These days I
keep repeating what a friend tells me over and over, “Alex, you and I won the
cosmic lottery in having been born and worked in the past century."
It what to
me is the age of pornography in this 21st century I had a curious
and most pleasant situation in July/August 1993. In those days we (writers,
photographers, journalists, designers, ecdysiasts, etc) would meet for lunch at
noon on Thursdays at the Railway Club. There was this lovely peroxide blonde
who would sit alone on an ancillary table. We all wondered who she was. One day
I rustled up enough nerve and I went up to her and said, “My name is Alex, I am
a photographer and I would like to photograph you nude.” Her answer was succinct,
“Sure, when do you want to do it? What is your phone number?”
When she
arrived at my Robson corner with Granville studio (the Farmer Building) she took
all her clothes off and I was shocked to note that she had had a breast
removed.
Somehow in
all my photographs I never showed any breast or the little bits that get you
into trouble in this century.
One of the
photographs became one of my favourite ever photographs. She was on a white bed
sheet on m psychiatric couch. I just photographed her lovely legs and just a
bit more.
When I was a
little boy my mother would say to me, “Alex, es hora del baile de las sábanas blancas.”
That translates to, “Alex it is time for the dance of the white sheets.” And to
bed I went.
The other
photos here to me represent one of best moments of genuine inspiration.
