Shooting Nikolaj

Back from shooting my first artistic male nude. (Which is not a familiar nude, such as a hubby, or a fashion nude, which is not really a nude.. Or a sport nude, which isn’t really all that difficult.)...

Well.

That was interesting.

That much about me being a very calm and collected professional. O.o Good Gods, I almost imploded with shyness. When the man took off all of his clothes, I nigh started to weep. In fact I don’t think I ever looked at him at all with my real eyes. I only dared so though a lens. Am really, really grateful all of these people were my friends, because otherwise we'd have gotten nowhere. Everyone else was totally okay – the guy was chillaxed as can be, my perfect assistant Tinka was as perfect as only she can be – the camera was cooler than I have felt it in a while. It overheated when I was shooting musicians the other day, but on a male nude, it’s as calm as the deep blue seas..

The plan was to expand my love for portrait over the whole body. Just my idiocy to choose a man with a striking face. Control the composition. Steal the shapes away from the light. Fabricate the story… You can do this. You’ve done it a million times with just the face.

Neup.

Oh, I now have A LOT of handsome face portraits. The guy just happens to be butt nekkid somewhere out of the frame. Good job.

The best I managed to push for was the “stolen moments”, very intimate stuff a-la-Lucy Berliner.

First attempt at art and I fucking suck at art. Is artist supposed to feel vivisected by their own production? Well, okay, maybe so. Can’t think straight now, I should crawl home and pass out. Good God, editing these will be a fucking torture. The light was majesty and he was super patient… But between the striking face and the body, devoid of any scars or tattoos… that was just so incredibly difficult.

I really really hope that when people who think I am cool meet me and see I am a hyper-emotional firefly, they consider this to be an even cooler feature. Luckily, nobody reads my blog and will never know how terribly scared I was.

Two big lessons learnt, however.

One: all the penises on this world look exactly the same. And are really not very interesting at all to look at, to be honest. Play with, sure. In the right time and place (and penis.) But to look at… Not really. Sorry, guys. Boobs on girls are much more attractive than balls on guys. (And let's not ever go into the crossing of the two.)

Two: never ever use anything but the 50mm prime to photograph “stolen moments” from now on. Ever. It is a flawless lens. It is the sort of a lens that relates to my view of the world exactly. It’s small and light and it’s sublime in capturing texture.It loves the light and the light appreciates it.

I have to get better at this. I should be the one to calm others down. And yet I cannot think of a better feeling over-burn than being sucked into a photoshoot – and you’re the one holding the time-stopping machine. 

Also, I noticed, my memory stores mirror images of places lately. Exact in detail, just mirrored.

And while I get back into my sanity bubble and edit the pickies, here's one of Tinka, forced into a baggie for chocolates, going over Nick Cave lyrics. :D

That man's view has very many roofs :D