THE (SEXY) MODEL EXPERIENCE
This story is a little embarrassing. It doesn’t exactly make me look good. It exposes my weaknesses, my shortcomings, my frailties. It shows that I was a typical male college student. It also reinforces some of the stereotypes about photographers. But I grew from the experience, so I believe it is a story worth telling.
Like many 20-year-old photography students, I was eager to photograph the nude female form. Fortunately, I had a plethora of willing models to choose from at the art school I attended, or in the surrounding streets of Los Angeles.
I made arrangements to photograph a very attractive, slender, fit young woman. I believe her name was Deanne, although so many years have passed that I honestly can’t say with certainty. What I do remember is that she was a dancer. She had an extraordinary command of her body and knew instinctively how to position herself. Somehow, that made her even more captivating.
We began the shoot professionally, but I have to admit that I couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful body in front of my camera. And yes, I allowed the desires of the flesh to overtake me. You can probably guess where that lead.
After the shoot was over, and we spent some time getting to know each other better, I processed the film and took a look at the contact sheets. I broke down in tears.
I mean, I literally fell against the outside wall of the place where I lived, slid down until I was sitting on the cement porch with my back against the house, and cried. Loudly and long.
There wasn’t one good photograph from the entire shoot. Not one.
How could I show my face to the other photographers at school? How could I go on calling myself a photographer when I couldn’t make a great photograph under circumstances that seemed almost impossible to fail? I had the knowledge. I had the technical skills. I had the perfect model. And I had blown it.
There was only one reason I felt like such a failure: I had allowed myself to succumb to my own lust and cravings. Yes, it’s true. I had acted like a typical guy.
I felt terrible. I felt defeated. I had botched what should have been a perfect photographic opportunity because I had allowed myself to lose sight of the very reason I was there. I swore it would never happen again.
And it didn’t.
It was a powerful experience, and one that changed the way I approached photography. I learned what was truly important to me: the art, the composition, the light, and ultimately, the final image.
I am a photographer first and foremost.
From that day forward, I learned to keep my eye and my mind focused on the photograph, on the composition, the lighting, the positioning. The models became more like a prop. They didn’t mind. In fact, I believe they appreciated it. They knew that when they stepped in front of my camera, my sole objective was to create a great photograph.
I believe that is one of the reasons models, dancers, and celebrities have always felt comfortable working with me as a collaborator in the creative process. They know I am completely focused on creating the best image possible. Nothing else. No matter how beautiful the model is, the photograph comes first.
Like I said, this story makes me, (or at least that young me), look bad. But I did learn a great lesson that has stayed with me through my career.
