Touching the Flesh

PJ Harvey and Nick Cave - Henry Lee
Photo by Rocky Schenck
See the sensual music video here

I learned in my photography class to think about how the model(s) touch skin is important to the photo. We need to see how lightly or tightly we touch the flesh of ourselves or others. This touching adds to the narrative of the story by showing relationship, emotion, alertness, and closeness.

In my work, there are three levels of contact between flesh. They are:

"Kiss the Flesh" - This is when one touches the flesh so softly it is like a butterfly kiss. It is the softest touch around. It can be sensual, comforting, or just getting someone's attention.

Discovering
Photo by Karl

"Caress the Flesh" - This is when you rest your hand, or other body part, caresses the skin, maybe even cupping it. This can be a reassuring touch, a sensual caress, or just resting your hand.

Sigh
Photo by Karl

"Press the Flesh" - This is when one presses into the skin. This could be a grasp, a push, or many other possible examples. This can be sensual hold, a violent grab, or just the photographer resting his chin and jaw in his hand.

Prosperina
Bernini

While there are three degrees of touch, not including pinching, scratching, and other types of contact, there are numerous different messages from each. They can communicate love, caring, anger, caution, arousal, ecstasy, danger, sympathy, and concern among many other messages.

I think showing the touch is a crucial part of the photo. It helps make it human.

Below are examples of the three types. You decide the message sent by it. As you can see, they aren't always erotic, or even caring.

Other Times
Photo by Karl

A Taste
Photo by Karl

Truman Capote, New York, 1965
Irving Penn

Adjustments
Photo by Karl

Richard Avedon
Photo by Irving Penn

"Self Titled"
Photo by Karl

" "

Photo by Karl

Ian Mckellen
Photo by Nadav Kander

Waiting
Photo by Karl

Arm Grab
Photo by Pete Colm

Glamour?
Photo by Karl
Katie 3
Photo by Karl
L and H
Photo by Karl

Couple
Photo by Photobunny

Candace Nirvana 103109
Photo by Karl

Massage
Photo by John Wright

Resting Between Cameras
Photo by Karl

Untitled
Photo from Getty Images

Preliminary Motions
Photo by Karl

Andy Warhol's Scars
Photo by Richard Avedon

Untitled
Photo by Peter Denman

"F O"
Photo by Karl

Halloween

I Was Actually Happy
Photo of and by Karl

Halloween is a special holiday. So few of us know the history of this holiday and I am not going to repeat it, here is a Wikipedia link to it though. I like it because it is a time for us to be something other than what we are. I can be a cowboy, Darth Vader, Don Juan, Thor, or any disguise I choose. I appreciate this freedom to show a side of myself that is not seen or to take on a new disguise to experience it.

Maybe I like this because I get to be me. Maybe my disguise is what I wear everyday and my true self comes out Halloween. I've talked about a great scene from Kill Bill 2 where Bill talks about how Superman is different than any other super hero. He is Superman and his costume is Clark Kent. With all other super heroes, the opposite is true. Peter Parker wears a costume to become Spiderman.

I wonder if I am wearing a brilliant disguise everyday. Not all of the true me is seen since I am afraid how others will view me. This makes me sound like I have multiple personalities. I don't. I am Karl, but I have parts of me that are private. The more I think about it, maybe it is fine to have a part of myself that is mine to keep, be, and enjoy. That core bit of private self may be what makes us unique in this universe.

PHOTO NOTE - I was actually very happy that day. I was standing at the top of Mount Diablo and enjoying a perfect afternoon.

I've shared this video before. I really need to listen to this song every once in a while.

Bruce Springsteen - Brilliant Disguise
Uploaded by jpdc11. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

Minutiae that Eats Our Time and TPS Reports

The Quiet Times
Photo by Karl

My most valuable resource is time. I can earn more money, grow food, build a house, and find replacement resources for scarce ones, except time. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I am driving 12 mph in a dense fog of life. Every moment I am handling little things like sending an RSVP to a proposed meeting, faxing my TPS Report (with a cover sheet!), mailing the electric bill payment (actually done online), taking out the garbage, driving to an appointment, eating, sleeping, then repeating.




I am not whining too much since I put myself on this path of sludge. I need to figure out how to get out of it and get some inertia going. Hopefully I will be able to write posts more frequently as an outcome.

Photo note: Here is a photo from my first session with a nude model, Lisa. I really miss taking photos with my Hasselblad. Medium format offers such great detail and tonality.

Other's Blogs

Andrea 101909-01
Photo by Karl

I had a great weekend photographing my classmate Molly. She kept her clothes on, which worked well with the assignments. Maybe someday she will want to work sin ropas (without clothing). I will post a few photos of her after a bit of editing.

I want to share a few recent blogs I've discovered and think are important. They both are good reads and one has great photos, the other - no photos.

The first is Photo Anthems Blog. I appreciate this blog because of his eye for beauty and his sharing of personal day-to-day issues as a man, human, and photographer. He also shares many great Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. The blog owner describes himself as:

"I am an artistic photographer just settling into Las Vegas. As a former soldier, the mechanics of firing a weapon and a camera are essentially the same, so I naturally took to it. The majority of my work consists of artistic nudes. I photograph what I like and quite frankly, there is nothing more beautiful than the female form."

Another favorite blog is Nightmare Brunette. The author is a sex worker who shares her feelings, thoughts, and important stories from being an escort and a woman living in modern times. Her posts can be painful to read because of the raw honesty she shares about herself and those she meets in her life.

Here is a section from a recent post about aspects of her work.

I don't like calling this work "therapy" but I know it can be emotional medicine. Sometimes when I cup my palm around a scrotum or pull the pad of my fingers over a man's taint, he reacts in a way that makes me think no one has touched him there in a long time. I like finding those neglected spots and returning there so the first time doesn't seem like an accident. There is a way to touch another person that tells them "all of you is good, none of you is wrong, no part of you doesn't deserve acceptance." I know what that touch feels like, and it breaks open an inner yolk. You can actually feel the giving way inside, the slow flood of gold filling your heart. When I find someone who hasn't had that touch in a long time, giving it to them doesn't feel kind: it just feels decent.

I wish we could all learn to respect and try to love people with the idea that, "... all of you is good, none of you is wrong, no part of you doesn't deserve acceptance."

Have a great day.

Andrea 101909-01
Photo by Karl

Hi... My Name is Karl and I Photograph Nudes

She Runs My Life
Photo by Karl

I am tired of the SB (Side B) name. I took on a nom de plume to keep my anonymity. If they want to dig far enough, they will find my work anyway. I'll keep my last name private though.

Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) has been a part of my family for over three decades. I am very familiar with the anonymous part of stating, "Hi, my name is (insert first name here) and I am am alcoholic." Where upon every one replies, "Hi (first name)." I find it interesting that I am seeing parallels between admitting an addiction and owning this blog by saying I photograph nudes. Is creating art that scares puritanical fucks a disease? (Maybe I am overstating my work's value calling it "art", but I've seen worse.)

Maybe this admission is related to where I live. Living in the San Francisco area has to influence my perceptions of "living in truth." A person very close to me came out to her friends last year and to her ultra-conservative Catholic family last month. Her friends accepted it and most supported her. Her family reacted... like shit. By being her friend, they informed her that she, I, and all others who support her are marching in "Satan's Legion." I hope I am in the marching band, I did that back in high school and college.

So I guess I am slowly coming out of the closet to admit, "My name is Karl and I am an artist." My latent self-identification issues are boiling up. I wonder if I will share my fondness for fondue next. Why should being an artist and photographing nudes have any more stigma than my penchant for sticking food items into melted cheese.

Above and below are a few self portraits I did for my photography class. We could decide whether the intent was commercial or artistic. I went artistic. You may recognize my little ceramic lady from another photo series I put up here.

So, tomorrow I will return with a photo of a woman or two to help balance out all these male photos here today. Whenever quoting or referring to my blog, feel free to use "Karl," unless you feel you need to use "SB."

You Want Some of This?
Photo by Karl

The Real Me
The Who

I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.

Can you see the real me, doctor?

I went back to my mother
I said, "I'm crazy ma, help me."
She said, "I know how it feels son,
'Cause it runs in the family."

Can you see the real me, mother?

The cracks between the paving stones
Look like rivers of flowing veins.
Strange people who know me
Peeping from behind every window pane.
The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house.
Yesterday she passed me by,
She doesn't want to know me now.

Can you see the real me, can you?

I ended up with the preacher,
Full of lies and hate,
I seemed to scare him a little
So he showed me to the golden gate.

Can you see the real me preacher?
Can you see the real me doctor?
Can you see the real me mother?
Can you see the real me?

Can You See the Real Me?

Margaret
Photo by SB

It is raining here, really raining hard.
The beginning of this song sounds like what was hitting the window on my bus this morning. The song itself asks some good questions.

The Real Me
The Who

I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.

Can you see the real me, doctor?

I went back to my mother
I said, "I'm crazy ma, help me."
She said, "I know how it feels son,
'Cause it runs in the family."

Can you see the real me, mother?

The cracks between the paving stones
Look like rivers of flowing veins.
Strange people who know me
Peeping from behind every window pane.
The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house.
Yesterday she passed me by,
She doesn't want to know me now.

Can you see the real me, can you?

I ended up with the preacher,
Full of lies and hate,
I seemed to scare him a little
So he showed me to the golden gate.

Can you see the real me preacher?
Can you see the real me doctor?
Can you see the real me mother?
Can you see the real me?

As a guy who knows how to play in the bass clef, I really appreciate John Entwistle. He knew how to flow around the deep range on his bass guitar. This song really shows his bass guitar chops.

PHOTO NOTE: Margaret is a classmate. She has a natural beauty that I always want to capture. You will be seeing more of her.

Inspiration

Untitled
Photo by Edoardo Pasero

Sometimes I need to be reminded to keep it simple. I found this at the Art Nudes blog, the work of Italian Edoardo Pasero. Here is a link to my favorite series of his, Half Life.

Le Petite Mort - The Little Deaths

There
Photo by SB

As the final part of my "mini-deaths" series where I explore the idea of moments when our existence takes us out of the normal and maybe gives us a glimpse of death, or some other universe, I want to look at a positive one, "la petit mort" or "the little death." This is the one moment that has been evolutionarily programmed into us so our specie can multiply.

According to wikipedia, la petit mort is...

La petite mort, French for "the little death", is a metaphor for orgasm.

More widely, it can refer to the spiritual release that comes with orgasm, or a short period of melancholy or transcendence, as a result of the expenditure of the "life force".

What happens in that moment when we lose control of our physical body and the deepest human pleasure runs through us taking us to what some call "the little death?" Is this just a moment of physical reaction to stimuli with intense release of chemicals into our bloodstream? Is this a metaphysical moment, transcending the corporal being to a sensual spiritual existence?

As a scientist, I wonder why we evolved to have this moment of pure out-of-body ecstatic bliss that temporarily leaves us so vulnerable? It is a self-induced pleasurable mini-seizure. My thought is that if it wasn't something that every atom in our body both desired and then enjoyed, there would be little enticement for sex. Since this has been programmed into our coding for millions of years, we feel its pull stronger than any other instinct we have. I would even say it is stronger than the basic survival instinct because at that critical moment we are truly defenseless and both physically and mentally absent.

From a religious view, the orgasm may be a gift from the divine. It may be our one moment where we are in a divine state, a moment of baptism. It connects us to the life force we all share and are using to create life.

During the moment of orgasm, we go both into ourselves feeling every nerve release energy and also go outside of ourselves to a larger existence of pure pleasure. Well, at least that is how I feel. No wonder I write so much about sex .

I truly believe in the concept of "la petit mort." It is one moment we transcend our existence by succumbing to the most primal basic desires. Death is just a tad bit younger than life and it is one of the oldest organic conditions in our existence. Maybe by connecting sex to creating new life, the opposite of death, the orgasm gives us a taste of both in the blissful moment.


IMPORTANT NOTE: I mention sex and orgasm as a driver for procreation. I am not using this as an argument against the validity of gay and lesbian sex. I celebrate one of the outcomes of the sexual revolution that sex has risen above breeding in humanity and is a valued part of our personal self, no matter the orientation.
________________________________________________________

I found a website called Beautiful Agony where volunteers post videos of their own orgasms. What is unique about this is the lack of nudity or explicit activity. The camera focuses on the pleasure seekers face and neck only. It is fascinating to watch just the facial behaviors of both men and women during their peak moment. (There is a free preview clip on the left side) Like snowflakes, no two people have the same orgasm.

Having the blessing to see some one climax is beautiful and deeply personal. It is a moment where you are showing your true sexual self to another. As I mentioned in a previous post about "alone time,"

Some of the most intimately deep moments with a person were both of us together doing that. You have to feel very comfortable with the person to share that. I think intercourse is easier and less personal.

FINAL NOTE: In compliance with the FTC regulations, I am not getting compensated by Beautiful Agony for mentioning their site in my blog even though they offer it.

Human Administered Mini-Death

XY
Photo by SB

Yesterday I started a series on experiencing types of death while living. I had a dream where I died. Usually those dreams end there, but the dream went on with me being dead. This got me to thinking about times in life when we may experience aspects of being dead.

Dr. L shared her experience of drowning in the comments section. Z shared his experience of being so sick that death was desired. I think everyone who has lived a bit has had experiences related to their own death from around the edge. All these experiences show us different aspects of death. Mine was a dream, Dr. L's was actually dieing and coming back and Z's was being so ill as to desire death.

I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was fifteen. Since they were impacted and had not emerged through my gums, the orthodontist had to operate to get them out. I watched him set up the IV and flinched when the anesthetist stuck me. He then took a syringe and started pushing the anesthetic through the tubes and into me. We started chatting about high school and he asked if I was getting sleepy. Not a bit. I then watched him start to push the plunger and did not see him finish.

I remember slowly coming out of it in a recovery room. They got me up and walked me around a little and let me sit again. My mom got the prescription slips and we left. I could not feel any pain and did not believe they had done anything to me. I tried asking Mom why they didn't operate and almost choked on the gauze in my mouth.

As I sobered up I tried to remember the operation and nothing came to me. I could see the anesthetist push the plunger and that was all I could recall. Mom said they worked on me for over an hour. I could not believe her.

In my mind, I had been out for less than a minute. Most of that minute I remember was during my coming out. It disturbed ( and still bothers me) that I lost over an hour of my existence. For that time, I was gone from everything. Just my basic survival was there with my heart beating and breathing feeding my body with oxygen.

I've slept deeply before and always know that time has gone by after waking up. I've passed out from drinking and still knew time had passed. This was different and that is why I wonder what happened to my spirit or life energy during that time. I know I was not dead while under the knife, but a part of me felt I was gone.

A former boss and friend of mine had a serious kidney and liver infection. They had hospitalize him and induce a three-week coma while they filled him with antibiotics and other medicines. After he regained consciosness he felt the same thing. Time had not meaning while he was out. He had not heard his wife and son talk to him. He did not dream. He did not experience anything. The first thing he noticed was how dry his throat was as he came out. We talked about how wonders how he could not have any sense of life during that time. His time out was much longer than me, but I think we both had a similar experience of puzzlement.

My anesthetized time was not a near-death experience, but one of those moments I call a mini-death, where I got a view of another aspect of that life step. It was not the real thing or even view of it. It was not a deeply profound moment, but just a taste of the big end. Maybe it was like seeing a woman's beautiful legs in stockings with sexy heels on. That is nothing compared to sex, but it is a small morsel of it.

I Died vs. I am Dead - Mini-Deaths -Part 1

Well Played
Photo by SB

I've written about my nightmares before. In many of them I am killed. The most graphic dream of this sort was when I am unlocking my car door in broad day light. I take my keys out of the lock and in my peripheral vision I turn and suddenly there is a guy one foot from me who stabs me in the heart. He kills me instantly, dream flicks to black and I awaken hyperventilating.

I've died in many dreams from accidents, murder, and other nasty endings. Each one ends with the suddenness and finality of a song stopped mid beat. My light is turned off. Each is terrifying in its finality and instant switch from living to empty black void of nothing.

Last night I had a new dream. Not only did I die, but I was dead. In this dream I was in a room at a construction site with a group of people. My dog was there and suddenly I see a flash. A second later a narrator says, "You will notice no gore or pain. All fifteen of you were electrocuted and died instantly. " All of us in the room look at each other confused and then suddenly we see the images of us leading up to it and again, flash. We know we are all dead and having to see our last moments replay again and again. No gore, just seeing our last five seconds happen over and over. At one point we wonder if we can change the scenario by avoiding the situation that caused the electrocution. Nope, we are all dead and this is our eternity.

On my drive in today, I thought about this dream. It wasn't scary. I realized this was first time that I knew I was dead in a dream. I wondered if my Christian upbringing affected my interpretation of death and how this dream played. I thought about what death must be like. I do not know how to interpret this dream. This was the first time I internally learned the difference between died vs. dead. Died is the instant when life ceased. Dead is the result and lasts forever. That seems obvious, but I had never felt it in my core being. To die in a dream is scary, to know you are dead will make you think a bit.

After crossing the Bay Bridge, I switched mind gears and thought about moments in our lives when we have mini-deaths. These are moments when time has no meaning and we are out of existence. I came up with at least four instances this has happened and will write more on each over the next few days. Next will be human administered mini-death.

BLOG REGULATIONS

Very interesting article about how the FTC wants to regulate blog content. Here is a quick summary.

In new guidelines (PDF) released Oct. 5, the FTC put bloggers on notice that they could incur an $11,000 fine if they receive free goods, free services, or money and write about the goods or services without conspicuously disclosing their "material connection" to the provider.

This makes me wonder if the IRS will be next.

I just noticed the FTC emblem looks like a shield with a drug induced smile on it.

Added bonus - Great Magnum photo series on the "Red Dress."

Refound Treasures

Katie 100709
Photo by SB

I had class Monday night. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera battery so I worked in the computer lab and scanned some old negatives. I scanned all of my negatives of Katie, and a few from other shoots. Scanning negatives takes forever, but I am hoping I can use these for printing and putting up on this blog and my future website.

As I look at Katie's photos, good old memories come flooding back from the shoot. She is a special lady I only had the fortune to photograph once. For those who do not recognize her, look up at the mast head of the beauty laying on her back in the Berkeley November sun under the blog title. I've shared some stories of that shoot here.

The Self

A Glance into My Views
Photo by SB

Every photography class requires the photographer to take a self portrait. Grrrr... If I wanted to be the subject of my photos, I would be. Many greats (like Cindy Sherman) have created great art using themselves as a subject.

Sherman's photos are a great study into the stereotypes/archetypes of feminine roles. I really like her photos as a collection because they make me think of how I view women. By using her own vision of the model personified in herself, she created some timeless studies into feminist themes.

I am not Cindy Sherman. I don't mind others taking photos of me, but I don't enjoy seeing the photos. I don't know how to pose. I don't believe in myself as a subject in front of the camera. Maybe it is a control issue, I don't know.

Most of my self portraits are allegorical or representational with out me in them. Since this is a portrait class, those cheap escapes wont work. I have to be in them.

I studied under Kim Weston (Edward's grandson) for a little while. He once said that a photographer who takes photos of nudes, should themselves be photographed nude. This helps them feel both the trepidations and freedoms of the moment. I wont have time to lose the fifteen or twenty pounds I need to re-lose before doing that. I will need to figure out a way to capture me that I will appreciate.

For the future, I am thinking of experimenting with creating the male version of Cindy Sherman's work and create images of male stereotypes/archetypes. Before that though, I need to photograph some beautiful women again.


Photo note: Photo of and by Cindy Sherman is untitled. Top photo was a fun "self-portrait" to make.

Word, man... word.

Faint "Fucker"
Photo by SB

Here is an interesting article about "why it is so hard to put sex in the dictionary." Warning, the article is very graphic.

It is amazing how powerful words are. I can pummel, bludgeon, incinerate, exsanguinate, mutilate, flog, hang, draw and quarter, impale, shoot, and overall kill people with words that are readily defined in dictionaries. If I was gay, I could not "sixty-nine" though since that is a "blend of fellatio and cunnilingus."

This is further proof that prudes would rather know more about killing than sex. I guess sex is too dangerous for them to know about compared to decapitating.

" "
Photo by SB

Catching up and a Special Video

PJ Harvey and Nick Cave - Henry Lee
Photo by Rocky Schenck

I am catching up on others' blogs. So much rich content over at AFD and WWST over the past week. I have a few more favorite blogs to visit before I am caught up.

Last night in my portrait photography course, my instructor showed us the still and video work of Rocky Schenk. Here is his site. He had us watch a black and white music video Schenk created with Nick Cave and PJ Harvey. It is very erotic, loving, affectionate, and the visual message contrasts the message of the song and then blends with it showing opposites flowing into accents. Watch the rhythm and flow of the camera work and the natural fluid affection these two have while singing to each other.

Sadly I can not embed this video into this post. Go to this link and click on the little black and white photo entitled "NICK CAVE & PJ HARVEY - henry lee" to watch it. Imagine every individual moment in a still photograph. I am amazed they did this all in one take.