• Photos,  Sinful Sunday


    She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands, appreciating its subtle nuances. She was a prism through which sadness could be divided into its infinite spectrum. Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

  • autobiographical,  body image,  Photos,  Sinful Sunday

    Meet Yourself Where You Are

    I’ve received some very cruel feedback about my body in the last two weeks, all anonymous, all online. At first I was mystified that such cold words didn’t affect me more; there certainly was a time when I would have been utterly devastated. What these comments afforded me was the opportunity to look at my body objectively, and what I found currently was a body which, like all other bodies, regardless of size, is constantly in flux. Our bodies are not static. They are ever changing, and forever giving us new and important information. My body does an awful lot for me. Sure, it doesn’t rock climb or run very…

  • Photos,  Sinful Sunday

    #SinfulSunday – Grit, Gaiman and “a good cheese”

    The May prompt for Sinful Sunday, as decreed by our reigning Queen of Sin, Molly of Molly’s Daily Kiss, is “an out-take”, an image that might have otherwise been passed over. I recently spent almost a whole day, naked in my bedroom/office with the curtains partially drawn, playing with light and shadow, finding the extremes and the in betweens, defying convention and nailing a few interesting images. As always, it’s hundreds of shutter clicks and only a handful of images worth keeping as self portraiture is about as myopic an art form as one can imagine. Still, I loved the cold grit of this one, the heavy static in the…

  • masturbation,  Masturbation Monday,  Photos,  Sinful Sunday


    “She imagined herself both queen and slave, dominatrix and victim. In her imagination she was making love with men of all skin colors–white, black, yellow–with homosexuals and beggars. She was anyone’s, and anyone could do anything to her. She had one, two, three orgasms, one after another. She imagined everything she had never imagined before, and she gave herself to all that was most base and most pure.” — Paulo Coelho (Veronika Decides to Die)                      

  • Photos,  Sinful Sunday

    G is for Grape

    My love, suddenly your hip is the curve of the wineglass filled to the brim, your breast is the cluster, your hair the light of alcohol, your nipples, the grapes your navel pure seal stamped on your barrel of a belly, and your love the cascade of unquenchable wine, the brightness that falls on my senses, the earthen splendor of life. Pablo Neruda     Click the kiss below to see more sinners and their sins