Tag: breasts

David Meskhi – from When Earth Seems to Be Light series Title Unknown 2008.

Meskhi’s website presents his as a photographer preoccupied with athletes, skateboarders and soldiers. Shooting predominately flat black and white, his inclusion of occasional, irreverent bursts of color do nex to nothing to lessen the work’s dour murk.

By contrast– and as suggested by the title– his When Earth Seems to Be Light series is full or warmth and whimsy.

It’s maybe not good but it is undeniably more accessible than the other work showcased.

It is incomprehensible that this image does not appear on the site. Instead, another image of the same young woman–Anna, apparently is featured. The second image isn’t bad; it’s casual immediacy seems forced, as if it seeking to neuter the sentimental nostalgia.

And I see how someone could read the image I posted could as self-indulgently sentimental. It is a little; However, that’s not always a bad thing–arrive for the nostalgia, stay for the Art.

In this case, neither sentimentality or nostalgia pull me in. It’s the sheen of water droplets on her skin, the texture of her wet hair. And I absolutely love how she is turned away– it reminds me of the hypothesis posited by either Edward Snow or John Berger that the young woman in Vermeer’s Girl with the Pearl Earring is simultaneously turning toward and away from the viewer. (If you’ve got seven minutes to kill, check out: a physicist tackling this question.)

I confess that this image does cause me to lapse nostalgic. But that is due to the content more than anything pertaining to the execution. See although I am in my… er… well, further from my teens than I have ever been, I missed out on a lot of normal– at least for John Hughes movies–social rites of passage.

I played Spin the Bottle a handful of times but was always told that at least one of the people playing had promised my mom that they would make sure I didn’t play. I would beg and plead but there would always be a caveat that if the bottle landed on me, the most I could do would be choose two other people to kiss. (The stopped letting me play altogether when I began suggesting two boys or two girls should kiss.)

I also realized sometime last year that I have never been skinny dipping. And it’s not that the repressive environment I grew up in was so effective and getting kids to not be kids. It was more that I wasn’t invited to gatherings where those types of things happened.

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to go skinny dipping this year. But the truth is I have just as many people to go with then as I do now.

Source: butterfliesndhurricanes-blog

rawpix:

Jun3rd♥hide…†o/dream(Matthieu Soudet)★

Untitled/Ophelia 2010

Browsing this kid’s work makes me think I’d be better off selling my gear, taking a vow of silence and dedicating whatever remains of my life to asceticism.

A year from now I will still almost certainly be reeling in response to his Different Ways.

Then I find out he shoots with a Canon 5D mark II (GAH, digital!); that Photoshop was never invoked on this image and he remained unaware of any correlation with Hamlet or J. M. Millais’ painting of Ophelia until Flickr users inquired whether or not he intended such striking similarities.

How much is true and how much is personal mythology– I haven’t the foggiest notion, honestly. The answer doesn’t change fuck all, though– talent is talent is talent.

Source: thisghostship

girlsrule-subsdrool:

Gonna have to tie this tight for it to stay on when I pull!

When I see this image my first thought isn’t the square format/cropping, the way close-up diminishes context and affects questions of consent in BDSM imagery or the numerous technical shortfalls. No, my singular thought is: I want to be her.

To be teased with the gentlest of tugs; a smidgen harder and a simple length of twine becomes an effective, improvised lead; too hard and everything comes undone in an exquisite moment w pain attenuates almost immediately—even if it will be hours, days maybe, before it fully ebbs.

I can almost feel the sharp premonitions stretching ache into sting on towards hurt; I nearly whisper:

Please, not too fast this time—make it last. Don’t let the world suddenly bloom bright with pain too soon. Please. Make me earn the relief and sadness which rush in after like swollen tide churning grey sand.

Source: zenvibe

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There’s a cropped, desaturated version of this with nearly 5K notes.

I’m not knocking it altogether—whoever shopped it had to have some fierce chops to dodge the area around the right eye while keeping the skin tone throughout consistent.

The edit emphasizes the young woman as a signifier of conventional beauty norms. It’s a flat casual shot.

It’s not how it reads in color, with the original framing.

This way the image is not flat. The single source of illumination is a skylight visible in the top-right corner of the frame. There is a dynamic contrast range—dark underexposed shadow areas to bright overexposed light pooling on the young woman’s skin.

And this way the awkward framing the removes the top of the young woman’s head and deletes her feet is logically explained by additional context—namely, the room is very small and the image maker is likely backed against a wall.

The original resonates with a warmth and intimacy—the antithesis of casuality.

This post is guest curated by azura09:

When I had a crashpad membership recently, one of my favorite videos included a scene where a Domme made her sub hold the chain to her nipple clamps in the manner above while she was aggressively fucked.

There were many things I liked about this scene: how the Domme was assertive without being cruel, how the sub followed orders in an almost casual way, and how gleeful this sustained rough sex obviously made both of them.

It’s true that there are some tricky things to navigate when one partner enjoys being objectified during sex, and I certainly wouldn’t want to downplay the reservations some people may have toward this kind of roleplay. 

Then again, I don’t want to avoid the fact that I find consensual objectification, especially when my girlfriend is hellbent on being a good girl, hot.

In reasons related to this, I’m attracted to how the girl in this photo is holding the chain fast between her teeth as if the idea of decreasing the pain to her nipples has occurred to her, but she is wholly intent on resisting this impulse.

Source: nebutch-blog

danishprinciple:

[Siren by] Stephen Carroll

I am about as anti-digital as you can get short of Nottinghamshire circa November 1811.

In the broadest strokes my grudge distills to rejecting the commonplace assumption that since the physical process and user interfaces involved in making a photograph and a digital image is similar, there exists an interchangeable equivalency between them.

Fucking bullshit.

Analog photography produces a physical artifact representing a moment in time. That resulting artifact—negative or positive—stands in relationship to both the moment of creation and all subsequent retellings.

Digital image making translates light into a phenomenally long string of ones and zeros.

As a result of these differences, each process responds differently to similar situations.

  • Digital can’t handle overexposure; negative stocks benefit from mild overexposure.
  • Digital has immense depth of field even large apertures; film shot using fast lens with the aperture fully open have a narrow depth of field (DOF).
  • Digital makes it easier to capture an image in low-light settings as result of its extended DOF; however, digital is incapable (and will always fall short) of rendering a true black.

Digital works best when its limitations are embraced instead of obfuscated. (Recall the scenes in Zodiac where they are driving around at night and nothing is really dark so much as murky vs. The Social Network where wide open prime lenses stopped down to the correct aperture using ND filters in an effort to create a more filmic DOF and instead resulted in emphasizing the deathly plastic pallor digital imposes on everything and looked less like film.)

As much as a detest digital, there are a small group of people who embracing the multifarious shortcomings of digital and do interesting things.

  • Noah Kalina has created a cottage industry using the sweet spot just inside to digital overexposure margine for fashion editorial work.
  • Pedro Costa’s Colossal Youth is one of the few instances wherein digital proved superior to film.

After seeing the image above and how it employs the same deathly plastic pallor I loathe so much in digital as a hyper-stylized means of conveying the ethereally phantasmal splendor of fading light on still water and wet skin.

Those who peruse what I write will be aware of how much I loathe fucking gratuitous/illogical use of portrait orientation.

I never tire of calling that bullshit out. But, for the sake of avoiding redundancy and not beating a dead horse on the subject, I am going to henceforth distill these criticisms to a pithy hash tag: #skinnyframebullshit.

#skinnyframebullshit should be applied here. Further, the awkwardness is compounded by the top frame line’s amputate the young woman’s legs. (And if one was inclined toward hair splitting: an argument can be made that with the angle of light it would’ve been preferable to swap the position of her head and feet.)

Even with these shortcomings, I dig this image a lot. Mainly because it dodges the usual questions of subject/object and exhibitionism/voyeurism back loaded into visual depictions of masturbation. It has the sort of masturbation as punk rock/do it yrself sex positive vibe I adore.

Source: veryhot

selections from Caroline Mackintosh’ Thigh Deep series

This is so how I want to celebrate my birthday this year.

Alas, with two or three exceptions my friends wouldn’t be down for drunken skinny dipping. (And I am way too chicken shit to suggest it as an option.)

Maybe next year. (Probably not though.)

Le sigh.

(Soundtrack suggestion: Oceanic)

Source: nevver