I had a "photography test" with a fancy photographer yesterday.  I got it by a total fluke. Everyone was surprised. Especially me. Surprised that I got it, and really surprised that I wanted it.

Photography tests are so called because they are designed to test how well you do in front of a camera. Comfort, poise, angles, all that stuff.

I do not do so well on these tests.

I am no model.
And to add to my non-modelness, I am PAINFULLY aware of just HOW MUCH I am not a model, so I seem to wordlessly, desperately apologize for my own face and body in every single shot.
Somehow, not so lovely to look at, that horrid self consciousness.  (for additional references, see: your middle school yearbook) (any middle school yearbook)

But sometimes they say they don't want models, they want actors, so in I go. Once in a blue moon.

And this fancy photographer (while I was waiting to go in, he checked with his assistant:  "Alfonso at 4? Who's Alfonso...??? Oh wait, yeah, that's P.Diddy's guy.") wanted actors. He wanted to do some experiments of slight facial movement.  (In apparently the harshest lighting ever.)

But all his photos look this way, and there's something about him obviously thinking my bad skin and lopsided hair and wrinkles and dried out lipstick are worth photographing that makes me love the result.


I look old, I look disheveled, I look sloppy, I look all the things that drive me crazy about how I look.

But I like it. I look like me.



Arnie said...

I like it.

Genevra said...

Lovely post. ;)

There is a beautiful painting in The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. A woman sitting on her porch in a bathrobe, drinking coffee I think. It's one of my favorite paintings ever. You really remind me of her in these shots.

bacsimap said...

The model is real; the photograph is artifice.
Your Lacy is much better than his Lacy.

Lizzy said...

Love. It. Beautiful, but real. Lovely.
And fucking fantastic hair!