Tag: kiss

Paloma Wool – Paloma Lanna (2014)

I know fuck all about fashion. But I’ve been oddly attracted to this image since I stumbled upon it. I thought it was the idea of physical intimacy with art. And yeah, that’s a part of it but it turns out there’s more to it than that.

See the above image is from a catalog for clothier Paloma Wool. Paloma Wool is a passion project of Paloma Lanna–bringing together her personal style with her commitment to analog photography.

Her work (x, x) reminds me of ericashires and although you can’t honestly tell from this picture–the lines of that dress the way Lanna wears it are exactly the sort of thing that could cause me to full-on swoon.

Source: palomawool.com

Lynn Kasztanovics – Title Unknown (200X)

On the infrequent occasion I’ll publicly admit to ‘being a photographer’ and because I live in NYC where everyone seems to know something about art, the question arises: which photographers influence your work?

I never know how to respond. I mean Francesca Woodman and I are involved. But who doesn’t like her? She was that rare and singular wunderkind, we term a ‘prodigy’. I’m nearing the 10,000 hour point when it comes to studying Sally Mann’s work. I adore Jeff Wall for both his technical skill and the narrative angle in his work. I’ve yet to encounter a Stephen Shore frame wherein the composition fails to exemplify perfection. (Plus, he’s damn hilarious… if you don’t leave his work feeling like you’ve spent time with the subversive uncle at the family reunion who convinces the little one’s that the moon is made of green cheese and that you have to hold your breath when driving through tunnels because the air is poisonous and then leaves the kids’ parents to deal with the fallout…then you haven’t really engaged with the work properly.) Recently, I’ve been finding myself flat out hypnotized by Mark Steinmetz’s heavenly eye and the way it locates transcendent beauty in mundane exigencies.

Despite incredible talent, your average Jane on the street isn’t going to know Allison Barnes or Prue Stent or Igor Mukhin. (I’ve mentioned Traci Matlock and Ashley MacLean and increasingly folks have some idea of who they are/were.)

The truth is–and probably also the reason my work will never be deemed ‘important’–in my heart of hearts, Lynn Kasztanovics is the most important photographer in the history of photography.

As with most things I feel so completely through and through, I have a hard time knowing how to explain this preposterous insistence except to say her work is the appositive of the seven syllable Fuegian sentence word Martin Buber mentions in his astounding I and Thou:

They look at each other, each waiting for the other to offer to do that which both desire but neither wishes to do.

Sans all the abstraction: her work is like seeing something beautiful and in the moment of realizing you want to touch it, it reaches out to you and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear then smiles before looking away shyly.

Source unknown – Title Unknown (201X)

I have objections to this–namely, the camera’s proximity to the action implicates it as a participant/not strictly an observer. The image would’ve been improved dramatically by moving backward say two feet. (Further, you know, DoF could’ve been a little more thoughtfully implemented and a series of unfortunate Photoshop decisions might’ve been avoided.)

Still, the image is super hot and not just because of the graphic penetration. (Also, it bears mention that I am super supportive of this as a depiction of safe sex that doesn’t come off as perfunctory, forced or trite.) I think it appeals to me because there’s enough context to suggest that this is a public environment. But something I’m realizing more and more about myself is depictions of sex that are salaciously focused on reproductive organs just do not do it for me. I want to see an effort to communicate physically the unsayable intensity of passion. Her the kiss is what sells the image and it in no small part reminds me of another equally arousing (though non-pornographic) photograph by Lina Scheynius.

Merel Wessing – Title Unknown (200X)

I’m not 100% as far as the attribution on this.

Google Image search best guesses as Belgian model Merel Wessing.

With the galaxies of freckles on her forehead and around her eyes, this is almost certainly the same young woman.

It seems she’s a photographer too. Or was, at least–there’s a Flickr account bearing her name and the The Way Back Machine shows updates between 2007 and 2011.

Unfortunately, none of those images are cached. Anywhere as far as I can tell.

Excepting the above, another photo from this same ‘shoot’ and this, her work has been scrubbed from the Internet.

Although there’s no way to qualitatively assess her abilities based on three photographs, the images–especially this one–justifying a strong curiosity with regard to the rest of her work.

I have an itching suspicion she was/is very good, if not flat out phenomenal.

Source: lovelyporn

Source: Unknown

As best as I can tell, this image was originally from one of three different photo shoots featuring this couple.

It was probably commissioned by one of those dime-a-dozen paid membership amateur porn sites who tout the ability to download unedited photo sets as a selling point.

A certain Motherless user–who I am not going to even bother identifying–shunted the images over to his account on Halloween 2012.

From there, a Serbian tech geek added all three sets to his lo-fi website.

I spent about an hour and a half browsing through them the other day–that time may or may not have featured two self-love sessions–and although they aren’t what I would call ‘good’–heteronormative sex doesn’t really do much for me–there are some things I appreciate:

  • The boy at least seems somewhat mindful that the staging of the scene is runs counter to his partner’s needs–even if he doesn’t really go to any great lengths to compensate for it;
  • The money shot in every set avoids the ubiquitous porn facial that I so hate; she brings him to orgasm via fellatio, letting just a little bit of his semen dribble between her lips to visually signal ejaculation;
  • There are some awkward and poorly planned shots but they come off as strangely sincere and maybe even awkwardly endearing.

Maybe a handful of the images make for pretty decent photography–this is probably the best of the bunch and marginally not #skinnyframebullshit to boot.

The image I’ve posted is not the best-the tile seam between their heads is distracting and emphasizes the frames questionable compositional logic.

What I like are the nuances in their interaction. Her along with her face is flushed; the fringe of her hair, damp. Due to her position, her center of gravity–three inches below her navel–in under his body; her shoulder is turned in to his body.

The way her right hand is holding him is not conducive to anything greater than a teasing level of stimulation. This combined with the way she is cradling his testicles conveys a profound sense of bodily acceptance but also simultaneously proclaims you are mine and I will do what I want to you; you can’t stop me and you are completely safe in this space.

The way he is reaching towards her, kissing her with unfeigned, intoxicated passion is lovely.

The nakedness of the wanting and being wanted is always something I find incomparable erotic. 

Source: 91.210.216.1

danishprinciple:

Anna Mathilda Eberhard

Part of Eve’s Discussion by Marie Howe

It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand,
and flies, just before it flies, the moment the rivers seem to still
and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when
a hundred starlings lift and bank together before they wheel and drop,
very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you
your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like
the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say,
it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only
all the time.

amorsexus:

interchange

Work by Oscar Delmar (Watercolor and graphite)

Onomatopoeic words tend to grate on my ears even if I am intrigued by the concept of a word’s sound being its meaning.

Similarly synesthesia fascinated me; although, again, I am less interested in someones seeing the number one as blue than in the fact such an associative experience happens.

These and other word-concepts like them make me wish there were a term indicating a unity between medium and message. It would prove a helpful too for talking about images like this where the medium and the process involved in creating the final image bestows great authenticity to the truth of the message–  watercolor, the wet and mess of lips, tongues and teeth & the surreal impression of immediacy, color and texture upon execution that is rendered when the colors dry, respectively.

Source: oscar-delmar

I love their closed eyes, the bright flush to their faces, the bodies tense with forestalled impatience— I want you to enjoy it, enjoy me enjoying you enjoying it—a full-blown sensory flashback: I remember my knees shaking and teeth transformed to mercury quivering in my gums and the weight of knowing— God himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay; knowing is not enough against wanting, wanting to see this through tired-tired eyes spread holy-holy awed and wide as the wet of lips meeting and our fumbling lead boned find those secret fleshy spaces with their tiny, tiny alters to bear and burn lonely so many offerings.

The pale one, her fingers slid up almost to the wrist into the others blue-grey briefs, deeper; while she is herself caressed through white knickers— I remember the slick groove of a dew pussy leeching through cotton and then glistening silken on gliding fingertips.

Source: femaleboner