Katy

I had a literary allusion in mind for this image— I was thinking Henry Miller as a woman. I gathered up some old items and arranged them a bit. I told Katy to pretend to be him, which wasn’t hard since she worships the author (she has a tattoo of him on her arm). To be honest, I thought that it was going to be a kind of lame image, but I love it! Speaking of Henry Miller, for anyone remotely interested in him but have been put off by the intense going off on a tangent/rambling (and crudeness) in the Tropic books, I would suggest picking up a lesser-known writing— Quiet Days in Clichy. Miller, in a masterful way, gives us an account of Paris like it once was. Far from the visual images of a saccharine city as portrayed in films like Amelie (not that I don’t love that film), Quiet Days in Clichy mingles the picturesque with the down-and-out for a wonderfully grimy portrait of the underbelly of a city. Whores and cafes, breakfasts of Roquefort and white wine, poetry, and squalid prose, Miller dissects Paris in the brilliant way Émile Zola writes of it in Thérèse Raquin... presenting a city that is a filthy beast, but deserving not less than all your love and praise. It's straightforward, hilarious— and at times shocking, but undoubtedly it will continue to be an inspiration to those who long to live life to the fullest. I've been a big Henry Miller fan since I was a teenager, but his infamous and banned books (the Cancer and Capricorn ones) are not my favorites. I far prefer this one, along with The Colossus of Maroussi and Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch. Quiet Days is a memoir; a nostalgic story of life in Paris before WW II; a celebration of the Bohemian life Miller lived when he was a poor unknown writer. It's rollicking, hysterical, and introduces fans to a whole cast of characters who became Miller's lifelong friends— people who influenced his writing and his art forever.

Hand-made Japanese doll

"I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn't photograph them."    ~Diane Arbus

Jade Vixen

When I first started photographing, my biggest influence was Man Ray. My earliest successful images often looked like Man Ray photographs. Not so much any more, but that connection is still embedded in me, and that aesthetic still seeps into more than a few newer images. Perhaps the one below fits that bill. Early on, I used to think that his images were more by chance than deliberate methods. I saw a wonderful retrospective on him at the Georges Pompidou Center in Paris, back in 1998, which showed how dramatically he would crop images. It also showed how he used myth making to his advantage— he would make up fabulous stories about how many of his photographs came about by happy accident, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. His name is a good example of how intentional he was about anything that he did. His real name was Emmanuel Radnitzky— but he cropped it, and cropped it well. He didn't become Manny Radnik or Ritzy Manuel. He folded and trimmed his name so that the new one would have a shiny new meaning- half human, half light. Man Ray cropped with flair, and chance had nothing to do with it.

Devon

I must say that although I definitely understand the mass appeal of using your iPhone as a snapshot camera, I have never been entirely comfortable with the trade-off. Yes, it's super convenient— but it is actually taking two or three (or four) steps backward concerning image quality. Technology (especially for photography) is more advanced than ever, but everyone is taking these awful pictures that wouldn't even look good as a 4 x 6 print, yet alone a larger print that you might frame and hang. Hell, they usually look downright awful as thumbnails on Facebook! I see the bus stop and television ads showing what amazing potential they have as far as being able to be blown up to a billboard or a large HDTV, but I am not buying it. They are very deceptive. Those images are very carefully selected from talented photographers shooting under ideal circumstances— not to mention that the images were not degraded with in-phone apps, and then they were heavily processed and fixed by professionals with advanced software. Maybe they were not even shot on iPhones? None the less, I have an iPhone, and sometimes the best camera is the one you have with you. So I have been taking some shots with it. Things that catch my eye in the spur of the moment. Also, macro photography is a strong point of the iPhone camera; you can get two inches away (from, let's say an insect) and get a good focus. I love this because carrying a macro lens on the go is not something that I would typically do. So, yes, eventually I hope to have a little portfolio of iPhone images. I'm pretty damn sure that it won't be my favorite portfolio, but it might be interesting. Kind of like the collection of Polaroids that I have— which are interesting, but far from great....

Jade Vixen

We are bombarded with visual images. The potential for any particular image being memorable is being diluted with everything else. Where we once just saw photographs in magazines and books and snapshots (perhaps a gallery), we now see them constantly on the internet. For photographers, this is a blessing and a curse. More people than ever can see our work— but unless it's absolutely iconic, it probably is not being remembered all that well. It is more important than it ever was to have a certain look to your work, for it is more likely that your general body of work is being remembered, rather than a few select images. Perhaps one image, again, but only if it is something that really stands out. This is quite sobering. I've always thought that is important that one creates their art more for themselves than for others to see— for since it has always been a difficult endeavor to remain relevant, it seems harder than ever in a culture that overwhelms us with optical stimuli.

Nicole

This is a rather old film shot of mine, still a favorite, from the mid-1990's.

Lucy & Nathalia

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.

Lucy & Nathalia

It is nice to get a glimpse of a lady bathing
you scrubbed your flower face and cleansed your lovely body
while this old monk sat and watched
feeling more blessed than even the emperor of China.

Ikkyū  一休宗純  Zen Buddhist monk, 1394-1481

Sonia & Jenn

This was actually just a smoke break that caught my eye, which I took a quick snap of— the studio lights happened to still be on. That's a nice benefit of using continuous lighting. It turned out to be the best shot of a shoot that was already finished. Those kinds of things can really make your day.

Sarah

I've always tried to maintain a strong lock onto the eyes. Normally, there is a natural rhythm of looking at people and looking away. When it feels right, we can hold our gaze a little longer, relishing a simple moment of human connection. We are naturally drawn into images by eye contact. There is nothing like that feeling of a tie bound by an invisible thread, as in sharing a unique moment with them. It’s very hard to articulate and explain in words that feeling that connects you to a subject, either in the viewfinder or on the printed page. When that connection is there, though, it's obvious— and doesn’t need words to explain it; we feel it.

Twinky

This is one of my favorite images, perhaps because it has a unique oddness to it. It's not something that someone else could imitate very easily. In fact, I don't think that I could replicate it again myself if I wanted to. It was the serendipity of the right model doing the right thing— while by chance, I got the right angle with just the right lighting. It certainly was not something that I consciously designed or thought of beforehand. It was a happy accident.

Sable Sin Cyr

Angelina Jolie lips, plus some.

Jezz

"I’ve watched people at the gallery looking at the nudes, and I find it interesting that they don’t spend the most time in front of the beautiful bodies… even young gallery-goers seem to be more involved with the bodies that show signs of wear and tear, the one that shows evidence of having been lived in.”  ~Chuck Close

Ajaye

This reminds me of the Shroud of Turin. Which reminds me of "In Search Of...", that was narrated by Leonard Nimoy in the 1970's. My favorite was "In Search of... The Bermuda Triangle". Talk about early sensationalism! Now I tend to think, umm— how about that planes & boats disappear simply because it's a very large area that is extremely prone to nasty storms, despite that it's surrounded by heavily populated civilization? There was, indeed, an "In Search of... the Shroud of Turin", though. This image is dedicated to that episode.

Meira

Something a little more 1940's Hollywood Glamour, mixed with some Film Noir nudity...

Ajaye

"Photography is the easiest medium with which to be merely competent. Almost anybody can be competent. It's the hardest medium in which to have some sort of personal vision and to have a signature style."  ~Chuck Close

Percolate & Autumn

Recently someone left me a comment stating that they reworked the single images of photographers found on the internet. He also mentioned that he (Alexandros “Ishkandar” Raskolnick) hoped that I didn't mind that he reworked a couple of my images. Generally, I don't really care for such things, but I really liked this interpretation of two of my images combined:

Meira

As an unparalleled expert in nothing, I'd like to give one suggestion on how to make window shots more dreamy and delightful: a flower in the hair. Bam! Instant whimsical loveliness. If anyone needs more expert advice on nothingness, just send me a line at kevinloreaux@easy-peasy-photo-ideas.com

Jezz

Some things that only former film photographers remember (and certainly don't miss...):

Looking at and having to edit with contact sheets. Ugh. I hated this. Trying to look at 36 little images with a loop and figuring out which were worth printing. Then you tried a print, only to find that, yep— it wasn't worth printing. I remember thinking that there has to be a better way. Now you can look at them big as a screen, side by side, whatever. Slight improvement? Hell, yeah.

Cleaning up the darkroom (chemicals, trays, sink, developing containers, et cetera) after every session, whether it was 20 minutes or 8 hours. That got old. I remember thinking that there has to be a better way. It's called a computer and a screen.

Either the extreme expense of having a lab develop film for you— or developing it yourself, which was real tedious. I remember thinking that there has to be a better way.

Having to check how many shots you have left on a roll. The guilt of thinking that you have just shot 7-9-12 (more?) rolls of film, and the cost and tediousness of dealing with it. I remember thinking that there has to be a better way. There sure was.

Having to stick with one ISO for at least a whole roll of film (like 100, 400, or 3200). Not to mention that anything over 400 ISO was only good if you considered it fine art. I remember having to juggle two cameras at a wedding— either a combo of low and higher ISO, or color and B&W. I still keep two great cameras with me (you have to have a back-up camera)— but one with a 24-70mm f2.8 lens and one with a 50mm f1.2 lens, so I can quickly get appropriately different kinds of shots. Much better.

Speaking of weddings, having to change a roll of film right when there is a shot to be had— yeah, that sucked. I could go on and on, but these are some of the biggies that I really don't miss at all...

Percolate

Over the past few years, I have been doing suspensions in collaboration with Ian. He is very experienced with rope bondage and suspension. In the BDSM world, "full suspension" refers to suspending a person's entire body off the floor with the aid of ropes, chains, or cables. A typical full suspension is an advanced and somewhat risky form of rope bondage. It involves the use of elaborate knots, and many practitioners use modular rope segments that can be quickly released in case the subject experiences a loss of circulation, unwanted pain, or loses consciousness, etc. This is one of the reasons that Ian does the suspensions. Besides that I'm not really experienced enough to do suspensions, it wouldn't be wise for me to be oblivious to someone's safety while I'm photographing them. Most of the rope work that is photographed on the floor, however, are things that I have done myself.

One of the reasons that I began an interest in doing a series on suspensions is that, both in books and surfing the net, it is very hard to find many well-made photographs of suspensions. It's not difficult to find well-done rope work, but the combination of great rope work and images seems to be greatly lacking. So it seemed to be something really worth taking on. After this portfolio builds and expands (I'd like to move the setting outside in trees, for example), I'd like to perhaps get a book published on it.