What’s in a name?

More observant readers will notice that we’re playing around with our Fluffytek blog title at the moment (well spotted Jimmy!) We’re not really sure what to call it to be honest. For a long time it was “Fluffytek Photographic Art” which was all well and good until Richard took up CGI, whereupon we changed it to “Fluffytek Art Blog” which was nice and general and would cover just about anything Rich wanted to create including mutant-cyber-boobies-from-Venus, or whatever pot-brained idea he came up with next. But the title didn’t really grab you by the balls, if you know what I mean. Time for a re-think, perhaps?

So I was delivering a cup of tea to Rich yesterday afternoon, as he was sitting at his computer, playing with his virtual breasts as usual.

“Are you ever going to create any art that hasn’t got boobies in it?” I asked, eyeing up the cyber-model’s humongous shiny bazookas that were on the screen.

“Probably not,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

“They look like giant pink watermelons,” said my teenage son, appearing from nowhere, as often seems to happen, almost by magic, when pictures of boobies are around.

So once we had booted out the peeping Tom, we discussed the blog further and decided to change the title to “Fluffytek Nudes.” But I’m still not happy. No doubt “Fluffytek Nudes” would significantly bump up our Google hits and internet visibility, but it also will most likely result in the local constabulary banging on the door. Don’t forget it’s Big Brother Country over here. Blogs are monitored very closely.

Anyway, you’re going to see some experimenting with the title for the next few weeks. Please do ignore it (unless you can make some suggestions, which will of course be very welcome.) We’re just playing with ideas, and will probably go back to “Fluffytek Art Blog” in the end. The police don’t seem to mind about this sort of thing too much, as long as we keep it relatively tasteful and call it “art.”Ironically, if we posted the same pictures and writing, but called ourselves pornographers, then our servers would be seized by the cops in no time. Go figure.

Changing the subject slightly, modelling pseudonyms have always fascinated me. I always end up thinking of models by their modelling name, long after I find out their real one. It’s almost as if their modelling name reflects the “real them” more than their real-life name.

When I first started modelling, I decided to give myself a nice, feminine girly makeover, and name myself after a flower. But it had to be the right flower, so as to reflect “the real me.” So my first modelling name was “Dracunculus” after “Dracunculus vulgaris,” the Voodoo Lily or Rotting Flesh Plant. Definitely VERY me. It’s splendid 3 ft purple phallic flower looks like a bit of a monster and smells exactly like rotting flesh for two weeks a year. (I plant them in our garden next to the neighbours’ fence - I don’t like the neighbours much.) But as I consider myself fairly evil, it seemed an apt name. (Aside to potential photographers: please note that I do not actually smell of rotting flesh, even if I often feel like it. I smell of violets mostly, and sometimes chocolate cake. Honestly.)

Anyhoo, the problem with “Dracunculus” was that no-one could spell it, and photographers thought it meant they could shoot goth-horror-dripping-blood-nudes with me (no kidding) so Rich recommended I change it temporarily to the innocuous “L-von-B” until I decided how I wanted to be seen in the modelling world.

Several years later, I’ve given up deciding, and now I mostly just go by my real name. Somewhere along the way in the last few months, especially after my recent faux-pas resulting in me being outed in the local yummy mummy community, I mostly just stopped caring about what other people thought of me being a middle-aged nude model, and decided that the modelling me was actually the real me. Even if it is embarrassing when people find out that I model nude, I no longer hide it, and I can’t be bothered to go back to all the secrecy drama.

Strip the clothes off the woman often enough, let her wander free, naked and as herself, and the layers of pretence, hang-ups and social conditioning will gradually fall away over time. In the end you’re just left with the real person. No fake names necessary any more.

And that process towards “the real you,” is what IMO makes nude photography so amazing, and why every woman should do it.

Although I certainly wouldn’t object to some giant pink watermelon boobies, even if they’re not real.



Lynx. Magnificent.