How do you talk about something immensely beautiful if you don’t mention something ugly first? What is beautiful? What is ugly? And where do I stand? Let’s find out.
I met S almost 12 years ago, though I think we’ve been in touch for a couple of years online until then. I was doing my first modelling job outside of my region, and I also had my boundaries violated for the first time, and I had my first rape on a work place. Sad to say it was not going to be the last.
L, your typical over 50 years old dude with a camera and a sleazy smile, came to pick me up at the station and we walked to his studio. He seemed nice, though with the experience I have now, or even the experience that I gained after two years of modelling after that specific event, I know he was a disgusting individual. But I was 19 back then, and I had no idea people could be like that.
L showed me the changing room and left me to my privacy but after the first series of photos, he followed me with the excuse he wanted to see what I could wear next, though we were aiming to shoot mostly nudes.
Let me open a little bracket here, I want to explain to all of you that ask me why, when I do decide to model nowadays, I only and exclusively do nudes. It’s very simple, I don’t undress for you on or off camera, the clothes are on or off; strip tease is another kind of service that needs consent and a respectable payment. So, when someone emails me and says they want to do a bit of fashion, a bit of lingerie and a bit of nude, I say no. Simple. I know yours is an excuse to see me naked but because deep down you are ashamed and scared I’m going to see your hard on if the first thing you see through your lens is my pussy, you need to warm up to it and manipulate me into thinking this is all in the name of art, when you can’t even fucking set your lights right because you are not a photographer.
There are exceptions! And those kind of guys are happy if I start naked and we do clothed portraits later if that’s what works best for me, for the light and for the location. I like when Rob Ellis just goes with the flow, he has such a great energy! Sometimes we don’t even shoot nudes because I really just matter as a human being with an identity, and my way of posing, and my body has an artistic purpose whether I’m dressed or not. That’s genuine. I like when Adolfo Valente just says “ah nah let’s just do nude, that’s what I do really”. And I immediately feel free and safe. Why don’t these guys teach at workshops? Why is it always some fucked up disgusting ugly sleazy pig?
L told me that what I wanted to wear next looked fine, he sat on the chair by the window and stared at me. I put my gown on, and changed underneath. You can photograph my tonsils through my asshole if that’s what we agreed on, but you do not look at me changing in between sets, that’s private and you being there is a violation of my privacy.
L asked me if I would like to pose with toys, I asked what toys, he said sex toys. I felt embarrassed. And you know what? I would feel embarrassed even now that I am happy to shoot sexual content, because I want to know in advance what we are going to do, and I know it doesn’t always work like that in the mainstream adult industry and that’s why it’s fucked up. I said no and felt strangely guilty because I thought that I must have misunderstood something or maybe that was just normal. It was my second photo shoot ever. L then asked me if I wanted to have sex with him, I nervously smiled and said no. I didn’t know how to get out of the situation and was not sure of how to react because nothing like that has ever happened to me but I could feel that was not normal. He smiled back and said that it was ok and that we could carry on shooting. And we did for a while and it seemed alright. To the point it wasn’t alright anymore.
I exhausted myself with guilt and shame towards myself. I wondered for years why I didn’t leave, why I allowed that to happen. When they describe rape, they picture a dark alleyway, an aggressive violation, a scary looking junky or a big guy three times your size. So, when other kinds of rape happen, we don’t register them as such... we just live our lives soaked in silent trauma. And these rapists go around unpunished and have the excuse for themselves: “she didn’t say no” “she didn’t try to push me away so I’m sure she didn’t mean no in a non verbal way”.
How about when you’re doing something to someone and you realise they are not really there with you mentally?
That’s what happened to me, I dissociated, and I don’t remember if I’ve ever done that before this particular event, but that’s the first time I can recall doing that.
L went down on me, he said it would make me feel better and relaxed, and it would make me look good in the photos. It sounds so shady and obvious now but back then I didn’t know what normality was in the fine-art nude industry, so I let him do what he wanted for a while and I don’t remember when exactly it stopped but it did. I didn’t feel afraid, I didn’t feel bad, I just stopped feeling altogether and only years later I learned that it’s a legit defence mechanism.
Afterwards, L insisted to walk me to the hotel, I asked him not to a few times but he just took my suitcase and walked with me. I had booked a double room for a shoot with S in the evening, and G booked another room to shoot with another model, and the idea was to maybe shoot something all together and then go for a drink. Me having a double room, allowed L to come upstairs with me, and there was an hour to go before S would come around. I didn’t know how to behave in front of the receptionist, and I was still all fucked up from the experience, but I didn’t want L to come up with me. He just followed me with the excuse he would help with the suitcase. He asked me if he could take more photos of me because the room looked nice, I found my guts out of exhaustion and said I’d rather leave some exclusivity to S end because no one was paying me and it was all money out of my pocket, I felt entitled to just say that. It was the beginning; I did many collaborative shoots and invested in my portfolio, that’s how it worked for freelance art models. L sat on the bed and asked me to sit next to him, and I did, and he caressed my arm and I asked why he felt the necessity to constantly touch me, he said it was because it was for him so difficult to decipher me, so his only way to get closer was to touch me. Well, that’s fucked up, and I knew that it didn’t make any sense, and I started to come back to myself, I stood up and said we needed to go downstairs because S would be there any moment.
We went down and waited in the hall, I could not understand why he would not just leave. S arrived, by then I was so broken inside I could not believe I didn’t have to feel alone anymore, I have never met S in person but I was so happy to see him. We decided to go for a drink and L autoinvited himself. G joined us, and I think his model was with us too. We sat at the bar, chatting, drinking, and I continued to feel violated because L was there, and I felt ashamed, and ugly, and trapped. How fucked up is this dude? Is he still alive? Is he ok with himself?
It’s time to talk about beauty now, and now I know it would have been beautiful even without this ugly experience preceding it. Of course my psyche was damaged but I was still me, and could still fall in love and see sex for the beautiful thing that it was and it is and it forever will be for me.
We came back to the hotel and had a little session all together, it was fun and light, creative and friendly, in the presence of these two male photographers and a girl I’ve never met before, I felt safe and respected, and that was like a healing balm on a wound.
G and the model left, and S and I had a shoot and I felt so free, and sensual, and also a bit shy, and tense, and probably clumsy because I never had a shoot like that before, only with G but he is a bit of a control freak so he guided me in every movement and pose. S would look at the room, at the ambience light, at my skin, he’d pick a spot that worked best and then he would just let me do what I felt like doing. It was fascinating to see someone work so gracefully and sharply, to see their passion for what they do, and their understanding of the implied respect that needs to run between two human beings working together, especially if one of them is in a more vulnerable situation.
I felt so attracted it was impossible to hide it, and if you look at the photos now you can see it. And S was attracted too but we did what the artists do, we channelled that energy into a good work flow.
After the shoot he asked me if he could have a shower, and I said yes and thought that he didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want him to leave either. After that I brushed my teeth to wash off the smell of beer and he looked at me and said he wanted to see how I did it, and my hand was shaking and I couldn’t stop smiling. That was ok, that was consensual, that was mutual attraction and teasing.
We then spent hours laying on the bed, talking, or just breathing in the silence, and we kissed.
That’s how it started, me healing myself through photography, but what I had that night with S was just pure in itself, and through this writing process I learned that something beautiful is just intrinsically beautiful no matter what you go through in your life. Kissing S after a wonderful shoot together was just a beautiful moment, and the rest of the world disappeared, the good and the bad were gone. So I don’t think we need fucked up shit in our life in order to appreciate the ecstatic.
Now I know, and now I can stop clinging to the ugly, and my darkness is just who I am and who I want to be and it would have been there without rape and physical and psychological abuse of any sort. Some people are just cancer and they don’t deserve any credit, they need help and they need to be held accountable.
I still love these photos so much, they are proof that not all my choices were wrong or manipulated, and that there is beauty in the world, and that some people are just wonderful artists.
