Three of my self portraits and a conceptual bondage picture that I shot of my good friend, are amongst the pieces displayed at this annual erotic art show. In one of the pictures, I was playing around in front of the camera with a “clamshell” lighting set up that my boyfriend had left out, and caught my hair in the perfect “woosh” - a cropped version of that photo is what’s currently my Facebook “main” profile pic (and the main pic on this blog entry).
The other three pictures, I don’t feel comfortable posting online, eventhough they’re considerably more clothed. You’ll have to go in person to see them hanging on the wall. There is another trippy twist to this, which pretty much all my friends know, but I probably won’t be writing about publicly (if you go to NaughtiGras, you will probably figure it out, depending how much attention you pay to the photos).
I hesitated to put my logo, my real name, on the pieces. There is something about sensual self portraits, and bondage photos (even if it’s completely implied and super classy), which is incredibly psychologically intimate. My boyfriend and good friends encouraged me, because it’s classy work that I’m proud of, and wanting to sell, and which I won’t be posting online.
Because it is totally implied and materially covered up (or would take 2 seconds to airbrush an accidental nipple), and because I have pretty sure that Amanda will be posting the pic I shot of her, it’s sure tempting to want to post online! Whenever I feel tempted to post such work proudly online under my real name, I ask myself how I’d feel if my 13 year old nephew, or an employer/corporate client, discovered them.
I could really over-think things and worry about people taking digital pictures and sharing them online, but pictures of art on a wall don’t seem as controversial as the non-grainy, deliberately self posted, type. Honestly, I don’t mind the free marketing. I’m only making those prints being exhibited.
Anyway, this will be my fourth year attending, and first as an exhibited artist. The first year, I went with an snobby exboyfriend after a dinner at Al’s Steakhouse, and quietly felt superior to all the freaky artist people. The second year, I went with Ron and we thought of how informal pics he’d shot of me the previous week was just as good as what anyone else was showing. The third year, last year, he was an exhibitor with two larger than life anonymous prints of me (including one of the “informal” pics he’d taken the previous year)… and this year, I’m going as an artist in my own right!
I am so excited!