A Creepy Week
This has been a week of creeps and refusals, or maybe refusals of creeps, if you see what I mean.
On Tuesday I was approached by My First Creep. I kinda feel like I have graduated now….obviously I am a real and valued model, and at least somewhat attractive, if I receive such salubrious offers from such quality photographers.
To be fair, he really did pay extremely well, but unfortunately his web site was basically older models, in ordinary clothes, shot doing a slow striptease. In order to see the full monty, you have to pay to enter. There was no studio. The models in the site varied from around my age to around 65, and I’m sure they are lovely ladies in person, but the photos were of very poor quality and did them no justice at all. They were filmed stripping on the beach, in the back of a car park, and at various secluded forest locations. I mean, what in Gods name possesses a woman to go out into a remote area of our local forest to shoot with a complete stranger who is obviously …er…creepy ? Yes, I’m being naïve, aren’t I ? I’m sure the photographer in question is a very nice chap, but honestly, he could be a mad axe murderer, for all I know.
If I had accepted the modelling assignment, I would have been featured on a pay-per-view site, with my very own email address via the site, so that viewers (no doubt jacking themselves off over my Marks and Spencer undies) could contact me direct. I wonder who would have replied to these emails ? It sure as hell wouldn’t have been me. I doubt if my reply of “Die Vile Maggot!” would have been particularly alluring, or increased his subscriptions much. Then again, it might. I guess I’ll never know.
I’m ashamed to admit that I felt physically sick after this email exchange. It took me at least an hour to stop ranting. Rich, of course, was the perfect gentleman and dispensed cuddles and a cup of camomile tea in order to calm me down and stop me removing my portfolio from all the modelling sites. My 8 year old son was also magnificently supportive and offered to “duff ‘im in” for me, whatever that means (He wants to be James Bond when he grows up).
24 hours later, I was actually able to think about modelling again without feeling nauseous. I really need to develop a much thicker skin, don’t I? As an ex-auditor, I really did think I had a formidably thick hide, but clearly this does not extend to modelling.
On Thursday I was then approached by a phenomenally aggressive journalist of a national women’s magazine. She wanted to interview me and write My Life’s Story. This wasn’t about nude modelling (at least not initially) but is to do with the weird healthy diet of which I partake, and which I am EXPRESSLY FORBIDDEN to mention on the blog by Rich (who is sick of the whole thing).
Now I wouldn’t have minded, but this woman was incredibly pushy and rather creepy, and she wasn’t remotely interested in the science behind the diet. She was clearly not a quality journalist, but wanted to do a sensationalist story about me, and “mention the science in passing as our readers aren’t really interested in that sort of thing”. I would have been portrayed as a perverted nude anorexic weirdo trying to live forever via starvation. I kid you not. The last interview I did for an online diet magazine three months ago resulted in major misquoting, resulting in the complete opposite of what I was trying to say and an article which I would rather forget about and bury somewhere very dark.
Anyway, I refused to partake of the said interview. Exit angry and frustrated journalist. Again, my thin skin let me down. This would have been my 15 minutes of fame, I guess. Oh well. I’ve always been the type of person who prefers to remain in the undergrowth.
Since then I have spent way to much time baking horribly fattening cakes (which I always do when I get stressed out, like Izzie from Greys Anatomy), resulting in Rich moaning about getting pudgy whilst munching on a coconut and apricot muffin.
Me. Hiding in a remote area of our back garden, covered in mud and icy cold water. I had a chill for a week after this shoot. Don’t ever say that I don’t suffer for my Art !
On Tuesday I was approached by My First Creep. I kinda feel like I have graduated now….obviously I am a real and valued model, and at least somewhat attractive, if I receive such salubrious offers from such quality photographers.
To be fair, he really did pay extremely well, but unfortunately his web site was basically older models, in ordinary clothes, shot doing a slow striptease. In order to see the full monty, you have to pay to enter. There was no studio. The models in the site varied from around my age to around 65, and I’m sure they are lovely ladies in person, but the photos were of very poor quality and did them no justice at all. They were filmed stripping on the beach, in the back of a car park, and at various secluded forest locations. I mean, what in Gods name possesses a woman to go out into a remote area of our local forest to shoot with a complete stranger who is obviously …er…creepy ? Yes, I’m being naïve, aren’t I ? I’m sure the photographer in question is a very nice chap, but honestly, he could be a mad axe murderer, for all I know.
If I had accepted the modelling assignment, I would have been featured on a pay-per-view site, with my very own email address via the site, so that viewers (no doubt jacking themselves off over my Marks and Spencer undies) could contact me direct. I wonder who would have replied to these emails ? It sure as hell wouldn’t have been me. I doubt if my reply of “Die Vile Maggot!” would have been particularly alluring, or increased his subscriptions much. Then again, it might. I guess I’ll never know.
I’m ashamed to admit that I felt physically sick after this email exchange. It took me at least an hour to stop ranting. Rich, of course, was the perfect gentleman and dispensed cuddles and a cup of camomile tea in order to calm me down and stop me removing my portfolio from all the modelling sites. My 8 year old son was also magnificently supportive and offered to “duff ‘im in” for me, whatever that means (He wants to be James Bond when he grows up).
24 hours later, I was actually able to think about modelling again without feeling nauseous. I really need to develop a much thicker skin, don’t I? As an ex-auditor, I really did think I had a formidably thick hide, but clearly this does not extend to modelling.
On Thursday I was then approached by a phenomenally aggressive journalist of a national women’s magazine. She wanted to interview me and write My Life’s Story. This wasn’t about nude modelling (at least not initially) but is to do with the weird healthy diet of which I partake, and which I am EXPRESSLY FORBIDDEN to mention on the blog by Rich (who is sick of the whole thing).
Now I wouldn’t have minded, but this woman was incredibly pushy and rather creepy, and she wasn’t remotely interested in the science behind the diet. She was clearly not a quality journalist, but wanted to do a sensationalist story about me, and “mention the science in passing as our readers aren’t really interested in that sort of thing”. I would have been portrayed as a perverted nude anorexic weirdo trying to live forever via starvation. I kid you not. The last interview I did for an online diet magazine three months ago resulted in major misquoting, resulting in the complete opposite of what I was trying to say and an article which I would rather forget about and bury somewhere very dark.
Anyway, I refused to partake of the said interview. Exit angry and frustrated journalist. Again, my thin skin let me down. This would have been my 15 minutes of fame, I guess. Oh well. I’ve always been the type of person who prefers to remain in the undergrowth.
Since then I have spent way to much time baking horribly fattening cakes (which I always do when I get stressed out, like Izzie from Greys Anatomy), resulting in Rich moaning about getting pudgy whilst munching on a coconut and apricot muffin.
Me. Hiding in a remote area of our back garden, covered in mud and icy cold water. I had a chill for a week after this shoot. Don’t ever say that I don’t suffer for my Art !
posted by Lin at 4:17 PM
4 Comments:
While I certainly can't vouch for a photographers "creepiness" [for all I know someone is calling ME "creepy" right now], I would hazard that no self-respecting axe-murderer would set up something as complicated as a pay-per-view website with all of his victims on it. The billing trail alone would be awfully tell-tale.
From your description, the site sounds like a 30+ version of Suicide Girls more than anything else. You mentioned the poor quality of the photography -- to a lot of [paying] viewers, an amateurish look to erotic/porn imagery is a BIG turn-on. The "creepy" photographer may just be lousy, but there IS a [big] audience for what he seems to be selling...MUCH bigger than the market for an "artiste" such as myself.
I find it pays not to judge...even if you really don't like something...
Just my .02
Yes I appreciate your point. And I feel like I've been soundly told off !
However this blog is about my feelings, and if I find something creepy, then I do think I have the right to tell it how I see it. My feelings may be naive, unsophisticated and misguided, but that does not make them any less valid :-)
Lin and Richard, I really like that photograph. There's a story there.
-Don
You certainly are entitled to express your opinion in your journal or anywhere else you wish...but don't forget your husband's experience with the camera club -- I'm sure they felt entitled to exclude and denigrate both him and his work. Maybe they even think he's "creepy." Their opinion may be "valid," but that hardly makes it accurate or fair.
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