the vintage body
We are immediately judged by the flesh suit we wear, it's color, age, perceived beauty and what I call the fuckability factor. It changes as we change-pregnant-weight changes, age. It is the first assessment we automatically make when most people encounter someone they do not know.
I live in Santa Monica, CA and it is here that I came to terms with aging. People looked through me. I felt like a ghost, so I became a ghost with my camera and the ability to do street photography.
What was first jarring, became a way for me to become an observer of humanity. To help me cross from middle age into being a senior, I started doing nude selfies, not to be sexually explicit but to explore my body and the changes I see. I want to find beauty in the journey written across my body instead of the despair I was feeling and the fragility of my flesh.
I never expected to live this long. A year after being diagnosed HIV positive I was diagnosed with an acute, often fatal, auto immune disease that almost killed me several times. But here I am 64, alive, alone and preparing to die for decades.
I am not afraid of death. I welcome it. Not in a suicidal way but in a journey ended way.
These photos are my attempt to see myself in many ways. I cannot post them on any social media as they would be banned right away. I want to celebrate my body and show some of the angst and despair of aging.
I live in Santa Monica, CA and it is here that I came to terms with aging. People looked through me. I felt like a ghost, so I became a ghost with my camera and the ability to do street photography.
What was first jarring, became a way for me to become an observer of humanity. To help me cross from middle age into being a senior, I started doing nude selfies, not to be sexually explicit but to explore my body and the changes I see. I want to find beauty in the journey written across my body instead of the despair I was feeling and the fragility of my flesh.
I never expected to live this long. A year after being diagnosed HIV positive I was diagnosed with an acute, often fatal, auto immune disease that almost killed me several times. But here I am 64, alive, alone and preparing to die for decades.
I am not afraid of death. I welcome it. Not in a suicidal way but in a journey ended way.
These photos are my attempt to see myself in many ways. I cannot post them on any social media as they would be banned right away. I want to celebrate my body and show some of the angst and despair of aging.
The Face
I realize my face had become more of itself. The weight of life both the good and bad has changed it. People have called it "Resting Bitch Face". I call it "Deep In Contemplation Face". I realize people don't approach me because they think I am deep in thought. It is up to me if I want to connect. I decided I needed to initiate engagement. I believe human bonds, however fleeting are little bits of happiness and are essential for my mental health. In my head I call it "Being A Beam of Light". Just send good energy out. Even if people turn away, it is a win for me. There is freedom in being yourself, singing dancing, smiling, giving good vibes for free and not taking anything to seriously. This is my selfies with stranger’s gallery and one of “Deep In Contemplation Face”