Friends. Photography. Adventure.

Tag: Black & White (Page 1 of 7)

Screen Time

For the single subject prompt I bring you yet another photo from my lockdown photo project. Sometimes I spent a lot of time working to realise an idea, sometimes I went walking, knowing I’d be taking a photo along the way but with no idea in mind. Then there were the times late at night where I thought ‘Fuck! I haven’t taken today’s photo!’ This is one of them. The time stamp on this image is 22.26. I was still at my desk. I whipped off my top, turned off the light so I was lit just by the light of the screen and snapped a one take shot. Then it was back to work.

Sinful Sunday

Nude

This week I decided to do my take on the #GettyMuseumChallenge (if you haven’t seen it, check out the hashtag – there’s some excellent interpretations) and recreate seven photographs by great photographers.

In the end I found the exercise a little bit frustrating at times. I kept choosing photograph of women with completely different body shapes to mine and then wondering why I couldn’t do accurate interpretations. In the end I relaxed into an ‘influenced by…’ mindset rather than true recreations.

It was Exhibit A’s turn to choose my Sinful Sunday this week and he opted for this one. The original shot, Nude by Edward Weston, features in just about every book of photography nudes I own and constantly crops up in articles. I think it’s a great photo, but reading this week that “the image has since been declared a Modernist paragon for its extraordinary investigation of the human body” just makes me do a massive eye roll at the waffly bollocks of art commentary!

Sinful Sunday

Pucker up

What a strange time we are living in. Right about now many of us would have just laughed and cried and squirmed our way through the Sunday lunchtime readings at Eroticon. What a difficult decision our wonderful Molly had to make on Thursday but it was absolutely the right one and I hope she knows how much love and support there is out there for her.

It’s been an unusual weekend – there’s been moments of pure joy spent with people who travelled to London anyway but those moments have been tinged with strangeness and sadness. I look forward to when we can all get together in our big group again and pucker up for some delicious kisses. Until then we have our nudes and our words.

Sinful Sunday

Awesome Arse

Wednesday was naughty netballer, today is awesome arse. I may not be tired of the photography but my title tank is running on empty. Day seven of sports week is baseball and for your viewing pleasure may I present the wonderful Exhibit A.

As you might expect from a sports junkie like EA, he had some pretty fab ideas for my sports week prompt. Some of which haven’t even been taken yet so who know, maybe there’ll be another sports week next year? As someone who truly thinks golf is the most boring game in the world I didn’t expect to have my mind changed but with some expert positioning he even managed to make that game super hot. One of the photos is being used for Kayla’s next Masturbation Monday prompt.

Then he knocked it out of the park with this one. I must confess, until a couple of days ago I was intending to use that photo because it’s so amazing I wanted it on my site too. But I was overlooking a couple of others we shot at the same time so in the spirit of sharing as much of that day’s productivity as possible, here’s a new photo for you to admire.

February Photofest

Cigarettes After Sex

“I am a respiratory registrar; my day job involves treating smoking-related lung diseases like emphysema and lung cancer but I still believe that in the right circumstances, smoking can be really fucking hot!” The Other Livvy

I’ve known for a while (about two years!) that I’d eventually get round to doing an album cover series. This Cigarettes After Sex cover has been on the list since the beginning. I don’t know much about the band but I was captivated by Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby during the first series Handmaid’s Tale and when I looked the tune up on Spotify I immediately approved of them using this Man Ray image for their cover art.

The title of the album also makes me hugely nostalgic for, well, cigarettes after sex. Cigarettes after sex go together like cheese and wine or strawberries and cream. Like all ex-smokers there’ll always be a part of me that romanticises cigarettes and misses them, even though I know they’re bad for us and ludicrously expensive and make us smell and taste bad. Part of me wishes we didn’t know so much and could all just bust like Marlene Dietrich.

When I was figuring out my February Photo Fest photos I put Livvy’s name against this photo because I knew she’d pull off the Man Ray look so wonderfully. It was only as I started reminiscing about all the excellent post fuck fags I’ve had in tents and fields and manky student bedrooms and lying on lawns of stately houses during May balls that I suddenly thought: “bloody hell, she’s a lung doctor, that’s a totally inappropriate caption for her photo.” Then I remembered the above quote from this post and laughed out loud. She’s right, in the right circumstances smoking can be really fucking hot. Or at least it was.

This spate of nostalgia has been heavily influenced by the re-run of This Life on BBC4 and iPlayer. If you are of a certain age and disposition and are similarly besotted with that programme may I recommend The Guyliner on why you are not and never will be Anna from This Life!

To say the programme influenced my early twenties would be an understatement. The first series broadcast during my last term at university and a few months later as six of us stumbled into a three storey town house in Camden with its primary colour walls and big windows and high ceilings one of us exclaimed: “it‘s just like the This Life house,” and we put the deposit down on the spot. We weren’t lawyers, we were all working in PR, fashion and travel, but we swanned around Camden feeling like we were the This Life gang. When the second series landed in spring 1997 we felt like we were watching ourselves. We had the washing up and stolen yoghurt arguments, we had a couple who at times were not dissimilar to Egg and Milly, we had a flatmate move in a dodgy partner, there were the money dramas, the job dramas and lots and lots of partying, booze and sex.

While we saw our London life and home and co-living dramas reflected back at us and we definitely allowed ourselves to be influenced by it, I didn’t think it had influenced the sex we had that much. I mean, we had a lot of it with a lot of different people, but we were 22 and box fresh graduates with disposable income arriving in Camden amidst the excitement of 1997. If we hadn’t been having a lot of sex we’d have been missing an open goal.

I say I didn’t think the show had influenced the sex we had.

For more than twenty years I’ve had a fantasy about fucking on stage at the Royal Albert Hall. I’ve had many orgasms to that fantasy over the years. The details change. Sometimes the audience are just watching, sometimes they are wanking as they watch. One time David Beckham was in the audience wanking. I always thought it was bizarre that I’d magicked this fantasy up before I’d ever visited the Royal Albert Hall. In recent years I’ve used the fantasy as an example of how I was clearly an exhibitionist even before I’d heard the word or read anything about it. But last week I’m watching This Life and Milly, Egg and Anna are watching porn. “How can people do that in front of a camera?” says Milly, to which Anna retorts: “I’d fuck on stage at the Royal Albert Hall if it meant I was getting some.” Ah!

Oh, I love my life now. I love my solo-living, clean and tidy, smoke-free flat in suburban south London. But fucking hell, if for one day I could just magic myself back to Camden of summer 1997 and be 22 with it all to come and lie in bed listening to the noise of the house and the street as I smoke a cigarette after sex…

February Photofest

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Lounging

Today has been a perfect day. One of my favourite people to spend time alone with is me.

My all day date day started with breakfast in bed, some orgasms and some napping. When I eventually got up it was to take my picnic blanket into the garden where I lounged around eating buttery corn on the cob, reading a magazine cover to cover, exchanged ugly face photos with a friend’s daughters, did some travel planning and ate a Magnum. Then more orgasms with the sun beating down on me, followed by a long snooze as the day cooled down. I’m now enjoying a gin and tonic before I go inside to cook risotto – one of my favourite meals to cook when I’m not in a rush.

The only definite plan I had for today was to take a photo. A run of posts featuring other people means it’s been a long time since I did a self-portrait. But the photos gave way to all the relaxing and when I woke up I couldn’t be bothered. But as I was mixing my G&T I remembered this photo of me from my wonderful day out in the company of women. Although it was taken a couple of weeks back, the chilled out vibe Molly has captured so beautifully perfectly sums up how I feel right now.

Sinful Sunday

More than a couple o’ cupolas

“The Thames is dear to the Londoners. It is the scene of half their pleasures. In the summer season it is ever in their thoughts, and they are often on its bosom.”

A.D., “The Banks and Bosom of the Thames”, The Metropolitan, Volume 41

On Wednesday The Other Livvy, @19syllables and I had a day out to the Tate Modern to see the new (and excellent!) Olafur Eliasson exhibition. Before we headed into the show we popped down to the banks of the Thames so see if there were any photo opportunities. These chains hanging down from a boardwalk seemed just perfect. But the most important question is: do you prefer Christopher Wren’s cupola or those of my beautiful friends?

Sinful Sunday
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