Living Art

On the outside, I looked calm and collected, perhaps even confident as I sprawled my behind on the photography studio’s floor. Inside, though, I was shaking like a leaf. For a while we all stood around, nervously chatting pleasantries. One of us worriedly told us about a broken nail that she wanted to hide and another gal whispered she wanted to just hide from view. I looked up at Cat, the woman who, to my knowledge, has had no problem with disrobing in front of a group of ‘strange peoples’ (her words, not mine). She was standing with her arms across her chest, her usual loud-mouth demeanor silent.

I looked around again; everyone had gotten quiet for a bit and then started that nervous chattering once more. I frowned and looked at the floor. I felt like I did during my first school dance; boys in one end of the room, girls in the other. The anticipation and anxiety could be cut with a butter knife.

"Screw this!" I thought, standing up from my place. "I’m asking a boy out to dance. I’m stepping out on stage. Take a deep breath and go." This has been pretty much my mantra since my theater days.

I stood up with my eyes closed, tore my dress off and then offered Cat my back. "Can you help me take this off?" I asked, motioning to my bra. I couldn’t tell if my hand was throbbing because of the sprain or if I was just trying to coax her out of her own thoughts and into action.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw two women already sans clothes. One, superbly petite and with a shy little grin that lit up the room. She was sprawled on the floor right next to where I had been sitting. For a split second I was a little jealous; she was after all absolutely gorgeous, had fantastic tattooes and looked so at ease. But I didn’t let that thought linger. I couldn’t help but play with the idea that maybe I looked the same to other women. After all, I didn’t hesitate to toss my clothes aside and I’d been loudly cracking jokes before that.

Behind her was another lovely woman, curvier and with fun-colored hair of teal and brown. She had a very relaxing aura about her. This woman, it turns out, was Jay, our photographer. I don’t remember who pointed that out but once that became common knowledge, it was like a spell had been broken. More clothes were shed, nervous chattering broke into laughter.

Jay went on to explain that it was more comfortable for her to snap shots without clothes on when photographing sessions such as Power of She. "It makes the models more comfortable," she explained "Plus I like having an excuse to not wear clothes when I don’t have to."

I can’t blame her. If I could get away with it I wouldn’t be wearing clothes either.

Before we got started, Jay and Christi quickly implemented a rule: We were not to complain or self-deprecate ourselves. We could compliment one another ALL we wanted (and trust me, we were all eager to do so. Mary was gorgeous, Liz had a fantastic smile, Christi’s effervescent attitude had me giggling like a madwoman, Jennifer’s tattoos both frightened me and awed me [I fear and respect ouji boards], Lachelle was simply beautiful, Breanna laid back with gorgeous hair and Cat, well, Cat’s Cat and she’s one of my best friends for a reason. )

With Jay at the helm, the shoot went a lot smoother than I expected. I’ve been asked to model before – I was ‘discovered’ when I was 6 but when it came to get in front of the camera, I seized up. It has been a reaction that has followed me through out life. EVERY shot anyone has ever taken of me has been with me hamming it for the camera. I don’t know what it is about a camera – photographic of cinematic – but I get nervous. I rely on self-deprecating humor to cope. I become a clown and a character.

Jay calmed the whole group by leading us with her soft, yet firm demeanor. She had a very specific vision and when she looked at us, we could see the wheels turning, and her eyes sparkle with an idea. We were her human puzzle pieces, and like the human pieces we were, that vision often changed to better suit us. I do have a feeling if she weren’t so booked and if us dames didn’t have other things to do we could have spent all day weaving our bodies in a living tapestry.

By the end of the session, once we had our clothes back on, I looked at Cat and whispered "I want to model for her again."

ETA:  D4D discount, 25% off! 

Jay&

Photo, video digital and fine art.

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