Last summer, during a trip to Toronto, I managed to squeeze in a last-minute photoshoot with Jazz. When she reached out to me, she explained her reasons for wanting to do a shoot. In her words:
“I have struggled with body image issues most of my life. Through this photoshoot, I want to see how beautiful my body looks and it will help other women like me to get validation of their bodies.”
While these photos only scratch the surface, I am glad I got the chance to work with Jazz.
These nude portraits of Zoé Meyer were taken 10 years ago at her home in Montreal. I have previously shared some images from this set in social media, but I am publishing them here for the first time. To mark the occasion, I have given them a new coat of paint, and I am also publishing some previously unreleased photos from this photo shoot.
As I have done in the past (e.g., “Chloe: coda”, “Machinist: coda”), I am releasing another one of my “codas”—a second set of photos from a previous photoshoot—in this case, from my photoshoot with Lark.
A while back I added a new gallery featuring a selection of my early work. "The Garden" series is comprised of photographs dating back to the late 2000’s, and includes some previously unreleased work. It has taken some time, but I am now publishing in this blog some additional images from this series.
The photographs from “The Garden” were first published years before I built this website. The internet is an ephemeral medium, and some of the images that I published early on have, for better or for worse, mostly disappeared from the web (Tumblr’s porn ban played a large part in that). Giving them a home here is part of an effort to curate and preserve some of those photos.
Going through my early catalogue was also an excuse to do a bit of gardening: cropping a little here, shifting some tones there, etc. Most of these photographs were created using rudimentary tools, including a poorly calibrated monitor, so this was an opportunity to compensate for the technical limitations of the equipment I used at the time.
Here are a few additional selections from the garden.
“Encuéntrame en el Parque de la Fertilidad a las cinco”, le había dicho a Beatrice en medio del ruido. Para llegar, había tomado un bus por la Avenida de los Urapanes, dejándolo en la entrada femenina del parque. En el otro extremo, se veía el imponente perfil del enorme falo, la textura de la roca invisible por la distancia.
Atravesó la vulva de piedra, sin poder evitar mirar hacia atrás, y tomó el conocido camino de las musas. Al llegar a la Fuente de los Amantes, quiso beber un trago de agua, pero para su decepción, la fuente estaba seca. Aún sediento y tratando de ignorar el augurio, prosiguió su camino hasta llegar al extremo masculino del parque. Cansado, apoyó su espalda contra el falo.
Es difícil decir cuánto tiempo pasó, pero desde su llegada, la sombra del falo se había trasladado lentamente de un lado al otro del suelo, marcando el pasar del tiempo como un reloj de sol. Ahora el viento traía retazos desechados de papel con inscripciones hechas a mano; una serie de versos escritos sobre el otrora calendario lunar que servía de folleto para los visitantes del parque. No fue necesario mirar dos veces para reconocer en ellos su puño y letra.
Fue entonces cuando comenzó a llover. Al principio, los truenos en el cielo solo habían logrado conjurar unas pocas gotas, pero lentamente, la tormenta se había erguido sobre su cabeza, escupiendo tanta lluvia que parecía que cayesen chorros. Resignado, abotonó su gabardina y comenzó su camino de regreso. Beatrice no había venido hoy tampoco.