Soap

(Boris Grigoriev)

I shot last night with a model I'd shot with once before.  We shot in dresses, a coat, costume shooting of a sort though not costumes really.  But I'm trying to make the transition from Cat House to Carnival and it is taking some doing.  And so. . . I resisted temptation and kept her in her clothes.  It was awful.  Not the photos.  They will be wonderful.  But I was like a crack addict in a halfway house.

We shot slowly but efficiently, and so we finished early.  A good night, I thought.  It is easier shooting this way.  So few emotions, so little stress.  Simply technical.  

I walked her to the car and we hugged goodbye.  I could smell the scented soap upon her skin.  Fresh.  Clean.  Simple.  

Early to bed, I woke in the deep darkness.  It was useless.  I was filled with it.  

Coffee made, cat fed, I turned on the computer, read the news, and looked at some websites I visit from time to time.  I went to Ellen Rogers' blog.  She had a new post, something that only happens a few times a month.  She had new images and a longish (for her) bit of writing about her new project.  She'd had some problems on set with two models who did not share her vision, she said.  Then this: 

I was left with a very unnatural and hesitant feeling throughout the day. It wasn’t their fault but it’s always difficult when coming across those who are so naturally different in taste to you that they make you feel ashamed of who you are and what you love.

Oh, Ellen, I think, there is a simpler way.  Dress things up in pretty clothing, don't strip it bare.  But she knows that.  She is in London, she says, going to Fashion Week.  There is something.  There's a curing there.