Le Corps de la Mode

 Paris, France.

This exhibit was everything. It allowed the audience to move through the evolution of the model. 

From the mannequin to the muse to the waif. And back again.

    
 I don't think these girls eat cheese. Actually, I don't really thing they eat anything, but never the    less, this photo is magnificent. Magnificent in the most ironic, candid way. Anti-glamour honesty.
 

  How could one be in love with both these photos? They are opposite. Yet, they excel in their  context. Nudity executed perfectly should last a life time, I truly prefer shape in females.
Androgyny is beautiful, yet only if it is natural and very little is. The lines have been blurred.


 Then there was this Italian lady and her hat/glasses/shoes. Wanted to befriend her.
      

The 3rd Summer of Love

Kate 1990.

Corrine Day/ Forever Please.

(If this is the first time you have seen this photo. I feel for you, as I cannot imagine how many other things you have not seen in your lifetime)

     The good, the bad and the ugly. AKA. Naomi. Claudia, I have no idea. Either way a fail.

     Audrey on set.

Actual model board. I hope it was stolen.

  Before we had internet. Before we had every technology known to man. We had
      scissors and glue, arts & crafts in the editors office.

        The best cover I have ever encountered. Down hill from here.

      Verusuka: "Diana Vreeland would always say, 'you look sad Versuka smileee, smile my sad eyes'
       I just didn't know how.  I think there is a beauty in sadness. Unique beauty. Unlike, happiness"

     Twingy in Paris.

          This was right outside. From the 70's. Perfectly preserved.
       I went in with a stranger. We had too much laughs and I forgot to take the photos. True Story.

And this. This was the end. The last we saw. Why does it stop you and force you to think? 

 Because that's how you define a great photograph. 

 And this? This will continue to surpass decades.

This is how we still ultimately define great beauty.

Il Vous Va Si Bien...

I need a muse.
Life looks better on them. What is a photo without a life on the other end? Dead space, a dead place.
Gardens are life. unspoiled, uncomplicated beauty.

This occurred to me after visiting one of the most decadent palaces the world has ever known, my future residence. Versailles.
After counting twenty-seven chandeliers in the first hallway, I became dizzy and stopped. As I made my way onto the sidelines, I simply watched and became suspended in disbelief by the waves.
I watched them gawk and move like cattle, as every type of technology swung from their drone like posture. Hands. Necks. Arms. Sway. Nausea was accentuated by the decadence of glass.

At that moment my battery died. Never been happier.

The waves killed any beauty I wanted to capture. Trampled it really.
I do not want to share what I see. I do not want to document.
Can these countless cliches ever be captured without dying and repulsing me each time?

I need a muse. 
Without one there is no reflection.

Instead, I offer you someone I could only aspire to fall short of, Ryan McGinley.

'A Promise at Dawn"

Is it lonely being a photographer?

"Oh it’s totally lonely. Being so passionate about something that feels more important than anything else in the world, and it also takes up all my time. You have to learn how to function as a human being and to relate to people without a camera. See there’s this box of magic that I have, and when it’s in my hands I can relate to people, have discussions, go on adventures and ask for anything. Without it I have a hard time operating."


My hiatus should end shortly.
As I only need a muse, not a face.

Carousel

 It's been one month. 31 days.
 I could now engage in child like conversation, yet in matters of commerce of course.
Phrases such as,"How much for half a kilo of trail-mix / apples / that-strange-looking-cheese?" and "I bought my (insert any electronic device) yesterday and it's broken. Please fix. ".
                           
...At least I now understand the origins of chain smoking.
                                                              On Beauty?

    Well the night and the day belong to two different beings. There in opposition.
                       Life vs Enlightenment.
                      Never-ending amounts of cultural activity are constantly in motion.
            Dizzying really, like a carousel.

       And me?  I'd rather people-watch, with a four euro bottle of Merlot in one hand
               and my camera in the other...

Oh! And I now love music and butter equally. Maybe butter more.  Listen and scroll lovers x

   

 

  

First Signs of Paradise

You never love the things you thought you'd love. C'est vrai...

You actually look at them and wonder why you thought you'd ever love them at all.

They are beautiful, magical if you will, but yet..

Instead, we realize that the beauty lies beyond each cliche, each one a new disappointment.

Although magnificent, they have been shared by too many to make them your own.

If your fortunate you come to understand this early on.

Your first signs of paradise will have to come through your own misadventures. 

Lost in Translation.

But no matter where you travel, I always trust a simple bath of natural light will temporarily suffice.

   My causal encounter with this prolific monument.

Such an image becomes a mimicry of itself.

Forget what you want here. Forget what you thought you knew. It only wakes up at night.

   
After all the long time curiosities have been met, you would naturally, slowly, chip away at the simplicity of this culture. A culture which is so deeply rooted in a passion for aesthetic perfection that to be any other way, would equate to death. There will always be a strange little paradise around every corner that one can make their own.