Thursday, February 9, 2012
A new photo shoot! I was thrilled. I got to dress up (and down) in a rustic vintage setting.
I applied some smokey eyeshadow and makeup, and headed out to drive into a bad part of town, just two streets over from million-dollar neighborhoods. I pulled up to a small studio that sat next to a dilapidated house and knocked on the door.
A very friendly face opens up and lets me in. The photographer. He was slightly older with curly grey wild-artist hair and had a studio filled with amazing art work. I followed him into a room that was unusually cold for the ninety-plus degree weather and cooled by only two desktop fans.
Time to take it off!
"Let's begin," he said.
I'm shameless, I know. I dropped it all, clothes were piled on the floor at my feet and I took center stage as the light shone on me and the cameras flash began pulse. The theme was burlesque lonely girls and I lay naked on the old-fashioned couch and tried to seduce the camera.
“Too sexy,” the photog said. "Pull back on the sex appeal and look like a broken hooker."
I laughed, and began to move my body over the couch but giving the camera a blank stare.
Not much further into the shoot the temperature dropped a little further and things began to seem misplaced or moved.
“It's a ghost,” I half-whispered with a slight chuckle behind my voice.
The photographer laughed. “Yeah, right," he said, the sarcasm not even masked.
So he didn't believe in them.
And hour or more went by and the temp seemed to drop even further - and my naked body in the studio wasn't helping the situation. So I asked if I could begin to dress up.
“Ugh, OK - but just a little bit."
I grabbed a tea-stained tutu and put it on, standing with the once-again blank stare in the cold room as flash popped.
“Ha...ghosts” he chuckled after several minutes later.v“You don't really believe in that, do you?”
“Well,” I said, “Of course I do - when I can see them." With this picture: