Ajaye

I am not interested in rules and conventions... photography is not a sport. If I think a picture will look better brilliantly lit, I use lights or even flash. It is the result that counts, no matter how it was achieved.   ~Bill Brandt

Izzy & Dessa

These are older shots that I've re-worked from scratch. There were some details that I think I overworked, and some details that I added which I now think were unnecessary. Sometimes it takes me a few years to realize that I didn't get it right the first time. Actually, it often takes me a few years to realize mistakes, and I rarely get it right the first time.

Sofia & Cammy

Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body. ~Martha Graham

Lee

There is something about this image that I find delightfully strange. A nice combination of awkwardness, elegance, and tension. It is not posed— posing is something that I've been avoiding for a long time, as I think that it tends to lead to stilted and artificial images. I make my models work, constantly moving and trying to get over self-consciousness. They never seem to mind, since they can appreciate that I am willing to work just as hard. I'd be lying, of course, if I said that I entirely avoid posing— I'm a sucker for a strong image of an obviously professional model working it, which makes things easier for me at the same time. I really do try to avoid it, though. That's when I get images like this...

Suhanisa

Full disclosure: I’ve always been a cropper. Having started with film and spending years developing black and white photos, cropping in the darkroom always felt natural. To me, it also felt necessary to accomplish what I wanted to. This despite being vehemently told otherwise by others— they said that cropping was a cop-out for not being able to get it right in the camera, and it was a form of lying. Of course, that's B.S. All photographs are lies, all photographs are crops. My definition of a photograph is to add edges to the world which has no edges. But, none the less, I had guilt about cropping. I realize now that a “perfect” rectangle or square— pulled back so you see the edges of the negative in the exposed print (to “prove” you haven’t cropped) is basically a parlor trick. Over time I've seen the work of many photographers who don't crop beside the camera— and I honestly feel that while they may sometimes get an image that looks pure and wonderful, usually their compositions in the majority of their work are kind of (if not very much so) seriously lacking. So, yeah, I crop. Not always, sometimes just a little, and sometimes a lot. Sue me. All these years later, I look back with no regrets about it.

Ramonita

If you are a 100% amateur, shooting might be as simple as your photos existing to make yourself happy. Or to preserve memories of your friends, family, and experiences. For a pro, it might be as simple as earning a paycheck— and nothing more. While I've met a couple that is one or the other, the real world tends to have more shades of gray. Most photographers fall somewhere in-between. I think that I've always been right in the middle— in fact, most people might have a hard time telling the difference among images that I've been paid for or not. The truth is that I've often been paid for work that looks very personal or even indulgent. I never really cared, because I (mostly) have not needed to— clients tend to come to me with a trust to let me do my thing because that's what they want. I definitely have always appreciated that...

Ajaye

I've had an avid interest in photography as an art form since childhood— I read National Geographic and Life from my grandparents' subscription and collection (which went back to the mid-50's) since I was as young as I can remember. I suppose that my inherent interest in photography has surely been influenced by that. In fact, there is one NG cover in particular—  Steve McCurry's Afghan Girl from 1985, which is probably the first photographic portrait that had an immediate and lasting effect upon me. I've never forgotten it, and it's most definitely in the back of my mind whenever I'm doing portraits.

Katie Marie

The fingers must be educated, the thumb is born knowing. ~Marc Chagall

Maeve

I made a version of this where the scar has been removed, but this un-retouched version is infinitely more interesting.

Grace

Imagination versus creativity...  imagination for most people connotes an ability to envision something before or without it existing. As a photographer, that usually means pre-visualizing an image or developing a concept. To me, something new and/or interesting can be photographed, but I tend to utilize creativity instead of imagination. For instance, Jackson Pollock (although I can't attest to how his mind worked) could have done his paintings on intuition alone but possibly without imagination. Full disclosure: imagination is something at which I have long sucked at. I have long seen myself as having very little imagination, yet being very creative. Years ago I painted, but I would sit and stare at a canvas with no clue what to do. I tried splatter painting, but the results were (duh...) pathetically derivative. When I finally picked up a camera I knew that was what I was meant to do. Voilà— I could suddenly create without having to pre-visualize. Many photographers are good at imagining concepts, of course, but that was never my bag (I usually find photographic "concepts" to be cheesy). I prefer to work off of intuition— pick up the camera and shoot. Having the skills necessary to create something, be it a wooden sculpture or an interesting image, is just as valid— and necessary, as being imaginative.

Natalie

Milk. It does a body good.

Lucy & Nathalia

A naked woman in heels is a beautiful thing. A naked man in shoes looks like a fool.   ~Christian Louboutin

Surgical Grade Enema Syringe

I was taking close-ups of BDSM paraphernalia during downtime at a dungeon shoot...

Natalie

Janet Leigh never took a shower again in her life after starring in Psycho.

Kati Kill

Keeping old negatives, and their digital equivalent (computer files) isn't just a hoarding obsession for me. I look back over both on a regular basis, and I tend to find missed gems more often than not. I've shot so much over the past 30 years that even going through a small portion is time-consuming. It is consistently worth it, though— I'll typically spend an hour looking, and find a couple of nice images. It's like doing a shoot and getting a couple of great shots, but without having to do an actual shoot. I've always realized that something that I like at the moment I may dislike later (sometimes intensely) while something that I might have overlooked I've found to be quite a prize (better than my original picks). This image is actually ten years old, but I just made a finished version of it today. I probably thought that it was too unflattering to the model. That is something that I'm not at all concerned about these days. People that I shoot with now tend to be very aware that if I'm not flattering them, at least it will most likely be a powerful image worth more than just a pretty picture... plus they'll get some pretty ones anyway.

Ramonita

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.  ~William Shakespeare
                           

Natalie

I made this look like a Collodion Wet-Plate process, which was an early photographic technique invented by Frederick Scott Archer in 1851. It is a process still practiced today, but I was pretty happy to achieve a digital version of it— despite that,  I would rather be able to achieve it the real way. Another day...

Percolate

I feel as if there is something poetic about this one.

Li

The charm around black and white has a lot to do with the past. The old masters of 19th and 20th-century photography shot in black and white and locked it all into timelessness forever. But one should keep in mind that the practice of black and white in the past was also a product of technical limitation. Photos were taken in black and white up until the 1930's and really often up into the 1970's until color film was technically perfected. Technicolor may have been aesthetically pleasing, but far from technically perfect. From that I believe there is a perception that black and white is history; realistic color is contemporary. Or, if you shoot black and white you are creating; if you shoot color you are documenting. B&W is not more difficult than color with digital. This might be true of film negatives, but not so much with digital. I ask myself, though— historically, why wasn’t there a shitload of black and white painters? If B&W is all about paring things down better than color, why didn't Leonardo try a few B&W paintings? My guess is that he and others were satisfied with drawings to fill that need. That leaves me wondering about if photography had started with color (as painting did), would B&W be considered a gimmick rather than pure? As it is, monochrome has always (for better or for worse) made the photo seem more artistic and genuine than color.

Ramonita

A very frequent question that I get is "what equipment do you use?", or "you must have a great camera". Whenever I hear that I smile and think yes I do have some great equipment— but, honestly, there is a bit more to it than that. A good amount of the "more to it" is me; the rest is a complex and often changing mixture of tech. Over the years I've noticed that no matter what equipment I'm using (and it's been changed up a lot) is that my work continues to bear my distinct fingerprint. The same goes for just about any photographer that has developed a style, even if they happen to be of a low-tech variety. If you hand a complete amateur the best equipment money could buy the result will not look all too much different than if it was shot with an iPhone. Hell, it would probably look better with the iPhone, because that is a camera that is purposely designed to make things as easy as possible for a novice...

Kacie Marie

Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering— because you can't take it in all at once. ~Audrey Hepburn

Grace

Something that I rarely do— I planned this shot out ahead of time, magazine cover style, purposely leaving ample negative space at the top for the type. I've actually done a couple of calendars for hire in the past, one of which was girls in bikinis on motorcycles... you won't be seeing any of those on this blog.

Jade Vixen

To most people, vintage photos are often interesting simply because they're old. There's an other-worldliness to relics of past eras. It's exotic. It's like how a foreign accent makes someone more alluring and attractive. It’s that mystical feeling you get looking at an old castle or cathedral. It's not a part of your general everyday experience and therefore it's enchanting. Likewise, we tend to associate authenticity with the style of a bygone photo because they have stood the test of time. They describe a world past— and, as such, they have earned a sense of importance. In short, this probably sums up why I enjoy making my own images look like they are actually vintage. The key is that they have to definitely look genuinely classic in every way, down to every detail— otherwise, the illusion is broken...

Suhanisa

Color or b&w— the dilemma. Personally, I indulge more into b&w. I've always done both, though. With film, you had to decide beforehand. With digital, you can compare both, and go with what you think works better. You still have to make that decision, though. I started this blog five years ago with the conscious decision to keep it all monochrome here, as a way of forcing myself to stick to some strict rules. One less thing to think about... and it looks like I'm passionate about something at the same time. Which I am— I'm lazy and passionate at the same time! This work tends to lend itself more to monochrome anyway... but sometimes an image does work better in color (or sepia). If that is the case, I typically don't include it here. Why show an inferior version?

Sonia

How did it happen that clicking "like" has become the highest response to art? I don’t want you to “like” my art. I want you slow down and be moved by it. I want to make you think. To perhaps make you uncomfortable. I want it to raise questions. Or stir people to wonder. If not my art, well, then the art of someone else... and I want your art to do the same. It’s a noble and worthy goal. Part of the way that I started down the road of this craft was tearing images from magazines and putting them into scrapbooks. I collected photography books. I revered those images. I lived with them and thought about them for years. I knew the names of the men and women that made those incredible images and I wondered what it would take to be as them. It never occurred to me to ask what lens they used because I suspected deep down that whatever it took to makes those images was so much more a part of the artists themselves than the particular gear. It had something to do with determination, grit, a stubborn & patient refusal to do anything but whatever it took to make the photograph. I wonder if they got to their best work because they were busy doing it— not posting their initial successes on Instagram instead of digging deeper. Instead of taking the long slow road to mastering a craft. We are not teaching people to revere our work. We’re putting it so quickly into the world and it’s forgotten almost as fast. We’re treating it as though it’s disposable. Shoot. Share. Move on. There so often seems to be so little room on screens for depth. Please understand that this is not a rant against social media. As so many others do, I use it, and it has it's place. No, this is not a rant, it’s a plea— that we transcend social media and do something more with our work. It’s a plea to print our work, and live with it, and be slow to sign it. The way it used to be done, for a good reason. It’s a plea to put it in books or in places we can thoughtfully react to it, not merely consume it as typical mass media. Don't just fluidly scroll through, and occasionally click "Like". Slow down and thoughtfully react.

Meira

Each time I pick up a classic camera, I am awestruck at the craftsmanship and build quality that these old devices have. Cameras from the early to middle of the 20th century were created by craftsmen (and women) who paid close attention to the various gears, levers, dials, and switches inside and out of each camera. Whether you’re talking about a Bakelite Kodak Brownie or a Rolleiflex, there was care put into every part. Some went through war (literally), got wet, banged around, dropped, exposed to heat and moisture, or had any other number of things happen to them which affect their functionality. It never ceases to amaze me that these devices which are older than I am and sometimes more than double older than me, still work as good as the day they were made. Often, to me, the lens scratches and light leaks of an old and beat up camera can add a certain organic quality to the images made now. What other types of product can honestly say that after half a century, gets better with age?

Little One

I get tired of seeing commentary about film versus digital— as in one is better than the other, or that one should learn film if you want to truly understand/master digital. B.S. I've been shooting film for 30 years and digital for 15+ (I've been using Photoshop since 1991). Film photography and digital photography are not the same things. They're definitely related, but they ultimately deviate from each other. They are two completely distinct media that should be used for particular reasons. They require totally different thought processes, methodologies, and workflow. One needs to keep in mind what one wants for the final result, or what one wants to get out of the process (both for the appreciation and result of that process). If you want a darkroom print, shoot film. If you're fine with an inkjet print, shoot digital. Et cetera. Personally, I can appreciate aspects of both. If you like shooting film, shoot film. If you like digital, shoot digital. One isn't inherently better or worse than the other. They're simply different. Despite what so many might say, one isn't necessarily harder or more tedious than the other. That depends on how they are used in practice! For instance, I know for sure that I often spend a lot more time in post-processing a digital shoot than I often would for a film shoot. Or it could be vice versa. There are fashion photographers that use point & shoot film cameras and have a lab do the processing for them. Conversely, there are digital shooters that can spend days on a single image. You can go back and forth about both, but at the end of the day, you can't make an absolute statement about either regarding which is harder. That's a relative thing. Although many people can spend less time with digital or film, in the end, the final results speak for themselves, for better or for worse. My advice would be to take technical guidance, but make your own decisions about what to shoot and what to shoot with. Do what works for you. If you want to blend the two (something that I like), blend the two. Beware of self-righteous and self-styled gurus. Hourra pour le Choix!

Jolene

"I like the architecture of lingerie."  ~Colleen Atwood

Ramonita & Suhanisa

Slightly new style developing. Not the diptych thing— I've enjoyed making diptychs now and then for over twenty years. The mixture of low contrast and higher contrast in one shot is my new thing of the past year. My modus operandi has always (96 times out of a hundred) been to use a dark background and then light the subject in whatever way works. Here the background is high key and the subject is softly lit. I'm a creature of habit— little changes can be a big deal for me...

Suhanisa

Darling, the legs aren't so beautiful, I just know what to do with them. ~Marlene Dietrich

Joe & Lissa

In 1952 the photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson published Images à la Sauvette, which roughly translates as “images on the run” or “stolen images.” The English title of the book, The Decisive Moment, was chosen by publisher Dick Simon. Cartier-Bresson had already proposed that concept— it just didn't sound good in French as a title. It is one of the most fascinating and highly debated concepts in the history of photography. This moment occurs when the visual and psychological elements of people in a real-life scene spontaneously and briefly come together in perfect resonance to express the essence of that situation. Some people believe that to be the unique purpose of photography— to capture this fleeting, quintessential, and holistic instant in the flow of life. For this reason, many photographers often mention the decisive moment, or similar ideas about capturing the essence of a transitory moment, when they describe their work. It is an idea that has always driven me, even before I knew it was a thing. since it tends to be an intuitive process when it comes to contemporary photography (after one could get a shot in a second, or faster). Once I realized that it was a "thing", I've never stopped thinking about it. The main idea, though, for me, is that a DM image doesn’t occur as an isolated shot. There are no photographers, even the great ones, who go out with their cameras, take one spectacular DM photograph, and then return home. The DM image emerges in the context of an entire shoot of some kind. Some photography sessions lead to a great DM shot, and some don’t. I like to call it "hunting for the shot, while mostly missing". Getting it, though, is such a wonderful feeling.

Percolate

I shoot so that others can see the way that I view the world, and I follow other photographers so that I can see the way that they view the world. I shoot to freeze moments. I shoot because my imagination is terrible. I shoot to enjoy life in a different way. I also shoot because I regret that when growing up my family didn’t take a lot of pictures, and so as an adult, I do. Shooting, of course, allows me to express my creativity... I really wanted to leave this out because it almost seems too obvious. I do not shoot people because the eye is a window to the soul— I don't really believe that cliche and I've never been fond of it. I do, however, like the create the illusion that the eyes are a window to the soul. That is a concept that I can get behind.

Rhodanthe

Low contrast photography is not everyone’s cup of tea. In fact, a lot of people will dislike it. It’s not really what you’d call the popular choice— many think that low-contrast means lacking in contrast or associate it with being flat. Some also believe that the more contrast there is, the better. It is fair to say that low contrast photographs are nowhere near as eye-catching as the high contrast B&W photographs you typically see. That does not make them in any way inferior. Subtlety can be something that is easily overlooked. When you get past that entryway, though, low-contrast images can be so wonderful. Much of my work posted here tend to be higher in contrast, but in actuality, most everything that I finish has at least two versions— a high contrast and a low contrast version... and often a few in between. I still have not decided which I prefer, so I sit on all versions waiting to perhaps decide eventually which will be the "finished" versions. I do know that whenever I spot a photograph by someone else that I gravitate towards more than anything else, it tends to be something with very low contrast. That probably has a lot to do with the fact that I respect how hard it can be to make an exquisite low contrast photograph...

Percolate

There seems to be an intense hatred of vignetting among professionals. If you ever hear someone say vignetting is an optical flaw that needs to be fixed, ignore them. It is, scientifically, an optical flaw. Older, cheaper cameras (or a good camera with a cheaper lens) create vignettes in photos unintentionally due to their poor quality. It could also be created intentionally in the darkroom during the printing process. Many associate vignettes with vintage for this reason. In other words, many see it as a charming flaw. Can it be overused? Duh... of course, anything can. Subtlety in use is probably better than heavy-handed— much like the actual effect from a lens. Sometimes it can detract from inherent qualities already in the image. Good vignette, on the other hand, can tend to draw your eye toward the subject within the image. You may have noticed that, personally, I tend to like vignetting...

Sadie

With the advent of digital photography, and even more importantly, the internet, our ability to share and experience photographs has changed dramatically. There are pros and cons to that. Unfortunately, the need for creating prints that we can touch and feel is much less common than it once was. If I were a betting man I’d wager that a majority of digital photographers out there have never printed their own work, and never had the joy of seeing their work large and framed, never felt the richness of a rag paper with their art on it. I have always printed my work, both as a film photographer and a digital photographer. I always thought that it would be criminal to stop printing, even if it was no longer technically necessary. You need to see what an image looks— as a material object. You need to feel it. Need to live with the lines and tones and moments on paper. You need to see the inherent strengths, as well as the weaknesses. Are the tones right? Are the densities correct? It is a craft in and of itself. To me, the screen is a preview, and the print is the finished piece. Prints are simply more beautiful in your hands and on walls than they will ever be on a screen. Print your work!

Kelly

A portrait. What could be more simple and more complex, more obvious and more profound? ~Charles Baudelaire

PXE

This image is from a shoot with a model who goes by the moniker PXE. It's pronounced pixie, which is fitting due not only to her petite size but her squeaky voice. Her voice is a dead ringer for Carol Kane's voice (from Taxi). She's definitely one of a kind— a fascinating person, capable of switching back and forth between a bubbly cartoon character and intense sexual persona. Speaking of bubbly versus intense, I think this is one of my strongest images— despite the fact that we were both pretty much laughing hysterically the whole shoot.  It seems to visually convey a celebration of female empowerment.  "I am Woman, hear me roar".

Miera

Pin-up style took on quite a few different forms, even though it’s a formula that is actually very narrow and rather easily defined. My favorite style would be Irving Klaw photographing Bettie Page in bondage— which is fun but most definitely fetish & BDSM oriented. It's all pretty much tame compared to today's fare, though. I based this shoot, however, on the friendlier pulp girlie magazines that were published in the 40’s & 50’s. They were a bit more toned down compared to the Irving Klaw stuff...

"I've met a lot of pin-up girls, but I've never been able to pin one down"                                               ~ Groucho Marx

Sienna Luna

In art, there is no need for color; I see only light and shade. Give me a crayon, and I will paint your portrait.  ~Francisco Goya

Dessa

The most important thing that makes this window series work is keeping the windows dirty. I was in this warehouse studio for fifteen years, and the windows (and sills and trim) that I used for shooting I never cleaned once. I kept a few that I didn't use for shooting clean so that I could have a nice view of Chinatown.

Sienna Luna

"Familiarize yourself with the chains of bondage and you prepare your own limbs to wear them. " ~Abraham Lincoln

Devon

I have always loved film grain. While some photographers may have disliked and avoided it, most had an affection for it and still do. Digital noise has never really garnered the same love. I think one of the biggest reasons for the love of grain is the look and aesthetic of the film— its' slight roughness, and its' organic nature. With most modern digital cameras, the photos are too crisp. Too sharp. Too perfect. It was the imperfection of vinyl records which made the music sound much more warm, friendly, and personal. When listening to music on a vinyl record, there are cracks, hisses, and pops. The audio isn’t crystal clear— you hear some “warm” noise in the background, which I feel enhances the musical experience. I feel the texture of good (there are different kinds) film grain is sublime. I think grain often makes photos more beautiful because they feel more authentic, more real. Grain makes a photo a little bit less visible, a little less clear— just like our personal memories, thoughts, and nostalgia from the past. Life isn’t perfect. It is jagged, rough, and imperfect. Life is often fuzzy and uncertain. I like to have my photography reflect our lives— finding beauty in the imperfect.

Joe & Lissa

I tend to shoot intuitively— I pick up the camera and shoot. I may be simplifying this a bit— previous viewers of this work may notice familiar set-ups. Those set-ups are easy though; I've thought about them over time, and it rarely takes me more than a couple of minutes to get things ready. Pick up the camera and shoot has been my main credo for a very long time. I don't like to think too much when I'm shooting. I prefer to keep moving.

When I'm editing, though, is when I do my thinking. I ask myself questions, in order to pick the best images. Does this image tell a story? It doesn't even matter to me if a viewer imagines something different than I intended, as long as the image has the ingredients to get an imagination flowing. Does this image elicit an emotion? My favorite photographs are always the ones that evoke a feeling or a memory, transporting you to another place and time. Often this means avoiding the obvious shot... I try to capture the moments that reflect the story of someones individual experience to create something unique. Is the approach creative? I define "creative" as an image that goes beyond predictable techniques and treatments. In more specific terms, the best creative images show subjects through the photographers' eyes and perspective. In other words, I try to reveal my subject in extraordinary ways— ways that the viewer otherwise would not have seen. Is it deliberate and purposeful? Every element in my images should have a purpose (even if an abstract one). Nothing should exist just because “that’s how the scene looked”. The highest expression of photography is to make the whole image considered and intentional— capturing the world in such a way that your vision and emotion are seamlessly conveyed to a viewer. If anything in your image looks unnecessary, or it distracts from your goal for the photo, I'm not making the most of a scene.

Michiko

I tend to look for an unusual point of view. I love a point of view like this. To me, it seems to force the viewer into the image and become part of the image. When you shoot from below, typically a subject can make the viewer feel as though the subject is in control of a situation. The simple act of looking up at a subject/object can impart a loss of control or the idea that the object is unobtainable.

Rose

This is a one hundred percent unashamedly inspired homage to George Hurrell portraits from the 30's & 40's. George Edward Hurrell (1904 – 1992) was the foremost practitioner of the glamour idiom in photography and helped to create the standard for the idealized Hollywood glamour portrait. He invented the boom light (like used here) and is credited with developing other innovative lighting and darkroom techniques. While his photography was generally considered commercial photography during his career, he is now rightfully considered a pioneer in the history of photography.

Joe & Lissa

I typically avoid the "model holding a vintage camera" shot that I've seen a hundred times because it tends to look stilted, like so many other "vintage prop" shots. I prefer to recreate the past with make-up, hair, and clothes— paired with appropriate lighting. This was a couple shoot, and they were both on the vintage wavelength, so what the hell. I like how he looks like a beatnik amateur or paparazzi photographer rather than a fashion photographer, which gives things more of the Bettie Page feel.

Little One

A photoshoot, for me, is having a nice day with someone who intrigues me. Ultimately, it's nothing more than that. Creating something is the extra bonus, not the sole goal. Contrary to what it may look like here, I'm usually not looking for perfect bodies or faces. I'm looking for people that share my passion for genuinely artistic photography... people someone else might call "strange or different", people who are still discovering themselves. I don't really care about how much experience you have— some of the women in the photos have a lot of experience and some posed for the first time, and often somewhere in-between. Ironically, someone who is inexperienced offers me an awkwardness that can come across as a nice tension rather than representing an easy superficiality.