Archive for February, 2011
The first time I met Asia was at the bar, and from the stage she asked me — in front of about 300 people — if Jay enjoyed my “taint tickler.” While I might blush easily, it’s actually pretty hard to embarrass me, but this did it. I’m sure her physical presence played into this. Asia’s natural height, plus high heels and the right hair, puts her at about eight feet tall; and she’s sometimes called “Indiana’s Largest Living Indoor Attraction.” She’s captivating, breathtaking, and intimidating all at the same time, and she knows it.
Since then, I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed taking one or two of my out-of-town models to Talbott Street, where Asia’s height and attention (often a “How YOU doin’?” in a voice so low it could rival Vin Diesel’s, followed by an invitation to play with her hairy nipples) have left me amused at their own states of flabbergastedness.
And I’m sure you know where this is going: I’ve also always said that one day, I HAD to have a photo shoot with Asia. We finally made it happen.
Asia loves the last photograph enough that she’s replacing the portrait she currently has in the show lounge with it. I can’t wait to see it hanging.
I have no idea who this man is, I found him on Wicked Gay Blog. But talk about the perfect fit for my Gods series . . .
I woke up at 5:30 this morning and never went back to sleep. Instead, I just lied there. I noticed that Jay wasn’t in bed and looked to my left, where I saw the reflected dim glow of the laptop hitting the bedroom door, meaning Jay was in the living room and not asleep either. This isn’t unusual; he spends a lot of time online in the middle of the night.
I started stewing. What are we going to do if our house sells before one of us has a job in Chicago? Where are we going to live, in the meantime? I’m too old to move to a new city without a job; that’s something you do in your 20s. But do we put our stuff in storage and beg for mercy and spare bedrooms here among our friends, or rent a cheap apartment month-to-month? Or just tempt fate and go for it? When we get to Chicago, what about our cars? Sell both? Keep one? Who’s going to give Lucy her fluid treatments? My current vet’s going above and beyond the call of duty by not charging me to administer those. I suppose, if I had to, I could learn how to do it. But I’m not at all keen on sticking needles in my dog.
What if I get this gallery show in New York — I haven’t told you about this before, but there’s a growing chance that a gallery in SoHo wants my work in May or June. I think it’s a done deal, the gallery directors are just trying to decide if I get a solo show or join a group show. Don’t get my wrong, this would be the apex of my photography career, but it’s still causing angst. (How many photographs would they want? How much is it going to cost me to print/frame/ship them to New York? Two thousand? Three thousand? More? I’m already in more debt than I’ve ever been in my life.)
I know, these are minor things. They are nothing more than a few minor obstacles, of which there’s always a few to overcome before achieving a major goal. And I’m probably suffering from a slight disbelief, still (or fear of success?). After to many years of feeling “stuck,” I had convinced myself that I was going to die in Indiana, and a year ago the prospect of having a gallery show in New York was nothing but a pipe dream.
These are good things, even if they come with a lot of what-ifs and how-tos to work through. But it’s still going to wake me up at night.
Jay found a link to this blog, James Franko, which has a great photo series on it by photographer Joe Oppedisano . . .
You can click the photo above for a larger version.
Photograph this post copyright, Joe Oppedisano.
Looking at the list of men who have posed for me, I’ve been noticing lately that for a lot of them, I am their “first.” I am the photographer they work with in Indiana before they move on to bigger and better things. I can literally go down the list (Chicago, Minneapolis, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Chicago, New York, New York/Miami, Atlanta, Washington DC, San Francisco, New York. . .) and it’s really kind of surprising how many of them are gone.
And now here’s AJ, who was recently in my studio for the first time, and who I’m very excited to be working with again sometime soon — before he moves to Miami.
If you like, you can see more photos of A.J. on my website at the Models: Men gallery.
- I know it’s judgmental, but I’ve never met a guy named Ted who wasn’t a profound jack ass. Introduce me to a Ted and you’ll see my hackles go up, and I’ve yet to be wrong.
- In the same vein, Natalies are usually annoying, but not nearly as bad as Teds.
- I like Nicks. I’ve never met a Nick who wasn’t cool. Todds are almost always cute.
- If you looked at my list of guys that I’ve been, ahem, “intimate” with, the most common name is Jay, tied with Chris. Also multiple Kevins, Jeffs, and Brians.
- The most biblical names on said list are Jesus and Abel.
- I’m not telling you how many men are on this list. But I know.
- If I were to have kids, my daughter would be named Katherine and my son, Christian. I love the latter name, despite the fact that I’m not one.
- I’m turned on by guys who cook, write well, wear white socks, play guitar, and run on treadmills.
- I’m turned off by guys who sing, golf, wear loafers, play poker, or run on the street.
- I’m very turned on when a guy calls me, “bro.” But I’m completely creeped out when a guy calls me, “brother.”
- It’s rare for me to be turned on during a photo shoot. I’m working then, and not paying attention to the naked man. I’m not saying that it never happens, but it’s rare.
I’ve launched a second website for my photography, this one capturing most of my fine art male nudes in one place. There’s also some more erotic imagery here that you probably haven’t seen before. I figured that since both the calendar company and magazine I’ve been working with deal with more provocative work, I can’t be afraid of it, anymore.
Click the photo of my new homepage to be taken to the site. And please let me know what you think.
My goals from here are to make my primary site more PG-13 and this new site more NC-17. The new site is also not branded with my name, so if I decide to get an office job in our new city, prospective employers won’t be as likel yto find it and have a problem with it. Then again, any organization that did have a big problem with my photography is probably not a good fit for me in other ways. But you know what I mean.
The theme in entertainment news this week seems to be how movies suck now (I’ve seen three articles about it, and “CBS Sunday Morning” just previewed a story for next week on the subject). What’s funny is that the other night, before I saw any of this, Jay and I were driving back from the gym and I was talking about how so many of my favorite movies were made in the 1970s . . .
- One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – (1975)
- A Clockwork Orange – (1971)
- Taxi Driver – (1976)
- Annie Hall – (1977)
- The Exorcist – (1973)
- Young Frankenstein – (1974)
- The Conversation – (1974)
- Halloween – (1978)
- All That Jazz – (1979)
And there’s still a substantial list of movies from that decade that I want to see, and haven’t . . .
- The Deer Hunter – (1978)
- Network – (1976)
- The French Connection - (1971)
- Last Tango in Paris - (1972)
- Nashville - (1975)
- Being There - (1979)
- Shampoo - (1975)
- Marathon Man - (1976)
- Klute - (1971)
- Midnight Express - (1978)
So where did the good movies go? The smart, edgy movies, with intelligent dialog and unpredictable story lines and characters that didn’t seem to be such caricatures? Here are two articles that Jay found, which both say that Star Wars ruined it for everybody. After reading the articles, I can’t say I disagree.
What makes this more depressing is juxtaposing the two lists I made above with this list of movies we’ll be “talking about” this summer (comic book, slasher film, sequel, sequel, sequel, comic book, sequel, comic book, sequel, remake, sequel, mindless entertainment, sequel, comic book, graphic novel, Jennifer Aniston). That makes me want to cancel my Netflix account. This is really the best we can hope for?
I’ve been a fan of Hugo Fernandes’ photography for a while now and was hoping I’d have the chance to see either him or his work in person at the GLAAD Auction last fall. That didn’t pan out, but serendipitously I have been able to have a couple of email exchanges with Hugo. I’m always intimidated when I start a conversation with a photographer that I admire this much, and yet I found Hugo to be easy to talk with and kind.
On his website, his work is divided into two categories, “Intimate Strangers” and “Untitled Encounters.” Photos from both are below. I find Hugo’s work to be lush, gorgeous, personal, and sexy.
All photos in this post copyright, Hugo Fernandes.
A few months ago I allowed The Connection in Louisville — which has to be one of the biggest gay bars in the universe, by the way — to use a few of my photos for advertising. He asked what I wanted in return and I said, “Send me a model.” I was half kidding because people never follow through on conversations like that. But this one did, and last week Jessie, a go-go boy and porn actor, drove up for a shoot.