All Good Things

Remember a few weeks back when I reported that Blogger was no longer going to support FTP, and that we would have to either switch the blog to a new format or else stop blogging altogether? Well, after spending a long time chewing (and chewing again) over our options, we’ve reluctantly decided to face reality and close this blog.

I know many of you are going to be upset by this decision (and so am I, believe me) but I’m afraid that it has to happen for many reasons, most of which boil down to the fact that the filmmaking side of things is growing steadily. This is all good of course, but the reality is that we will be working in schools soon and so the risk of others (including the authorities) discovering our Fluffy identities is now starting to outweigh the immense pleasure we get from posting here. Let’s face it folks, I can’t really be a children’s film producer when I’m writing about nude art and plastering myself nekkid all over the internet. The two are somewhat mutually exclusive! Yes I could possibly turn this into a private “restricted” blog – but Rich has very sensibly reminded me that he can’t go back to nude photography any time soon, and that we can’t recycle the old photos forever. How can I run a nude photography blog without nude photos?! Time for me to get real!

Now before everyone thinks that I'm quitting the nude bloggie world, please let me remind you that I’ll still be reading and commenting on all your usual photographic art blogs, so you definitely haven’t seen the last of me! This is a great community of artists and I’m not intending to leave it, even if I can only participate by writing long waffly comments on other folks’ blogs (don’t say I didn’t warn you!) As my workload allows, I’m also toying with the idea of writing more, um...pot-stirring stuff elsewhere. Let’s face it folks, I do love a good argument and as we all know, I can’t stay away from blogging for long, otherwise I get really cranky. So if and when Rich sets me up a shiny new blog (probably after a change in our Government) then I will let everyone know by email, I promise.

We have been blogging on Fluffytek for four years now, and I can honestly say that these have been some of the best years of our lives. We have made some fantastic life-long friends and learned a great deal, not only about photography and art, but also about the nature of friendship and loyalty. And that is all because of you, our close-knit little community, which has welcomed us, fought for us and looked after us for so long. A heartfelt “thank you” to each and every one of you. We love you folks!

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Pirate Maiden

Listening to the Voices

After four years on here, I’m of the opinion that most folks know me pretty well. However, just for fun, I thought I would add some useless trivia about myself for those few who might be interested. So here are six things you never knew about me and probably never wanted to...

1) My favourite novel of all time is Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz. (Lord of the Rings is pretty cool too.)

2) My favourite movie is The Thomas Crown Affair (the remake.) Catherine Banning (Rene Russo) is my icon – the woman I wish I could be. In fact, I reckon I’m most of the way there already *cough* I just need her clothes budget. (Aside: If anyone knows the recipe for the green gloop she drinks for breakfast every day, please can they send it to me, ‘ cos I’ve been searching for it for years....thank you SO much....)

3) Best photography movie: Guinevere (thanks to Stephen for recommending this one.) If you haven’t watched it, then make sure you do one day. Although it's not a fantastically made movie (and the ending is cringeworthy) it will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about around 75% of nude photographers (the other 25% are the ones I’m still talking to.) Honestly, I couldn’t add anything else – it’s all in here – a full photographer’s psychoanalysis in a film. Not an entirely pretty snapshot, but more accurate and insightful than most non-photographic people will ever know. Yes it really IS like that – in my experience anyway (and you can interpret that however you want.)

4) I have three rescue cats: Princess Sophie and two kittens called Leo and Custard. Although I’m a veteran at cat ownership, the kittens were certainly a bit of a challenge, even for me. They were feral and had been beaten and shut in a shed with no lighting and a dog that attacked them. As a result they were terrified of humans and attacked anyone who went near them. No-one else could cope with them so...over to us to try and sort them out. (We specialise in hissing, spitting, unwanted cats.) It took four months of patience, bribery and unrelenting gentleness before they started to trust us enough to come near us. They are curled up on my lap as I type this. In fact, it’s a miracle I can reach the keyboard at all, I have so many cats on me. Success!

5) Real food is incredibly important to me. Some of you know this already of course, but few realise just how fanatical I am about it. The hardest thing in the world for me to do is to keep my mouth shut when friends complain to me about their maladies that could be greatly improved (or better) by simply changing what they shove in their mouths. I just don’t understand why people eat processed food, I really don’t. I try not to talk about it anymore to anyone because I always wind up being really offensive. Always. It’s not a good trait, I’m afraid.

6) I am a crap photographer. No matter how hard I try (oh, for over twenty years now) I still suck. I can study photographic theory until I’m blue in the face, but we all know that taking a really “good” photograph involves a lot more than theory. You knew about my lack of photographic ability already. I’ve never made a secret of it.

However, what you might not know is that I have aspired to be an artist (the painting kind, not the writing kind), oh, since forever. Once upon a time (in my teens) I wasn’t bad at it either. In fact I was a straight A art student, but my parents forced me to stop studying it “and learn something useful instead, something that will make decent money.” (Hence my career in law/accountancy and my preoccupation with $$$, I’m guessing. Parents, eh? Don’t-cha just love ‘em?!)

Well enough already. For nearly thirty years now, there has been a tiny voice at the back of my mind, nagging me to stop looking at pretty pictures and get off my fat, insecure ass and make some real ones myself. I was the mistress of prevarication, always finding excuse after excuse. Frankly, I never thought I was good enough. But the voice in my head has become louder and louder until recently it started to REALLY YELL at me that I was running out of time and I’d better bloody well get on with it. So finally, finally, I’m going to listen to the tiny voice and actually try. Now, I don’t aspire to be really good. “Passable” would be just dandy. Really I’m just trying it “to see if I can.” This is a new hobby for me, a new adventure. So wish me luck - and before you ask, I'm far too shy to ever show my efforts here. But here's my blubbery ass instead:

Smiling is Not Art

No smiling please - we're artists

Instead of me blathering on about the High Art Nude photography today, I’m going to ask you – my trusty readers - to enlighten me for a change (this is a cunning plan to get you folks to do all the hard work!)

I was talking to an artist acquaintance of mine recently (a portrait painter not a photographer) and he was talking about the difficulties involved in pleasing clients. In particular, one of the most common complaints from his clients is that he always refuses to paint them smiling. “You can’t smile in a portrait,” he said. “It’s trite. Smiles are only for photos.”

“Nope, not true,” said I. “Models can’t smile in fine art photographs either. We usually have to look sultry or stay expressionless, and that’s if we even get to show our faces at all.”

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Iveta - with very standard "fine art nude" expression

And it’s true. It’s rare that I see a fine art photographic print (whether portrait or figure nude) where the model is smiling. That’s not always the case of course, but mostly. I’m not including outtakes either – yes I know that your models have immense fun and that shoots are always hoots, but let’s face it guys, how many prints do you actually SELL of happy, giggling models?

And what I want to know is why is it that fine art photography is so devoid of humour? Now I'm not daft (well, not normally!) and I do know that it’s all supposed to be about lighting, form and shadow but what the hell is wrong with interjecting a bit of positive emotion into the image? Would a happy model affect the lighting? Would showing the model’s face – actually smiling - make the image less erotic, less psychologically deep, less atmospheric, less ANYTHING in fact? I think not. What’s wrong with a bit of happiness now and again? Why does showing the photographic subject displaying (positive) emotion mean that it is not commercially viable Art? Why does emotionless anonymity sell and joyous expression not? Do collectors really prefer to hang faceless bodies on their walls? (Please note that I’m not being deliberately provocative here - well maybe just a little, but I really do want to know.)

Maybe I should start a “Happy Nudes” campaign? At least it would reflect the truth of making art – that it is indeed a heckuva lot of fun.

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Why does smiling change the genre?

P.S. If you would like to see a stunning fine art nude photo that really does make me smile with delight, see Michael V’s latest shot here. Isn’t she radiant?

Dear Mr Cosmos...

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Alexis and the pouffe cushion

It’s coming up to THAT time of year again – you know, the most important part where I work my big fat ass off and make some money for a change. The newspapers tell us that technically we are out of recession, but I’m not buying it and nor is anyone else who I have talked to recently. Most folks I know (in all business spheres) are still making horrible losses and this will be a “make or break” year for them, as it will be for us too. But enough doom and gloom...we are well down the road towards “Plan B” (I didn’t marry a VFX genius for nothing) and let’s just wait and see where it leads us.

During the next month my priorities are – in order of importance - my young daughter (who is undergoing a rather intense course of therapy for her speech problems that requires my daily input), my teenage sons (traumatic exams pending), a fair few 60+ hour work weeks (no choice about that – we have to eat), one new web site to write copy for, one script to write, thirty-two short films to watch and write reviews for, not to mention two blogs to run – oh and I’m sure I have a husband around somewhere too – if only I could remember where I put him....

I guess this is a heart-felt plea to Mr Cosmos to give me more time – no, scrap that – more time whilst earning a decent income! (Be careful what you wish for – wishes have to be very specific, you know, as Mr Cosmos has a nasty tendency towards interpreting to the letter-of-the-wish.) At the moment, I find that time is more precious than gold or jewels (although I’m rather partial to the odd chunky emerald if the aforementioned Mr Cosmos is feeling generous.)

What I really need is a rich sugar daddy to pay all my bills and whisk me away to a log cabin somewhere (anywhere, just as long as it has an internet connection) so that I can finish the web site, write a winning script and be inspired about all those wretched film reviews (not that the films are wretched – in fact they are rather good – it’s just the sheer number of them, you know?) plus write up several-draft-posts-that-I-have-started for this wonderful blog, that are simply too offensive to be published in their current state and need to be heavily revised so that they are in an American-friendly-format, (you Yanks require delicate phrasing and a great deal of tact – I have learned this the hard way over the last four years!), revised again, typed up and uploaded.

(That last sentence was a grammatical disaster zone - sorry!)

But can I find the time for my beloved writing? I cannot. Real life keeps getting in the way.

So, dear Mr Cosmos, please find me the time to write...write like I really, truly want to...and to get paid handsomely for it..?!! I’ll be terribly, awfully grateful...

Thanx. Much appreciated.

Yours sincerely,

Yr. Fluffy Writer.

AlexisSummers 977

I've never worn that belt again since this...

Warts and All

“If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.”

Kahlil Gibran

I first started writing a diary when I was thirteen years old and I had a crush on my English teacher. I bought a tiny diary which I filled with pages and pages of passion, drama and hormonal angst which is fairly typical of moody teenagers everywhere. Everything was important in those days – my heart would be broken simply if he ignored me or worse, if he criticised my (pretty appalling) girly teenage writing. The crush lasted for several years. The poor bloke, I wonder if he ever knew how many journals I filled writing about him. On the other hand – he was the one who made me realise I wanted to be a writer one day, so I certainly owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

I kept a diary for many years. Many teenage girls keep them, mainly as somewhere that they can let off steam in private, a therapy to work through private thoughts that cannot be shared anywhere else. “Dear Diary...” is a way of expressing “the real you” that you cannot show your Mum or Dad. Diaries are secret things and the whole point of them is that you should always tell the truth. They must be as explicit as possible – how else can you purge what you really feel unless you are totally honest with yourself? Your diary is your soul. It is who you are.

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Many moons ago we were having some pretty extensive building work done on our house and I was horrified to find that one of our building contractors (who had a crush on me) had gone through my private hidden belongings and had helped himself to a volume-or-three of my diaries. I only found out when his mates started quoting me the gory details of my (at the time, rather adventurous) sex life. To say I was horrified, shocked and appalled would be the understatement of the decade. I stopped writing a diary on that very day and I’ve never kept once since. Nowadays of course, I blog instead, albeit not to the same intimate and explicit levels (which is a relief all round, I’m sure.) After that episode I actually feel more comfortable sharing my life on a public forum with a bunch of people I have never met than I do actually keeping my thoughts in a locked (but physical and therefore covetable) journal.

Unlike some bloggers, I really try very hard not to have a blogging persona. It is important to me to be myself here as much as possible. What you see is what you get. I write pretty much the way I used to in my diaries, minus the intimate stuff. The trouble is with bloggie personas, if you play an online role that isn’t really “you” then when you eventually meet your bloggie friends in person, they then find that they don’t really know you at all, and then you get found out. Like my diaries, I always feel that it is important to tell it like it is, warts and all, and I am invariably drawn to bloggers who do the same (and you all know who you are.)

Blogging does no good unless you are brutally honest about yourself. It is important to tell the truth, for the sake of yourself and your readers. If you conceal your real life and your thoughts, if you invent an online persona of who you would like to be, if you exaggerate and fabricate your life, then you are lying to yourself and your readers. In such cases your blog will ultimately fail because it will not be a true record of who you are and how you feel. It will not be your sanctuary, your therapy – instead it will be a fraud to the highest possible degree.

After four years of blogging, if I have any advice to offer potential bloggers, it is this:

Assume all your secrets will be found out one day. Always write with this in mind. And tell the truth. Always. No exceptions.

I guess I learned that lesson the hard way.

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Steamy images are of Syd and AJ