|J. posted on the pure …hmm… aesthetic delights of
checking out the self portraits of others here. Damn Joy, you lit a fire under my little ass.
I’ve been self portraiting for 3 years now and the journey has been an empowering one. In my twenties I was often requested to pose for photographers and artists, did some nude modelling as a barter for learning technique from a well known sculptor…plunged into ..becoming comfortable with nudity as expression.
I never knew what others saw.They owned it…
This is a seminal distinction between being 25 and being 45.
A couple of years back, having turned the corner on 40, having experienced some severe traumatic loss…I decided to begin the art of self portraiture as as a means of taking back something of what was mine.
My first attempts were clumsy and humorous. Made a homemade tripod that resembled the leaning tower of picassa , attempted to take shots whenever and wherever I could find a modicum of privacy..think…a voice going ..what are you doing in the bathroom for so long?…
But I got better at it.Behind the lens and in front of it simultaneously I became comfortable with what I saw..cast off any aspersions to be a barbie doll cookie cutter version of what often passes for an acceptable nude…and dove into the reclamation of my cunt.
Yeah. This skin is mine..
it borders and defines my moods and moments
it begins and ends
By special invite only.
O solo mio
till this gypsy