I began to realize yesterday what a dream life I have. I am creating and living in a fantasy world that many people only dare dream to enter. Though some of the imagery may not always be that interesting, it is the process of creating it and the connection to the subjects that is really the fascinating part of this type of work. Since my regular work schedule has now shifted from mid afternoon to early evening, I am having to shift my shooting schedule to later evenings. There is something about shooting in a dark studio that becomes seductive and alluring. I mostly use a strobe system that over powers all light so it does not matter if I am shooting in a studio filled with daylight or at night only using the modeling lights from the strobes. I know the effect and how the light works so well, that I can perfect it without even seeing the actual results on the subject. But at night when the subjects are surrounded by darkness and they can only see themselves in the mirror across the room in the beautiful light I have bathed them in, something magical begins to emerge from their personalities as their inhibitions begin to drop. I tend to choose music that many people do not know, that has a hypnotic quality to it that allows the subjects to become lost and delve deeper within themselves. When the subject looks away and becomes unaware of my presence in the space and lets go of themselves these become moments I really look to capture.
Last night I was working with a 24 year old guy on the subject of alluring glances. That moment when you are in a dark, possibly a crowded space, and see someone across the room you desire, how you target your entire being into pulling them in and seducing them with a look. Once they connect, the hunt is on and the more powerful that seduction intensifies, through our eyes and body. At first I found it difficult to relate this concept to a 24 year old, because it’s not the way the younger generation connects anymore, but it was of my generation. But he soon got where I was trying to get and his alluring nature became intoxicating. The balance of light, the beautiful rugged texture of his clothing made me long to reach out and touch him, to hold him, to desire him, to pull him closer to me, and to enter his world physically, emotionally and mentally. It is this moment where the reality blurs into a sort of dream state, where all our senses become heightened and that passion of desire begin to reveal itself. When the photographer and subject can connect to each other on this level the imagery becomes very powerful, even to the unknown subjects who will eventually view these images. These are the moments I have always longed for and found most captivating within my own life. These are the moments I was most keenly aware of how powerful my presence and seduction was to others. It was a moment where the magnetism drew us closer, strangers in a dark lust, disrobing each other with our eyes, risking everything to expose our souls to someone else. Sometimes we have the courage to pursue it and cross the room to make that connection, but more often than not we don’t because we are inhibited by our insecurities. But the moment of that first glance, more often when we don’t connect with them in those sorts of situations, is what leaves an impression that sometimes can linger in our thoughts for a lifetime. I am at my prime when I reach this moment of memory in my photography when I can commit it to my imagery and that dream becomes a reality to someone else viewing.
When I met Glenn, 14 years ago, in this same sort of situation, and we were both young men, I remember vividly this is what pulled us together. That first kiss in the middle of a crowded room was breathless and the world around us stopped. It’s was that moment in West Side Story where Tony and Maria, who shouldn’t be together, do come together and the magic glow of a dream defying all odds begins. Unfortunately, that one ended in tragedy, but the beauty of that moment lingers forever and it’s what we remember most about the story and become haunted by, in the histories of our own memories.
I have a new kid coming to work with me this afternoon who wants to work as an apprentice. I met with him yesterday and we are on the same page. He has a history of working in male nude photography on actual film. I am still looking for others that want to become involved in getting The Naked Man Project up and running. I see how powerful it can become with others bringing their talents to the table. I have been feeling so overwhelmed for some time. I realized part of my greatest talent as a stage manager was coordinating large theatrical productions on the road and that I am actually quite a great manager and proficient at the delegation of projects. My vision is big and I realize that I can no longer create it alone. Plus I have a lot to teach others so the insight gained would be a great experience. I believe this will eventually become a community project, but first of all I need to get it up and running for myself.
Something in the air changes and it suddenly feels like fall. Labor Day is somehow that turning point weekend in the United States where the day after summer seems to disappear. It was the first football game of the season, the final family campout, and the last days of the rodeo. This morning I began putting together my fall schedule that will take me through to the end of the year. The University in back in session and I begin a new season of working on their shows tomorrow night. It is also the season when all the new students are back in town and I can begin my process of recruiting some new subjects. I need to get back into my studio again and begin shooting. It feels like I have been distracted the past month or so getting ready and going on the trip that I have not had much time to work on my imagery. I spent most of my spare time throughout the weekend pulling things together for the upcoming new website. It is progressing very well and we should begin putting it up on the server the next couple of days and then begin refining it. I am hoping to have something running by the end of next week, well at least the initial home pages and some of the galleries.
It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. We about 30 guests over to the studio late yesterday to watch the opening of the Griz football game on television at the studio. They were playing an upper division team from Tennessee. Needless to say we didn’t win, but it really wasn’t expected. Sometimes you just have to compete with others that are better than you to push yourself to a new level. I have not always been a football fan; in fact when I was in college I never attended a game. But when I started dating Glenn he was a huge football fanatic. Our hometown University of Montana team are known nation wide as the Grizzlies. They had been on an amazing winning streak for the past 20 years working their way to several national championships. So when I first met Glenn he said if we are going to be together you are going to have to buy season tickets to the Griz games, and we did. We have the most remarkable seats at midfield just a couple of rows above the home team. Conversely I told him we would also buy season tickets to the theatre. There is a nearby town that brings the National Tours of musical productions to our region. That year he saw Les Miserable, Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, Showboat, and Annie. Probably some of the best shows to be introduced into the power and spectacle of theater and I donned the apparel and entered the realm of college football. I can’t say how utterly captivated I became with going to football. At first I didn’t know much about the sport, in fact nothing. I saw them toss a coin at the beginning and then they would scramble and bash into each other, everyone yelling “get the quarter back, get the quarter back,” and I thought what a lot of fuss for twenty-five cents. No seriously it was not quite that bad but I love that story. There was something about football that rocked me to my core. There is a collective patriotism that fills a sea of people that utterly overwhelms your senses. It becomes a visceral reaction of the most primal nature as bodies collide in a test against strength and strategy. To see men, so well tuned in body, mind and spirit to put every once of their being into a team effort to come out of top as a winner. I realized my life has been this focused in mind and spirit but not body. Football for me also appeals to my core erotic psyche that is also very stimulating. Hot men in overly tight uniforms that show off all the greatest assets of their youth and manhood, out there struggling with each other. I very quickly became obsessed with the sport and fell in love with football. Eventually learning the strategy of the game. I actually bought a book on Football for dummies that I read in secret to bring myself up to speed of all the various positions, rules and plays. I remember Glenn found the book in my office and came out with a sheepish grin. I guess he knows it was love as he found my closet desire to learn more about something he was so passionate about. Football has also brought me closer to my father, because along with our seats I added another for my father. I knew he was very passionate about the sport playing in high school. Suddenly we had found a commonality and it was one of the things that broke that ice between us, opening the world of communication between us. My fascination with football has waned a bit over the past couple of years because as I have begun to put my focus elsewhere, more into my art. But there is defiantly a raw, venerable sensuality that exudes and inserts it’s way into my work and gives me a fearless strength to boldly pursue it.
I am beginning to see and recognize that I have always lived in the shadow of others. It feels most of my life has been connected to something or someone else. This past weekend I have been cleaning all of my old stuff out of the attic of the old place. Boxes and boxes of things I have collected over the years. Things I had forgotten, or better yet thing I had perhaps wanted to remain forgotten. I have been a person who has kept a petty extensive journal of my life, and so there are boxes and boxes of handwritten pages from all the days of my existence, probably the silly scrawling of a boy living in a world of misunderstood angst. The first box I began to explore seemed to contain all the images of my youth I had forgotten. I opened a pouch to discover my high school graduation pictures from Superior. The person in them was not at first recognizable, but it was unmistakably me. I stared at these images, transfixed for a long time, trying to connect to this mistakable past. In the images I was happy, content, my eyes filled with innocence and hope. Oddly enough this is not the way I remember myself. For some reason I could never see the handsomeness of a lad fill with creative zest. I have always felt it a burden to be different, odd, queer. You see I had a bother that was a year and a day younger than me. But I had somehow failed the first grade and was doomed to repeat it thus putting me at the same level as my younger brother. Mark was perfection in every way, blond hair, blue eyes, athletically inclined, the joy of my father’s life, he could do nothing wrong. He was vibrant and outgoing, everything I was not. Looking back, I become creative so as to not compete and allow myself to become original. I loved to read and often escaped through stories, I now see my creative nature was maybe also a means to escape. I was gangly, uncoordinated and often humiliated and intimidated by the other kids. You see, being one level back mentally and emotionally, I was still one level ahead in the physical development of my body and growth. And now looking back, I realized that I had lived all those years in the shadow of my brother, not thinking I was good enough to succeed only to become to oddball of our family.
