Wenchi

She contacted me last year, when she was 17. I stalled, didn't say no but didn't schedule, either. When I heard from her again a couple of months ago, she'd turned 18. I looked at her updated portfolio, and found that she'd posted some dramatically improved photos.

It took a while to arrange a shoot. I'm not in Sonoma County as often now as I was last year, and my recent visits have tended to be day trips on very short notice. We came close a couple of weeks ago, but once again our schedules missed by only a few hours.

I didn't expect it to work this time, either. I'd told her that I'd be in the area the early part of the week, but didn't yet know which day. As it turned out, I flew into Sacramento on Monday night, caught my connecting flight to Arcata, and managed to get a little over four hours of sleep before starting the drive down to Lucerne for a project site visit.

I'd messaged her late Monday night, giving her basically 16 hours notice that I'd be not too far away. Tuesday morning I found a response: "what time?"

It would need to be an after work shoot, because I had a busy day to complete first. The site visit went quickly and smoothly, and I stopped at the office long enough to meet with some people and write up a draft memo and send it to the client.

I finally meet Wenchi in person around 5:00. We talk, look at photos, pick a place to shoot... Marin Headlands... and stop at her house for a few minutes to pick up some things to bring with. Not much, it fits in a small bag. Surprisingly, traffic is light.

She takes two calls during the ride; the second is from another photographer. I need to infer the questions; where are you going, what kind of shoot are you doing? The answer to the second question, "artistic nudes," surprises me a little, because we haven't talked about this yet, but she's already decided.

It's warmer than usual at the location. We begin, and as I frame the first image and press the shutter release button, I feel the wall of energy. I know this is going to be good.

We talk during the shoot, she tells me a lot about herself. I don't believe all of it; but that doesn't matter, because as she says herself, reality is whatever we decide it is. Then the conversation spins deeper; we talk some more about the nature of reality, about nothingness, about self-affirmation, about ancient mysteries. She understands things 18-year olds aren't supposed to understand.

The shoot itself... she throws herself into it. She dances on the edge, leans out over the precipice, pulls herself back at the last second. Then starts the process all over again. The intensity, the energy, is unreal. She turns it on and off at will. Just when she seems strong, she confesses her weakness.

On the 45-minute ride back, she sleeps in the car. She has willingly let the camera steal her soul; now she looks like the little girl she no longer is. I realize that she's thrown everything she has into the shoot, until there is nothing left to give.

She burns so brightly. I've known people like her before, in my punk years. Some settled into a more sustainable pace. But not all of them made it. Some reached too far and disappeared into the darkness.

I fear for her.