. The past couple of weeks, I’ve been checking more along the lines of every hour and finding that rain chances are bouncing up and down like a yo-yo. At one point yesterday the barometric pressure dropped a bit and I was more than ready for a brief but heavy downpour to soak the little urchins setting off fireworks in the neighborhood. Didn’t happen. The one lone storm cell went to our South.

Of course, when we want to take pictures in the rain, it doesn’t happen. At least, not where we need it to happen. Today’s picture was scheduled on a “drop everything and get over here” plan, which was only possible because the model was working evenings and didn’t live too terribly far away. As soon as it was evident that rain was inevitable, we made the call and still had to wait. On another occasion, a male model and I drove all over town trying to get in front of a heavy downpour. We missed it every time. Trying to get the weather to work with your concept plan is rather difficult. The skies just don’t want to listen.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Standing in the rain can be sexy as hell. Wet clothes cling to the body, outlining its curves, and sometimes giving us a hint of what lies beneath. Being wet also makes one appear vulnerable and as humans we respond to that apparent need to be rescued, brought inside and comforted. The romantic rushes to the rescue, towel in hand, hoping that a little kindness shown might lead to thankfulness in the form of intimacy. Unfortunately for the romantic, most people are remarkably independent and self-sufficient, not at all desiring any form of assistance, so not only will they not be needing your towel, the chances of any unplanned intimacy are practically nill. Poor chivalrous romantics never can catch a break, can they?

Playing in the rain is fun and the fact that we’ve seen a resurgence of rubber rainboots as fashion accessories emphasizes that point. There’s a freeing, cleansing, child-like quality to being out splashing in the mud puddles like we did when we were two, but without anyone yelling at us for getting out clothes muddy this time. Playing in the rain is carefree. If the hair style is ruined, so be it; we’re having fun, dammit! We can act grown up later if we must. For now, we just want this brief moment of splashing and frivolity while we can. We would much rather pretend, for a moment, that we haven’t any responsibilities and that there are milk and cookies waiting when we decide to go indoors.

Yes, yes, we must be careful of lightning. There’s nothing sexy at all about being zapped into a coma, or worse, while playing in the rain. Don’t take any chances. If you can hear the thunder you probably need to be inside. While being rain and wind swept can be sexy, especially if one looks like Ms. Hepburn, being dead in a pool of water isn’t quite so attractive and really can ruin one’s summer. Be safe. Have fun. Stay sexy. Enjoy the wetter part of this summer. [/one_half_last]

pop culture / PotD

Officially Summer

June 21, 2015

Cover Up (2012). Model: Danelle French

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Summer is officially here. Sure, it’s felt like summer across most of the Northern Hemisphere for several weeks, but with last night’s solstice we are officially into the season of relaxing and vacation and getting away from it all. At least, that’s the theory. In my mind, summer conjures up images of mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, painting the outside of various buildings, road work interrupting traffic flow, and other sweat-inducing things that also seem to only happen during the summer. Still, there’s baseball, hanging out at the ol’ swimming hole, and going for long walks in the cool of the evening (assuming the evening actually cools). Oh, and girls. Girls in summer are a joy unto themselves and that is exactly where our focus shall be this week.

Girls and summer have had this partnership for centuries. Summer provides the necessary heat and girls respond by shedding a few of the 37 layers under which they were living throughout the winter and most of the spring, reminding us that there really is a beautiful person under all those piles of cotton and wool. And boys? Boys respond by getting into trouble. Everytime. We fall in love with those beautiful girls of summer, and then proceed to do some of the most stupid things imaginable in order to make sure the object of our affection knows just how much we care.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s book wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting had it been set any other time of year. He needed that pool as the catalyst for both romance and trouble. He needed the heat and the long days. He needed the impulsiveness, anger, and jealousy that young men feel more strongly in summer. Not that the story would have ended any differently had it been set in, say, autumn. People still fall in love and make stupid mistakes in autumn; they’re just not as interesting then as when we do it in summer.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Most of my favorite childhood memories took place in summer. There were endlessly long days on my bicycle, riding for miles along dusty roads, arriving back home in the evening tired, sweaty, and usually covered in dirt. There were the summer vacations, the two weeks Poppa would hire someone to fill in for him and we would take off on something that probably wasn’t going to be too adventurous but at least got us out of Oklahoma for a few days. Visiting relatives was a big part of the summer, too, as we had a lot of cousins which meant there would be a lot of food and, since it was summer, watermelon. I loved watermelon. I could eat my weight in watermelon. Good thing I was small.

Today’s picture matches the feeling of summer well. Taken three years ago, Indiana was experiencing an unusual heat wave with several successive days reaching temperatures well above 100. Having grown up in Oklahoma, 100+ degree days weren’t uncommon, especially in July and August, but in Indiana folks begin to melt at 85 degrees. 90+ is a danger zone. At 100 degrees, things began to stop. Outdoor work schedules were altered. Special precautions were necessary for the very young and very old. None of that shows in the picture. Granted, we were up at the crack of dawn and even then temps were already into the 80s. But Danelle does a wonderful job of shrugging off the heat and giving us the beauty and emotion of an effortless summer.

Summer is officially here, kicked off by a celebration of fathers who are happy to have one day where, hopefully, no one is asking them to do hot, sweaty chores. The days of beauty, frivolity, and romance are inescapable. Let’s just try to avoid Jay Gatsby’s fate, shall we?Girls in summer are wonderful … and sometimes dangerous.[/one_half_last]

PotD

When Memory Fails

June 20, 2015

: Beads (2008). Model: Anneliese Craft

“Every trail has its end, and every calamity brings its lesson!” ― James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I don’t remember why we took these pictures. There’s a whole set of them with Anne giving me a variety of facial expressions. What baffles me most is why the finished images are cropped to a fairly tight square. The face is really all that is seen. Why would we do that? I have a feeling a now-defunct magazine in Cincinnati may have been involved, but I’m not totally sure even of that. It is entirely possible that the only reason we did the shoot was because someone (Anne? Nick?) had a truck-load of beads left over from Mardi Gras.

This is yet another one of those instances where investigating the further reaches of my archives really tests my memory and too often my memory fails. I have for years labeled digital archive disks the same way I once labeled negative boxes, with model name, concept name, and if necessary, series order. That works for about five years, though, and then I start getting confused. Cindy? Which Cindy? I’ve been eager to open a file more than once thinking I knew the contents only to be severely disappointed. It’s never that Cindy.

Compounding the memory issues are the models who’ve been prolific in front of my camera, such as Anneliese. I have over thirty concepts shot with Anne. Some were simply labeled with a location rather than a concept. Some are only labeled with a date (what on earth was I thinking?). Which ones include Jackson? Which ones were outside? What was the name of that other model in those shots? As I look through the long list of files I wonder how many of them anyone else remembers. Did any of them make a difference, or were we just shooting for our own amusement?[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Memory is a tricky thing, requiring the activity of a part of our brain that is already a bit fragile and frequently unreliable. So many things can diminish our capacity to remember, such as alcohol or some medications. Emotional trauma can erase our memory of entire events. One bad knock to the noggin and we can lose years of our own existence. And that’s not even figuring in the number of diseases that might affect memory.

Being able to remember is a big issue, and interestingly enough, pictures frequently help with that issue. For example, both my parents died while my boys were still quite young. While the older two remember visiting with them, the youngest was only four. They rely on picture and stories to keep those faint memories alive and valid. By contrast, I lost both my grandmothers when I was young as well, but there were few pictures of either of them. Keeping their memory alive in my mind is a struggle, especially as I get older. I also remember watching Granddaddy’s battle with Alzheimer’s and that scares the living crap out of me.

I should probably do a better job labeling my archives. I already have to rely on the image’s exif data to remind me when it was taken. There’s space in that data for more detailed notes and I would probably be well served to fill in that space. But then, that’s something else I would have to remember to do and considering I’m already not doing well in that category I fear the odds are well stacked against me. I’m just waiting for the day I click on a folder and think, “My, what beautiful photographs! I wonder who took them?” At least I’ll have the pleasure of being surprised.[/one_half_last]

potd

Which is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake? -Justin Alcala

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The time that leads to mastery is dependent on the intensity of our focus. ― Robert Greene, Mastery

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It’s much easier on the emotions when one sees life as an experiment rather than a struggle for popularity.― Criss Jami, Killosophy

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It can be a trap of the photographer to think that his or her best pictures were the ones that were hardest to get. – Timothy Allen

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My mom was sarcastic about men. She would tell me Adam was the rough draft and Eve was the final product. She was a feminist minister, an earth mom who wore a bra only on Sundays. —Daphne Zuniga

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Be pretty if you can, be witty if you must, but be gracious if it kills you. –Else DeWolfe

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“The bottom of a cup of coffee is not as good as the bottom of her body—which is actually in the middle of her body.” ― Jarod Kintz, I love Blue Ribbon Coffee

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A girl should be two things: sexy and fabulous. –Coco Chanel

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Sex appeal is 50% what you’ve got and 50% what people think you’ve got. –Sophia Loren

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I love to wear lingerie. The problem is that men always rip it off too quickly. When women are dolled up in lingerie they feel sexy. So let us wear it for five minutes. –Karen McDougal

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I was the child who would leave school and take her clothes off the second I got into the house. I made my mom buy me lingerie when I was 5 years old. I was a sicko. My mother must have been mortified. -Alessandra Torresani

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“I think it’s neat you do what you want. Not enough chicks do that, if you ask me–just tell society and their expectations to go fuck themselves. If more women did that, we’d be better off.”― Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

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“I do as I please, Monsieur Beauchamp, and believe me, what I do is always well done.” ― Alexandre Dumas

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“And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.” ― Thomas Jefferson

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“No man is great enough or wise enough for any of us to surrender our destiny to. The only way in which anyone can lead us is to restore to us the belief in our own guidance.” ― Henry Miller

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“I will not be “famous,” “great.” I will go on adventuring, changing, opening my mind and my eyes, refusing to be stamped and stereotyped. The thing is to free one’s self: to let it find its dimensions, not be impeded.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary

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“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

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“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” ― John Lubbock, The Use Of Life

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“A girl in a bikini is like having a loaded gun on your coffee table- There’s nothing wrong with them, but it’s hard to stop thinking about.” ― Garrison Keillor

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“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper…” ― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

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There is more to sex appeal than just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much sex appeal, picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain. -Audrey Hepburn

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“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

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“Every trail has its end, and every calamity brings its lesson!” ― James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans

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