Feminism Without Clothes

My last post talked about bad things I had encountered from photographers.  I’ve decided to start a series of posts highlighting some of the wonderful photographers I’ve had the pleasure of working with over the span of time I’ve been modeling.  There are many of them- this may take a while.  If you’re not mentioned, it’s not because you sucked, or were sexist, or didn’t leave a good enough impression on me- it’s most likely because a girl’s only got so much time and energy.

Spotlight: Melvin Moten Jr.

When I approached Melvin to model for him, it slipped my mind that he had been commenting- and arguing with me- in my blog for at least several months.  I approached him knowing that he doesn’t pay models (unless you’re Kumi- and I’m no Kumi).  It is very, very rare for me to approach someone who does fetish photography unless I’m seeking out paid work.

We talked on the phone, and eventually decided to meet up in Detroit for the Dirty Show.  He said that he was, at the moment, interested in shooting work dealing with gender.  Excellent, I said.

We ended up shooting in the icy basement of a former convent in Toledo.  After shooting with Gary Mitchell for three hours at the group shoot taking place there, I entered the room where photographers and models were gathering and walked over to a section of a table I had claimed for my makeup and lingerie.  I looked up, and there was someone standing next to me, smiling.  It was Melvin.

The photographs in this diptych were the last taken during our shoot together.  As you can see from the goosebumps I’ve got in these photos, I’m freezing.  Melvin kept telling me that he was just going to take a couple more; lies, all lies.  I remember thinking, “these better be worth it.”  Of course, they were.

Thanks, Melvin.

 

 

 

Melvin Moten Jr., February 2007.    

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I’ve decided that if you leave something stupid in my blog, I’m either going to delete it or make a post mocking it in an entry called, “That was stupid; here’s why.”

That was stupid; here’s why.

The following comment was made in my blog:

“I enjoyed your photos and ideas.

I hope your family doesn’t murder you.
(I’m told there are about 5,000 “honor killings” a year in the Muslim World. )

and I thought MY family was a drag!

Good luck”

That was stupid.

Here’s why:

1. I live in the United States.

2. My family isn’t Muslim.

3. My parents know what I do.

4. And even if the three above statements weren’t true (and, keep in mind, all of these facts are present in my blog; you don’t have to read very far or very hard to find them), not all places in the Middle East are full of honor killings.  Not all (not most, in fact) Muslim families would kill their daughters for doing what I’m doing.  Have you ever been to the Middle East, or talked to a Muslim before?

That was stupid.  And that’s why.

 

 

 

Martini, December 2006.    

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I have made a horrifying and, most likely, inevitable decision.

I am now going by the name Candy in my day-to-day interactions with photographers. 

My parents had the wisdom to give me a perfectly good first name, and I, not realizing that I’d actually do modeling as more than just a couple of shoots a year for fun, decided to abandon it.

I went with Candy.

Now, not using my real name was wise.  However, choosing to use Candy in its place- not so much.

Can you even be a feminist with the name Candy?  I’m not one hundred percent sure.

 

 

Martini, December 2006.   

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There seems to be some confusion here regarding my “rules” about what I won’t and will do.  Multiple people have commented on my “no pink” rule.

Except that there is no “no pink” rule.

There was such a rule, once upon a time.  But no longer- if pink shows, it shows.  I do spreadshots.  I even pretend to masturbate in photos.  I’m not sure where people are getting the idea that I have a “no pink” rule, even though I’ve blogged about not having such a rule anymore.  Is it lack of reading comprehension, or poor writing on my part?

At any rate, I thought that I’d clarify this.  And, of course, provide proof, ironically in black and white.

 

D. Brian Nelson, January 2007. 

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So, I was sitting in the Detroit airport this previous Sunday, innocently eating a hamburger, when I overhear something on CNN- something about an abstinence-only speaker in Maryland making students chew gum.

I burst out laughing.

“It was a novel class exercise: Ask a room full of Montgomery County high school students to take turns chewing the same piece of gum.To demonstrate how sexually transmitted diseases are spread, a visiting speaker invited students to share gum in health classes at four county high schools in December and last month. School officials said a total of about 100 students participated in the lessons, although some declined to chew the gum.”

Oh, more than 100 students participated in the lesson.  I know this, because I grew up in the Washington, DC area- and I participated in the lesson.  (No, I did not chew the gum).  I graduated from high school in 2003, and attended health class, where I was lectured about sex and gum, in 2001.

I’ve even blogged before about this very same speaker, and another metaphor involving tape that was used to illustrate the dangers of sex.  I forgot about the gum and the laxatives. 

“Julia said the speaker also asked for volunteers to sample squares of chocolate, one of which, they were told, was actually a laxative. The point was to illustrate the uncertainty of knowing whether one has contracted an STD after a sexual encounter. Four boys volunteered, she said.”

By coincidence, Scarleteen, the extensive sexuality and health resource for young (and not so young) people is currently kicking off a fundraiser.  Scarleteen is another topic that I’ve previously blogged about.

Growing up in the era of the internet, I found Scarleteen while looking for advice that, somehow, was not found in lessons involving gum, laxatives, and tape.

So, go show that you support giving teens information that doesn’t belittle their intelligence, and that you’re against lessons in public schools that involve sharing gum.

Because misinformation and already chewed gum are both gross. Go ahead and make a donation to Scarleteen.

 

Photograph by Martini, October 2006. 

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I recently returned from a weekend spent in Detroit and Toledo; I attended a group shoot and the Dirty Show on Saturday.  I worked with some amazing people, and got to meet some I hope to work with in the future.

Gary Mitchell, Andi, Boyd, Iris Dassault, Melvin Moten Jr., Restrained Photo, Vivian Ireene Pierce, James Graham, Johnny Flamethrower, Chip Willis, Lochai, Dan, Cherrystone, Kat Love, JJ Plush- consider your names dropped.  My apologies to anyone I’ve overlooked.

Not a whole lot of feminist commentary in this entry, I know.  Stay tuned: tomorrow’s will involve chewing gum and STDs.  Really.

 

 

Photo by Jeffery McAlister, January 2007.

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A lot of models simply don’t shoot nudes for free.  Some don’t shoot bondage for free.  I’m not one of those models- I rarely shoot nudes for free, and I almost never, ever shoot bondage/fetish content for free.

Sometimes people will take the fact that models won’t shoot certain content unless they’re paid as a sign of poor morals- that they consider themselves above doing nudes/bondage/fetish/toys/whatever until someone offers them some cash- in which case, it’s all good.

I think this is a very puritanical and judgemental take- and, often, just plain incorrect.

Most of the time, models refuse to do certain things unless they’re paid because they’re businesswomen(or men) who understand the concept of supply and demand.  I charge more for bondage photography than fine art nudes not because I find doing bondage modeling more unethical on some level than art nudes, but because finding a model who will do bondage- particularly nude bondage- is harder than finding a model who will do art nudes. 

I charge more because I can.  So shoot me.  Just remember to pay me, too.

 

 

D. Brian Nelson. January 2007.   

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