The temperature had to have been higher than a hundred degrees in my storeroom on this recent late afternoon, and I honestly don’t know what I was thinking in even dragging this poor girl back there for a few portraits. Within seconds of shooting we were both sweltering and nearly feeling faint, and had she been under the age of eighteen I no doubt would have been held liable for child endangerment.

This would be an outtake, but for some reason I can’t dismiss it, and while the shoot resulted in a slew of pretty pictures, I’m drawn to the unfeigned rawness of this moment. She’s a model and actress, and couldn’t project anything less than drop dead gorgeousness if she tried, so perhaps subconsciously I led her into this sweatbox in some kind of lame attempt to humanize her beauty. In so many of the images I see of models they appear nearly robotic--aloof and implicitly impervious to life with all its challenges, bad hair and high humidity included. I guess I’m not comfortable with creating separateness based on someone being exceedingly tall, and having good bone structure and symmetrical features.

Interestingly, it seems I go to a great deal of trouble to elevate my regular portrait clients from feeling ordinary to extraordinary, and then get a model in the studio and I unwittingly attempt to knock her down a few notches just to keep it real. Nonetheless, she maintained every bit of her chic composure and striking beauty for the duration of the session. But still, I think I like this image best. Ü



~Cynthia