black and white

This is from the first shoot in the new gallery space, not quite a week ago... it's so nice to have high ceilings again, that's one of the few things I miss about the old Chicago studio, six and a half years in the past. No more worries about that issue. Now all I need is more electrical outlets and even and reliable heat, that will keep the models happier.

Anyway, this is Maria. In the past she's done fairly mainstream shoots, with competent but mainstream photographers; a little glammy, very soft in a presentation sense.

She had the sense to ask for edgier, but acknowledge that it might not be wise to dive all the way in at once, to work somewhere in the middle, a transition from, as she put it, where she is now to where I am.

So these are just a little harsher, just a little scarier (for her, at least I assume so), but without pushing limits too hard, without trying to make her be something that she isn't yet.

She worked mostly in a black robe, and with her dark hair and the black background, her skin was the only contrast. The robe moved, shifted, sometimes a little, sometimes dropping mostly away, barely there. I knew it might be tricky to make it work, all the black. Maybe it's crazy to try this on the first shoot in a new space, but I decided to just do it, followed my intuition, either knew it would work because of tons of experience, or have deluded myself that I can pull anything off, not sure which.

I think there are some shots which show a little more emotion, I'm sure there are some with expressive hands, but I'm (again) almost out of paper so still need to make proof sheets.

I thought this was going to be the last shoot of 2007, but there just might still be one more, will know for sure tomorrow. Taller, older, light hair, very different.

spoiled

These past few weeks I've been looking at a fair amount of top quality photography. Enough that I just haven't paid much attention to the mediocrity that is, of course, everywhere.

Mostly, I've been looking at work in the context of thinking about who to invite in for a gallery exhibit. Either my intuition is on this week, or I've just been lucky.... a lot of the web presence I've viewed has been pretty good, and some of it has been world class.

It had to end.

Today I unfolded a scrap of paper someone gave me the other day, punched in the url of this guy they had met, said he was a photographer. The home page didn't completely turn me away, but anybody can get lucky once. In one more level, look around for a few minutes. OK, that's enough, time to go. Nope, not this guy.

There's nothing wrong with it technically, in the exposure and photoshop sense. But if this guy ever had an imagination, it took a vacation. He's a technician with a camera. And he thinks he's good, to the point that he writes about photography in his blog as if he needs to explain to the world why he takes pictures. But he can't compose a picture (or a paragraph, for that matter), and his work is just... bland. It's about the subject, in a neatly boxed and strictly representational sense. There's no deeper connection. There's no passion, no feeling.

He reminded me of myself, at about 17, shooting for the papers, thinking I was a hotshot just because people paid for my photos. I didn't understand yet that they paid because I delivered reliably, every Monday morning, in time for deadline. They tolerated reliable mediocrity, while shunning some shining creative talents who couldn't deliver two weeks in a row.

I look back at some of those old images and wonder why anyone paid for them. I hope Mr. photo dude gets to that point someday. Unfortunatly, I know firsthand that it takes a pretty profound existential kick in the head to wake up.

femme fatale

I like to play with fire.

I met her almost five years ago, then didn't see her for a long time. One night, in a club in Chicago, I saw her across the crowded room. By then, I knew her real name, or part of it. She was surprisingly friendly. I encountered her repeatedly after that, sometimes late at night in that or other clubs, sometimes at gallery openings. Over time, I came to know her well; or at least as well as she lets anyone know her. In so may ways, she remains an enigma.

Like so many femme fatales, she's strong, cold, and vulnerable all at once. She likes to flirt, she's told me so, and she's good at it.

One summer evening we went to dinner. She dressed elegantly, and we sat in a Thai restaurant and talked of things that would have shocked our neighbors. On the way back to the car she let me photograph her, two images on the sidewalk in the fading light. She agreed in principle to be photographed more formally. Then, as often happens, I didn't hear from her for months.

That's been the game, for five years. Friendly flirtation, then absence. Prompt response to e-mails or phone calls, then for a while, none. Then an apology, and more flirting. With most women, even with stunningly beautiful models, I walk away if this happens once. For me, attractive women are commonplace. With her, I tolerate it, enjoy the challenge, and it's all a game. We each win battles in this very civilized war without an end.

At last, she did let me photograph her. We shot in her third floor apartment, first with window light and then with a pair of compact hot lights. The image above was taken toward the end of the evening, after I'd seen an impressive range of expression. Sometime before this she had told me of her past as a fashion model, in Germany I think. Indeed, she's no stranger to the camera, even if it has been a while.

The last time I saw her, about four months ago, she offered to get together and shoot some nudes. Then, of course, I didn't hear from her for several months. She reappeared, by e-mail, two weeks ago. Of course I'm 2,000 miles away, and uncertain when I'l be back in her neighborhood. When I am, there's a 50 percent chance she'll be ready to shoot. Or not. But eventually, she will. When she's ready.

One night, three years ago, I saw her without makeup, in jeans and a tee-shirt. I was on the sidewalk in front of a gallery, getting a little fresh air, getting away from the crowd. She came down from her apartment next door, just running across the street to buy cigarettes. I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw me. It hurt her so badly to be seen that way. Yet, it was just a few weeks later that we went to dinner and she looked so elegant.

She knows so many people, flirts with so many men. Now, she enjoys her power, revels in it's use. She knows, I think, that it won't last forever. She understands the fragility of power, its ephemeral nature. Already, even as she's surrounded by people, she's alone. She may always be alone, and at some level, afraid.

above and beyond

There aren't very many of them. But some models will do whatever it takes to create a powerful image.

Salome has done it every time we've worked together... five times? She's been encased in plaster, unable to move for an hour. She's played in the mud on a hot summer day. She's been buffeted by strong winds and blowing sand after driving an hour each way to the location. She's shivered in the cold November breeze off Lake Michigan, wearing only a thin bit of cloth. Finally, she's braved late winter freezing rain and a winter storm advisory for several hours, and traveled two and a half hours each way with me, to and from another location.

Perhaps I should offer her an easy shoot, one without adverse weather, one not physically strenuous...

Nah. That wouldn't be any fun.

As you can see, Salome takes visual creation seriously. Ask her to go into a particular emotional headspace, and she dives right in. Sometimes that can hurt more than the physical things or the weather. It's something many models never learn how to do. Yet she seems to go there for real, and stay there for as long as needed. I've had to remind her to give that dress a tug, cover that stray nipple when someone walks by, she's so deeply into her creative space.

What to do next...

bridge of now

Nixon Sixx, from a September shoot near Berkeley. This peninsula, a metaphorical bridge from past to future, with each chasing the others tail. Here, those who came before failed, and discarded the pieces. Most walk around, avoid this place. A few create something new from the relics of that past, something the old ones would not understand, would reject, as we have rejected them and their ways. Here, like Nietzsche, we watch the past die, watch it rise from the ashes as something new. What some fear, we encourage. What they don't know might hurt them. Here, among dark and light passageways, we walk, we discover, we create. She wears the flexibility of the edge, and of nothingness.

One who seemed so innocent told me of this place, several years ago. Now, the years mean nothing. Her innocence was false, a disguise, a precurser. The next ones, the silent one, and the dark one, and the yet unknown one, they file through this place without time, leaving only memories, and images.

suburbia

Engel Shrei, on a construction site. The lights in the background are Merrillville, Indiana... suburban sprawl at it's worst. It's dusk, about 50 degrees with a biting wind, damp, and she's standing on sharp gravel.

The expression on her face... yeah, that's how I feel about suburban sprawl, too.

prolific

I'm most of the way through making proof sheets. And I'm almost out of paper.

I had no idea that I'd shot that much, gotten that far behind.

I also made a few postcard prints, from my 2002 images of Hobart. Sold one on the sidewalk on Main Street before I'd even made it inside the gallery.

dark and light

A shot of Acid Poptart, the assistant fashion editor of Gothic Beauty Magazine. This was done near the beginning of our early October shoot in Columbus, Ohio.

The last time we shot was in summer rain, in a parking lot. We were an outlier of calm surrounded by swirling drama. Another model working not far away, with some local photographer who seemed... a little odd. We were both a little distracted by that, a little worried, and the slight tension actually added to our images. We'd also all been out much too late the night before, and... the rest of the story gets a little too complicated to go into right now.

This time, all was quiet. I was on my way to a conference in Cleveland, traveling alone. So just the two of us. The weather was different, stark sunlight, hot... well into the 90s. These early shots were done in my hotel room, using the light from a window and the partially open door, in this case shooting into the mirror. Then we went to a near-downtown location and shot in the shade of a brick building, in an alley and mostly out of sight of the nearby street. I think we spent more time talking than shooting.

Her makeup is always amazing. It took about two hours to apply this time.

holiday

The first of four days off... I slept late (9:30), rode a bike down to Main Street, which was mostly deserted. What few locals were out were in a mood to talk. It took a couple of hours to make the rounds. Then some clean up, I've found the bare surface of my desk, gotten those last few rolls of negatives put away. I'll probably do proof sheets later tonight. I'm caught up on processing, still have quite a bit of scanning to do.

For the first time, I'm feeling that doing something with existing work is more important than creating new things. I can no longer look back and just know what to pull off the shelf... because one entire shelf is now filled with binders of negatives, and the four binders from 2007 won't fit on the same shelf. There is now, officially, too much. I'm glad I'm back to shooting film these past few years, because trying to organize and file a similar quantity of digital images would be a frightening task. Film is just more tangible.

I'm in the early stages of a web site update, part of a new gallery ids actually already uploaded although still blind for now. Lots of tedious coding to do on other pages before I'll be ready to take it live.

I do have several ideas floating around, concepts. But it's not feeling urgent yet to go out and create. Yet another turn in the path, maybe. I'm not really sure yet.

gone

Crash... out of control. Two down, one to go. So young, so troubled. Outer innocence, like a mask... it fools. Should have... now too late.

The other, three times her age. A creator, creating other creators. With him, or against him, no middle ground. Inevitable; one reason I am here, one reason I crossed the world. The ground still moves, the spark has not gone out. The flame passes to those left behind.

[... for Crystal (24) and Hobart (74)...]

duality x 2

Even as mainstream internet photography continues to sink to unprecedented depths... it seems everyone has a camera now, and wants to photograph young women... I find hidden places of wonder, seldom traveled side paths.

First: wonderful nudes shared by a model I've never met. Posted on a small and obscure forum, they are amazing images, some of them, so beautiful. She asks for our help in choosing what to include in a hard-copy portfolio. A pleasant task.

Second: right now, I'm looking at a portrait of a woman, someone I've met once, briefly, four years ago. Someone I expect to see again in the not too distant future. I have not photographed her, don't know if I ever will. But looking at these images, and learning new things about her tonight, I see a depth I never knew was there. I see experience beyond her years, two created personas, overlapping just a little. The clues are there within each one to find the other, but only if one looks very closely. Only if one works at it a little.

The persona I'd known of previously is not a very visual one. There are images, but they are few and not the best. The mystery is deep, the darkness willingly maintained. The second persona, the one she just let me in on tonight, left enough clues for me to find... is nothing less than visual performance art. All the more striking in that they're almost all self-portraits. Even more striking in that this person who outwardly fears little, who can personify fear and inspire it in others, claims to be afraid of being in front of another persons camera.

In these images, I see beauty. I see rules shatter like glass. I see hatred and kindness mingle like tributaries of blood. I see dark reflected in the light. I see the sound, feel the red. She is there, and here. Under silver rain, past and future come full circle, each devouring the other.

paralysis

I'm not shooting as often, because of limited time. When I am able to shoot, the results are fine. In a technical sense, of course. In an artistic sense, sometimes. It's been more difficult than usual though. I'm spending too much time in the rational side of the brain. Creative bursts are too brief, too spread out. As a result, it's harder to be excited, passionate about creating images. I've actually gotten more enjoyment from photographing assorted roadside things in run-down small towns recently.

A few days ago, I did a shoot with a very mainstream model; not by accident, I do this sometimes just for variety.. She brought her own stylist. The two of them talked the whole way through, mostly gossip about other models, other photographers. There was the obligatory mention of America's Next Top Model, which of course I've never seen. It was difficult to get them to talk about the creative aspects of the shoot, if there were any. Really, my only intent was to practice my studio lighting, refresh those skills after lots of recent location work. These types of shoots work better if the expectations are kept in check.

The model said she had a bit of a panic attack earlier in the day, thought about cancelling, and her boyfriend talked her back into it. She was still a little nervous in the beginning, but then loosened up. She's had a fair amount of experience, so it's good to be reminded of how fragile attractive young ladies can be. She talked openly about her insecurity.

My next shoot is scheduled for the Bay Area, at the opposite end of the spectrum... a very alternative looking girl, whose messages imply brains and confidence, and a distinct lack of inhibition. We'll see if it's real.

what a day

This morning started with a cup of coffee on the sidewalk with a friend, under foggy skies, followed by a drive down the coast. I do this drive a lot, almost every week. Today though I couldn't resist detouring through the redwoods, with the top down. A little cool, the fog was just beginning to lift, but well worth it... an incredible perspective on these amazing trees, reminders in their great age of the folly of human short-term thinking.

By the time I got to the office it was warm and sunny. Then, around 7:30, I went over the Golden Gate into San Francisco. Once in the city, heavier traffic limited sightseeing. But the day reminded me how lucky I am. While most suffer the monotony of homogenous and unimaginative suburban sprawl, I regularly get to see these wonderful places.

In the morning, to the airport, and to Chicago for a few days. Two shoots, it looks like; one with a runway model I've worked with before, and maybe... not confirmed yet... one with a newbie with an interesting look.

not direct

Written in response to a very long forum post which, boiling 1700 words down to a few, claims that digital is "creation" while film is "capture" and that for some reason, because digital is allegedly "direct." A lot of words that, in my view, don't actually say much.

----------

Digital isn't direct either. Instant gratification is a measure of a short attention span, not of reality.

Digital is a two-dimensional representation, pixels on an LCD or a monitor, of whatever we think reality is, which itself is reflected light passed through our eyes and interpreted by our all too human brains.

None of it is real. It's just a process, an interpretation. Kant and Shopenhauer, among others, expounded eloquently on the perception and "reality" of their own time... many years ago. So this is hardly a new debate.

In the end, it doesn't matter if it's done digital, or with film, or with a paintbrush, or a pencil, or a welding torch and metal. Or with words on paper, for that matter. The painter, the sculptor, the author, may be able to "see" what they are working with in front of them, touch it, yet it may take months to reach the final product. And you can't see the final product until it is final, just as with film and paper.

So I appreciate all the effort put into writing the original rant. But after reading all of it, my thinking has not changed. Each artist will continue to use whatever medium excites their passions of the moment. That's all that matters, the act of creation itself, however it is done. The world would be a slightly less magical place if any form of art dropped by the wayside and was forgotten.

And the people who are not artists, those who are still working to hone their talents and those who will never rise above mediocrity? Whatever they're doing, it's better than passively sitting in front of the television. No one is forcing me, or anyone else, to look at every photograph ever taken, some catch our attention, some are instantly forgotten. That is the way of the world.

It's been an evening of contrasts.

After spending the day leading a series of work-related field meetings, I cleaned up and headed down to Oakland to meet Elizabeth for coffee. The coffee house is sort of a white intellectual counterculture haven, an island in an otherwise overwhelmingly black neighborhood. Very urban.

Then on the way back north, I stopped for dinner in Petaluma. It was late enough, after 10, that none of my regular places there were open, Denny's was about the only choice. After driving through the upscale downtown, the restaurant... located right next to the Rt 101 ramp... looked like something out of an old and slightly frayed postcard, not remodeled in decades, and inhabited mostly by truck drivers stopping for a bite to eat.

Next, a detour through Santa Rosa's courthouse square to stop at an ATM. Dodging drunken yuppies walking back from some club, I looked around at the cute but over-designed and sterile suburban surroundings... and here I really need my camera instead of words.

I need to get back to documenting this crazily diverse country of ours, this place where some have it all and don't quite know what to do with it, while others hang on to their dignity by the fingertips, and some gave up a long time ago. I need to capture images of the decay hiding behind the sterile gentrification, the places we can't maintain even as we build more places that we someday won't be able to maintain.

The pretty girls are a nice distraction. The surrounding absurdity is a little more difficult to render into a two-dimensional image. But it needs to be done.

gravity

This afternoon I met Julia in Lake Forest, at a coffee place. She looked about as ordinary as it's possible for an exotic Russian 5'11" blonde to look, in jeans and without makeup, and with a hat pulled down close to her eyes. We talked for a while, then she went into the washroom to change. Emerging a few minutes later in a black dress, she ran a gauntlet of quick glances and a few stares... thankfully, on the sophisticated north shore, most people were relatively tactful.

She did her makeup in the car, completing the metamorphosis. Then we shot for a few minutes near a fountain with a small sculpture. Tough light... bright sun, not a cloud in the sky. So I went for the risky shots, backlight with a rim of highlights on face and hair, and the cascading water sparkling in the sun.

We moved over to McLaughlin Meadow, a short distance away, and she changed into a much shorter black dress, impossibly short. Urban edge in the native grassland; intentional contrast. Here the light was a little better, filtered by nearby oaks. Here emotion came to the surface, and was captured on film.

We sat in the car for much too long and talked after that sequence, then another change and a few more images in the fading light. I dropped her back in town just about at full dark.

As before, the connection had been there, the energy flowing in both directions. There must have been a significant residuum, because when I walked into a restaurant half an hour later to get a late dinner, one of the servers immediately turned and locked eye contact, and I felt something intangible slip into place, a connection impossible to describe in words. She hovered after the food arrived, much more than she needed to, was friendly and spontaneous. At the first opportunity, she sat down and talked... for at least 20 minutes, ignoring gentle prods from the owner. A fascinating young woman, with an unconventional but very expressive face and plenty to say... often unpredictably.

I wrote down my web site url and handed it to her as I left, told her I'd photograph her next time if she wished. And I walked out the door. The ball is in her court, she'll accept, or not... whichever it's meant to be.

breathe...

Yesterday was so crazy that I forgot to eat dinner. Meetings all day, a shoot, a quick coffee with two friends, dealing with a ton of e-mails, not getting to bed til well after midnight.

The shoot went well, once I'd fought my way through the traffic and still made it within a few minutes of the scheduled time. We took advantage of a side access to a trail at a site I'd written an environmental document for several years ago, so we had total seclusion even as we were surrounded by suburban sprawl... there are still seldom visited places even among crowds. The model turned out to be energetic and with an acting background which we put to good use... and not shy. The new concept seems to be worth pursuing.

There's a shoot scheduled with Julia tomorrow late afternoon, this will be our third. Then there are a couple of other inquiries which are still in early discussion stages, and are more likely to happen when I return next month.

what?

Today's shoot is pushed back to tomorrow, I was relieved when she asked last night because by then it had become clear that my day was going to be a little more full than anticipated. So I just got off the phone with the 19-year old model, and now I'm wondering if she really understands what she's getting herself into. I've just printed out the casting call, and I'm going to make her read it before we even leave the coffee place. Why do I bother to write these things out in detail.....

Then a different kind of inquiry, a message from a 45-year old southern California woman basically saying how much she likes my work, and hoping that we can shoot. Only problem is, I don't get to Socal every day, and I have no idea from her words what it is she's interested in. She's cute, although it took some effort to tell that from her very amateur level photos.

If she's willing to get herself to someplace convenient for me, great, I may take a chance. Assuming the answers to the questions I've just sent back to her are reasonably coherent.

brave girls

San Francisco: It broke 90 in much of the Bay Area today. We're not accustomed to this on the coast, especially in spring. It's dead outside, it seems everyone just stayed home. Those who are out aren't moving quite as quickly as usual.

In the morning I get on an airplane to Chicago, where it isn't nearly that hot... not yet.

And I'm trying an experiment. A new series of photos, yeah, I do that a lot. I'm in the mood to work with some fresh talent in addition to a few of the old reliable friends, but not in the mood to deal with girls who are afraid of their own bodies. So I posted a casting call, and very clearly stated that topless-level nudity is a requirement.

The responses so far... it's only been up about a day and a half... have been surprisingly positive. Out of about 90 views, four have responded, and only one of those is an absolute no-way-I'll work-with-her. Another I'd shoot with if the timing worked, but she gets into town a few days too late. The remaining two are local, and they both really do interest me. One has agreed to a time and place, the other just posted, and I haven't had time to respond yet.

They aren't what I'd consider edgy/alternative, not at all. But they aren't hopelessly vanilla, either. They're both capable of being serious, I think. Both have an interest in fashion, which is fine for this concept, actually an advantage in a way; although both are, in the usual unfair way of the world, too short for fashion. Neither has any nudes posted, neither says anything about the matter in their profiles. I wouldn't have guessed they'd say yes, but they don't scream go away, either.

They're young enough and new enough at this and mainstream enough that the no-show or bail-out risk is higher than what I typically encounter. I'll take the chance, and if this continues to screen out the hopelessly inhibited girls, I may try it more often.

concept 119

We break our bonds, yet we carry them around with us like reminders of the past. They fall free, yet hug tightly. They have tone, texture, we still feel them. Some have more, some have less, but few seem able to toss them aside. In the stark box of the frozen image, we can see what we can't in real life. It is simple, almost austere, a little dark, yet elegant in a strange sort of way.

not a model

This was taken in an Oakland coffeehouse a couple of months ago. Yes, I have photos of her face, too, but this was one of the more expressive images, and in a way, it tells the story.

She's a fascinating young lady, only 18, and she had never heard the words to the Alice Cooper song that's considerably older than she is. She's extraordinarily bright, much more so than most people two or three times her age. She's unpredictable. And she's afraid.

I really should do more work with ordinary people. Models are fun, but...

silly girl

Many of the models I work with are creative, intelligent people. Many are artists themselves. I make some assumptions when I correspond with them, write about fairly abstract concepts sometimes. The few who can't handle it... well, let's just say it's better to scare people away early rather than waste time later.

Recently I agreed to shoot with a relatively mainstream fashion girl. This one seems to be helping to perpetuate the dumb blonde stereotype. Either that, or she gets stoned a lot.

A couple of her messages have been semi-coherent. Just now, she messaged and said she had the days mixed up, forgot she will be out of town on Friday so can't shoot then.

I knew that. For that reason, we had scheduled for Thursday. It's right there in black and white, two messages above the one she just sent.

Funny thing is, I don't really care about this particular model. She's cute, but not the type I usually work with, not at all. I would like to test that lens I just picked up, though. Might have to go grab somebody off the street, I don't really feel like waiting til the Chicago trip, which may happen next week or next month.

travel rant

Update on the KC models: As noted below, two were on time, ready to shoot, and I'm quite happy with the experience in general. Both drove out from the St. Louis area, four hours each way, one spent the night in a hotel to be ready for a morning shoot. Certainly can't ask for more than that.

One other model cancelled well in advance, and I expected her to; a seven-hour drive each way was simply not realistic for her, and we offered her the chance to opt out well before she actually decided to take it.

The fourth one is the puzzle. She's the only one who lives right in town, short easy drive for her. She went missing for a week before the shoot, didn't respond to several e-mails, never confirmed, so we assumed she was out (I should note that I never actually had contact with this model myself, my photographer friend and collaborator handled this one). Apparently, she reappeared late the night before the shoot, e-mailed my friend with a message to call her and let her know where to meet. My friend didn't see the e-mail til after the shoot, it came in after she'd already gone to bed, and of course she had to leave early in the morning to make the shoot. I'm told it was suggested after the shoot that she consider messaging me and trying to set up a quick downtown shoot around the conference, but I never heard from her, so never had to make that decision.

So two went to considerable effort to shoot; one blew an easy opportunity. Go figure.

I'm not crazy about Kansas City in general, although admittedly I haven't seen very much of it. Downtown seems nice enough, good mix of older buildings with character and gentrification. But get much away from the city center, and it's poorly designed roads with poor signage, and what I've encountered of the people has been fairly mediocre so far. The airport wasn't impressive, either.

I flew out of Kansas City this evening, the flight left an hour late. Partly weather, with some rain; but half the delay was just inefficiency by all involved. We got to Denver just a few minutes after my connecting flight had left, and the customer service rep was not one of the more helpful or intelligent ones I've ever encountered. The only other SFO flight was way over booked, they'd automatically put me on a next-morning flight, but they weren't willing to cover a hotel. So instead I caught a flight to Las Vegas leaving 15 minutes from when I left the counter, and I'm in Vegas now.

The terminal is tacky, worn, outdated, with gambling machines, lights, and noise everywhere. It's a crazy, sprawling airport, geared to take money from waiting passengers, not to move people efficiently. I can't wait to get out of here. It's a midnight flight, into SFO around 1:30 am. No idea if my bag will get there before me or after me, but it won't be on the same plane.

The Denver layout is equally crazy, if new and clean and tidy... but it's a half-mile hike from one end to the other. Having worked with a few airport planners in my day, I know it doesn't need to be like this. Having met one of the guys who did final design on Denver, I'm not surprised it functions poorly in the real world.

So I'm sitting in Vegas, a place that for me symbolizes much of what's wrong with our twisted, short-term thinking, materialistic culture, wondering where we as a society went wrong. Maybe it's just that it's been a long day and I'm tired and cranky, but there's something wrong here. We, as a society, are falling so far short of what could be.

heartland

Kansas City, Missouri. Two of the shoots took place today. I met my photographer friend Envy and one of the models in Parkville, and we worked three or four locations nearby. This model was good, excellent range of expression, she responded well to subtle cues, unusually dynamic posing. While she's sort of an innocent type, she likes to "play dress up" and her half-asian heritage and interest in anime show in the unusual outfits.

The afternoon shoot was in the city, with a brand new model, great two-tone hair... this was, I think, her first real shoot with experienced photographers. She was of course a little stiff, but did ok. It was valuable, I think, to coach her through the process, for the two of us to watch each others methods for doing so.

It's interesting that both models drove in from St. Louis. There seem to be so few alternative types here.

Now I'm checked in to the Hyatt, wishing I'd packed a spare model in my luggage. I usually dislike hotel shots, so tacky, but this place has full-length windows in the hall looking out over the downtown skyline, and a huge bathroom mirror with lots of lights and shiny things. I could do some things with this.....

toward the center

On Sunday, I'm doing a shoot in Kansas City, actually a series of shoots. I'm visiting there for a conference, and will be making a presentation on Monday and Tuesday, so basically am flying in a day early to have a little personal time.

This started as an excuse to shoot with a photographer friend there, someone I haven't seen in three years, someone who I think is really talented and has a style very different than mine. It's creative time, a chance to bounce ideas around and share a little creative energy. It's a chance to shoot for the fun of it, without a lot of expectations.

Initially I contacted two models from the general region, one I've worked with before, another who has a good reputation. Both wanted to shoot, but the timing didn't really work, one is going to be out of town this weekend, the other is only off work on weekdays. So we decided to throw it open, and I posted an online casting call on one of the big web-model sites.

I tried to scare them away, wrote the post in a way that I hoped would discourage mainstream girls. I have no interest in doing cheesy glam. I really didn't expect to get a lot of responses.

To date, I've heard from 15 models, and the responses are still rolling in.

We've long since chosen four; two for the morning, two for the afternoon. I'm assuming that one or two will cancel, if not it will be a pleasant surprise... to be honest, a couple of these girls are reaching, they've very inexperienced. If their courage holds, they're going to gain some useful practice and add quite a bit to the quality of their portfolios. That's especially true for the one who has nothing now that even approaches technically competent. She said that she hoped I'd see potential in her despite the lack of experience, and I do. Actually, I'm excited about one of the four, and think it's possible to do good things with all of them.

Once past those four, it falls off quickly. There's one more that's cute and confident, but she's a glam girl, not my style. Actually most of them do cheesy glam, apparently they can't or don't read because the post ruled that out. Several want to "make it big" or become a "top model." These are serious red flags. If they want to be on the cover of Maxim... which is usually what this means... they're approaching the wrong photographer. Phrases like that also imply a lack of grounding in the real world, especially when they come from girls who are perhaps cute enough to get hit on a lot in bars, but who are in little danger of suddenly becoming charismatic. It's sad, in a way. Some of them sound like they want it so badly. What have we, as a society, created? I really would rather not be the one to break the news that it takes more than looks to get by in the world.

waiting

Yesterday morning, on the way out the door I grabbed a Leica and shoved it in my jacket pocket. By the time I made it to the edge of town, the fog had mostly burned off and the light was a little harsh, so I only took a very few photos. The idea is there, now I just need the right light, coinciding with enough time to do the concept justice.

Last night I thought about posting a casting call for Sunday, and then decided that I value the time more than I value the chance to shoot with another model. Especially after I saw a post by a model I've encountered before, said no to once before. She's fairly well known, but tends to be demanding and unpredictable. This time was no exception, she listed a couple of "needs" to shoot... and I don't need to shoot that badly.

So Thursday and Friday will be busy with work, then Saturday a friend is coming into town from Chicago, and I've promised to show her around San Francisco. Sunday, I'm probably going to go up to the hot springs and just read and relax. I'm feeling like I need that at the moment, as if the time off will recharge my creative ability more than the chance to shoot. Besides, the Kansas City trip is less than two weeks away, with seven or eight models currently clamoring for four slots.

texture and temperature

We meet at a coffee place in Sausalito. She had called a few minutes ago, said she was running just a bit late. Now she calls again as she walks toward me, and I recognize her immediately from her photos. While she's inside getting her coffee, I try not to look too often toward the state trooper sitting at the next table. Now she's back, coffee in hand. We decide she will follow me. She gets into her silver Mercedes and turns around.

About 15 minutes later, we're at one of the old bunkers. It's late afternoon, sunny and warm, but already cool in the shadows. She has most of her first outfit on under her street clothes, fishnets, a thong, a bustier. She opens her suitcase, and trades running shoes for boots. I begin to photograph her, tentatively at first, as we get to know each other.

She's a little over average height, thin, with breasts that appear to be artificially enhanced. But it's not her breasts I'm interested in, actually I'd be happier if they were a little smaller, a little more in proportion to her body. It's her attitude I'm interested in, the way she conveys that attitude.

I guess she's smart enough in a mainstream sense, she's apparently been reasonably successful in the business world. She's in her mid-30s, recently divorced, in a custody battle for the two kids. The clock is ticking, and she's ready to "spread her wings." That's whay she's created an internet model portfolio. That's why she says she wants to do something "edgy." She's from an upscale suburb, from a decade or more of very mainstream, very vanilla existence, after growing up in a small town. There's so much she doesn't yet know about. She doesn't have the abstract intelligence of my artist friends, she lives in the material world and not the conceptual one. So it's going to take a while for her to make the connections. She's seeing only the surface. But she's blessed with the right look, with sharp features, and with that attitude. That's why I contacted her.

We're done with that first outfit, I didn't like the bustier anyway, it didn't fit properly. She changes right in front of me, apparently she's not at all shy. The fishnets stay, she changes to a different thong, one with a skull pattern, and a black bra. I pull out a whip, a four foot snake, and after a few seconds of verbal lessons, let her play with it. Even as she holds it too tentatively, without any real confidence, she moves it effectively enough. The photos are fascinating, of a creature with a brand new toy. She tells me that she knows who she would like to use it on.

But she's told me that she likes to play both sides, so now she changes into white. We work with some steel bars over a window. She's much more at home in this role.

The light is beginning to fade now, and it's becoming cool. She had said on the phone that she didn't want to do nudes, but now she says she's going to take off the bra. First she changes back into black, and stands in front of a steel, grafitti-covered door. Now, what we've discussed, what she knows is coming. I tell her to walk backward, tell her she's going to lean against the cold steel in a moment. I capture the look of anticipation and fear on her face. Then I tell her to do it, and she does, without question. New expressions, all captured on film.

I bring her down the concrete wall, to where an iron ring is set into the wall. She's already off in a distant headspace, no longer very aware of the physical world. She doesn't see the handcuffs until I'm standing directly in front of her. She offers her wrists, and I snap the cuffs shut, attached to a silver chain running through the rusted iron ring. As I pull out the whip, she looks down at her wrists, brushes against the rough, cold concrete.

It takes only 10 minutes, and I never actually touch her. Instead, I talk about what might be, and document the reactions. I ask her to tell me her fantasies, and she does. They are the best images of the shoot. Finally, she has the presence to say that she's getting cold, and I've been aware of the shivering for several minutes. So I let her down immediately.

I begin to put my cameras away, turn, and see that she's walking in a slow circle, still half naked, still deep in her submissive headspace. I have to tell her to go get dressed, put something warm on. She snaps back to reality quickly then, and in five minutes we're both packed up and ready to go.

We sit in the car with the heat on full and talk for another hour. Then, she follows me back to the highway, and we go our seperate ways.

a fresh start

I need to write. So I'm back, having tried other methods, and found that they don't work as well for me as a simple blog.

This is where words and images meet, each serving a different purpose, striving together for greater heights than either could reach alone.

I've been a photographer, a philosopher, a wanderer, a rebel. I will be other things as well.