The cool thing about photography as an art form is that the final image captured is 100% your point of view. I love hearing clients say, "I've never seen myself that way" (yes, even models) after viewing their proofs or a final series. I always think to myself- Cool, well that's definitely how I see you...
Anyhow, a huge influence on my work and vision comes from my upbringing in the deep, deep south. My childhood holds this ethereal reality that though I've probably romanticized, I draw on for visual and emotional inspirations.
When I'm feeling inspired to capture, other little side effects occur too- like writing, or painting or strumming pitifully at my acoustic guitar. Luckily I don't know how to post my strummings, so instead here's a poem and a photo.
When I'm feeling inspired to capture, other little side effects occur too- like writing, or painting or strumming pitifully at my acoustic guitar. Luckily I don't know how to post my strummings, so instead here's a poem and a photo.
These photos below are from a test I did with model, Kara Jean and the following poem is an inside scoop on my inspirations. It's a bit nostalgic, a bit dark, and whatever else you can say about a poem.
MUAH: Terri Reece
Styling: Me
MUAH: Terri Reece
Styling: Me
the shadows sat with me
cooling my dark shoulders
as the screen pressed against my arm.
she was speaking low and the hum of her voice
reminded me of fireflies
caught in my jar
their lights dimming
me not knowing why.
and then the buzz became louder
and the screen hit my elbow
as my eyes flickered and hungered for fireflies
but then I remembered-
there was no jar
only her
buzzing
only not buzzing
screaming, really
and the screen pushed a delicate grid of diamonds
onto my brow as my pupils swelled and
swallowed the moonlight.
and then there was cold steel.
inside, only me
outside, cruel steel-
a blade,
then blood
and then more buzzing
only not buzzing
screaming-
a man this time
a retreat this time
then blue and
red
and blue
and red
fireflies
flitting across the mesquite tree
lapping across the dark porch
searching out
with red hands
then blue.
I remembered the ocean as I cupped my ears
against the siren screams
against the cold snap of steel across
her wrists
I listened to the sea until the
red
and the blue
disappeared
with her somewhere inside
then touched my ocean fingers
to the diamond grid imprinted on my face.
cooling my dark shoulders
as the screen pressed against my arm.
she was speaking low and the hum of her voice
reminded me of fireflies
caught in my jar
their lights dimming
me not knowing why.
and then the buzz became louder
and the screen hit my elbow
as my eyes flickered and hungered for fireflies
but then I remembered-
there was no jar
only her
buzzing
only not buzzing
screaming, really
and the screen pushed a delicate grid of diamonds
onto my brow as my pupils swelled and
swallowed the moonlight.
and then there was cold steel.
inside, only me
outside, cruel steel-
a blade,
then blood
and then more buzzing
only not buzzing
screaming-
a man this time
a retreat this time
then blue and
red
and blue
and red
fireflies
flitting across the mesquite tree
lapping across the dark porch
searching out
with red hands
then blue.
I remembered the ocean as I cupped my ears
against the siren screams
against the cold snap of steel across
her wrists
I listened to the sea until the
red
and the blue
disappeared
with her somewhere inside
then touched my ocean fingers
to the diamond grid imprinted on my face.
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