Pinups, not porn!

I recently shot some pinup work with a friend and fellow photographer as the model.  Our goals were pretty simple. She needed a break from life's stresses and just wanted to do something creative to relax.  I have a lot of people ask whether I shoot pinup-style portraits, and I just wanted to experiment with the style without any pressure to deliver for a client.  We both like the style and the history, and we both wanted to have some fun.

Some turned out better than others, but overall I think we're both pretty pleased with them.  I posted some of the best on Facebook and asked for feedback.  Most people liked them, but one person - there always has to be one - said they look like soft core porn.  My first thought was "you need to ask someone to show you some real porn," but truly I found the comment more offensive than you might think.

 This isn't the first time someone has called my work porn.  There's a huge sector of America, not to mention Interior Alaska, that subscribes to a fundamentalist conservative worldview in which there is no distinction between nudity and pornography.  They won't be educated, persuaded, or enlightened to any other worldview, for they cannot conceive of any possible merit in something they don't understand, and they see no good reason for tolerance of anything beyond the boundaries of their provincial comfort zone.  Since most of my work includes nudity, I hear from them fairly regularly (for some reason they seem to be avid viewers and reviewers of nude artwork, despite the fact that they find it so objectionable), and calling my work pornography these days usually gets about as much of a rise out of me as telling me there's a golf match on TV (oh boy!).  But jeez, if you want to attack my work, at least choose something that includes nudity.  I can respect someone who's advocating for something they truly believe in, even if I adamantly disagree with them, but labeling this innocent, playful work as porn makes me think you're just making up a reason to pick a fight, and I have no respect for that at all.  

Anyway, pinups ... they're a long-standing art form that has been admired throughout America and the world for nearly a century.  There's plenty of room for variation of styles in the genre, from grainy cartoonish pinpus of the 20's and 30's, to the classics of Gil Elvgren and Alberto Vargas, to WWII noseart, to poodle skirts and sweaters, to Marilyn Monroe cheesecake, to Betty Page fetish to polished modern glossy photography.  Still, there are expected characteristics of pinup imagery that put pretty firm boundaries on what fits and what doesn't.  If it's not a little playful, a little sexy, and doesn't have a simple story to it, it's not a pinup.

My vision for these shots was something more painterly than a sharp photograph but more photorealistic than a painting, very minimal on the props, and with a hint of an antique patina.  Several people have asked about how I processed them, and I'll post a detailed blog entry on that soon.  For now, I'd like to focus on the aesthetics rather than the technical details.  You can click any photo to enlarge it.  Do they say "pinup" to you?  Is the antiquing enough, or too much?  Do they have a painterly feeling to them?  Did we do the genre justice?  Good or bad, let me know what you think.  Just don't tell me they're porn!

And finally, thanks very much to my friend and model.  I had a great time shooting these with you.

The sensual side of the line

A fairly well-known fine art photographer and curator recently did me the favor of reviewing my body of work.  He pointed out some good things in my work, but his view of my work as a whole was that it's old fashioned.  His opinion is that anonymous figure and form photography is a thing of the past that is no longer interesting to the art world.  While there's certainly ample evidence to the contrary, he did give me an interesting perspective to consider.  His suggestions for improving my work were to photograph figure and form in a way that also incorporates personality and sensuality.


The following week I shot a model who had incredibly beautiful form and produced some great classical figure and bodyscape work, but with whom I had a very difficult time keeping the personality and sensuality out.  When I finished processing that session I sent my critic some of the shots (the ones you see here) and asked for just a bit more of his time to comment on them.  His only response was "You understood.  Now build on it."  

I've been contemplating that session for a few weeks now.  I'm certain his comments influenced the output of that session, but every model brings a different energy to a session and a different influence to my vision.  There was an undeniable sensual air to this model, and I wonder if the results with her might not have been similar even if I'd never had that critique.

There is a broad, fuzzy line between sensual and erotic. I do shoot some erotica, and when I set out to shoot erotic work, I'm very cognizant of that line because straying too far from it on the erotic side leads to another realm where the artistic value of a piece gets overpowered by other factors.  When I set out to shoot non-erotic work, though, I generally don't think much about it, and if I do it's generally just to ensure that I stay pretty far short of it.  In that respect, my critique was very valid.  I probably miss a lot of the potential sensuality that could be included in an image without getting onto the erotic side of the line. 

Much of the work from this session fills that gap.  There is a sensuality to these images that is short of erotic.  Line, figure, and form are still dominant aspects of the composition, but there is a feeling of personality, emotion, and life as well.  Why?  I'm not sure.  Perhaps I was thinking about my critic's comments as we shot, but it was not deliberate.  My awareness was on her beautiful figure and form.  Also, I can't capture sensuality if it's not there, so I have to give some of the credit to the model.  

One of the things I love about expressive photography is that it transcends the technical.  I can follow a formula and produce image after image with the same technical characteristics, but the feeling and energy can't be scripted.  That comes from a synergy between my mood, the model's mood, how the model's physical traits influence my vision, and how we connect emotionally.  I've decided that the explanation for these images must consider all of those factors - my subconscious thoughts about my critique, the way this particular model influenced my vision, and her innate sensuality that came through in the energy and mood of her poses and expressions.

And ultimately the important question isn't why or how, but whether I can produce images with similar feelings again.  I'm really excited about these images and the prospect of exploring imagery at this volume of sensuality.  I think I understood.  Now I'll try to build on it.