The Wild Gene

As a model I believe that I should suffer for my Art. As I have said before, my taste in photography and Richard’s does differ somewhat.
I tend to be drawn towards more story-related images. Pictures that actually make you think, rather than, wow, those are lovely boobies (although the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive)

I am also the proud inheritant of a wild gene that runs through my family on my mother’s side. The gene means that those members of my family in which it appears, manifest wild tendencies. During the second world war, my mother boasted seven boyfriends at once! At once ? I could never cope with more than two at any one time without having a nervous breakdown. What amazing time-management skills she must have had!
My brother breaks and races wild horses for fun. My niece races Dodge Vipers and is addicted to any adrenaline rush that's going. And my nephew ended up with a career in the sex industry (and let’s just leave it there, shall we)

So my family background goes some way towards explaining why I took to nude modelling like a duck to water. Being a lawyer and accountant is about as tame as they come. Superficially, there's not much room for wildness in those career options (what accountants really get up to is a story for another day, and the subject of a future novel !)

However when I started with the nude modelling, at last I was having a heck of a lot of fun. The wild gene could express itself, and as time went on, I was increasingly drawn towards more challenging styles. By challenging, I don’t mean goth-type horror photography in which the model is drenched in fake-blood and tied to a crucifix (tacky, tacky, tacky). I mean modelling styles which are harder to do physically and mentally, especially when you’re a geriatric model like me.

I am talking about fantastic models like Iris Dassault, who has posted some amazing and challenging modelling styles. Or Cheeky Lee, who posted a beautiful image where she was in a stream (yikes, that must have been cold!)

I guess there’s a bit of a masochist in me somewhere, because I am definitely going down the route of feeding the wild gene. For example, my bondage pictures (most of which I haven't shown) were a big leap for a closet yummy-mummy like me. The image of me covered in mud and freezing water would definitely classify as suffering for my Art. The image of me in the snow (below) left me with ice burns on my back for days afterwards. Worth it for the Art ? Yep, you bet ! I actually felt like I’d really achieved something after that shoot.

And for me, unless you get the kick of having fed your creative craving, there’s no point in attempting Art.

When you finally “hit the spot”, taken the “killer image”, that one picture in a shoot where you just know that’s the keeper, only then can you create real Art.

Only then can you know that you’ve realised your inner potential.

And only then can your wild gene be satiated.