While it is true that I don't have a knack for subtlety or modesty in real life, I don't create images and stories for the purpose of titillation. My self-portrait series' and personal essays have been an exploration of the various female archetypes, my own feminine roles over the years, and my own whispery ghosts and preconceived notions of what womanhood ought to be. The sexy is merely incidental. Make no mistake, I'm a lady. Ladylike, with a nice healthy dose of fuck. And I don't apologize for it, but I'll offer explanation as a polite nod of courtesy and extended hand in hopes of finding some common ground.
A photograph is a secret about a secret, and a story is just a story. You won't find truth in either. You'll find your perception of someone else's truth, which may or may not be a fallacy, an illusion... nothing more than roleplay. An imaginary tea party with plastic cups and saucers and layers of tulle and "clink - how do you do?" That is precisely what I love most photographing people, writing about people, myself included. I can be conducting a nude self-portrait series, thinking of a bacon cheeseburger with chili cheese french fries; but, when you see the image, you're certain I'm thinking about having sex with Will Smith. (Okay, maybe I am. After he buys me a bacon cheeseburger with chili cheese french fries.) I can write in first person about a wounded girl named Sara LeeAnn, and share this and that about "my" life - but unless you've ever been seated across the table from me and shared a cup of coffee, you've only just witnessed the most insignificant, fragmented facet of the complexities of this woman, this life.
My point is, we all see what we want to see. If we're lucky... I hope... where intent meets interpretation, there will be understanding.
|From the 'F* Being A Housewife Series,' 2009|