Originally Posted Wednesday, February 12, 2014
It is just so damned much fun when a picture turns out. Sometimes I ask models to twist themselves strangely, in a way nobody would ever move in nature. They look at me like I'm crazy most often and then try to shake out the feeling of pain and weirdness from their bodies after holding the pose for a long, long time. It is a matter of inches as most things are. "Move your hand up an inch, no more. Now bring it toward your stomach an inch. Bring your elbow up more. Good. Move your left. . . no!. . . your right knee forward two inches. Lean on your forearm rather than your hand. Move it forward. . . right there. Hold it. Don't you DARE move!" And when I snap the shutter, I know, and then I start squealing and dancing around. There is all this art in my head that almost exists in paintings. I can see that coming to life in form and light. Sometimes.
And later, the whole thing just looks so natural like we just fell into it. When I look at work from some of the good fashion photographers, I often find myself why he or she didn't ask the model to open up her arm a bit or move a foot or a knee.
This one is a Picasso painting I can't find. I'm not sure it exists, but here it is, I think.
And here's a little song for the Girl of Q's Dreams. She can have a good laugh. I just love the sound of it.
And later, the whole thing just looks so natural like we just fell into it. When I look at work from some of the good fashion photographers, I often find myself why he or she didn't ask the model to open up her arm a bit or move a foot or a knee.
This one is a Picasso painting I can't find. I'm not sure it exists, but here it is, I think.
And here's a little song for the Girl of Q's Dreams. She can have a good laugh. I just love the sound of it.
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