20 June, 2012

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Letter to Another Photographer’s Muse

sketch of nude woman

Dearest Sonia,

By now, you should have received a print of one of my images in the mail. The print is a gift from Balthazar, though I must confess, I too wanted you to have it for personal reasons. You see, I have been catching glimpses of you for some time now: I have seen the contour of your breasts under the dim lights of your room; the shape of your hips delineated by your delicate underwear; the flesh of your lips, slightly parted as you face away from the camera. Despite having seen you like that, I have always yearned for more. There always seems to be a garment covering what it should not be covering; an object casting a shadow in the wrong place; a leg or an arm blocking my view. In light of this situation, I decided to come up with a plan.

You know how some cultures believe that a part of your soul is captured by the camera when someone takes a picture of you? I would like to think that is true. Because if that is indeed the case, then that means that a part of me is present in the photo I sent you. It means that through it, I can transport myself to your bedroom, your bathroom, your kitchen. If you also believe this to be true, then I trust that one day you will acquiesce to my desire: you will take my image with you and lock yourself in a private place; then, you will proceed to undress in front of it (slowly, taking your time); with your legs spread open, you will remain motionless in front of my image for a few minutes so that I may contemplate your coñito in its full splendor; when you are ready, you will touch yourself, slowly at first, and then more vigorously, climbing that ladder until you find release. When that happens, know that I will be smiling (and slightly out of breath) somewhere, perhaps not that far away.

Kisses,

Mateo.
†30 September, 2010

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Intermission It is a widely accepted fact that Polaroid cameras played a central role in bringing amateur photography into the bedroom. The introduction of the Polaroid camera allowed many would-be artists to immortalize the subjects of their desire without the need for intermediaries or expensive dark rooms. Instant prints made it possible to freeze private moments in time, making them available for future admiration, contemplation and self-gratification. In the pursuit of the erotic, the Polaroid camera became the quintessential instrument for prolonging pleasure. I was too young to understand this when I received my first Polaroid camera as a Christmas gift from my grandfather. It was only years later, when I got the chance to play with a digital camera for the first time, that I was able to comprehend the erotic potential of instant cameras. There were moments of pleasure and carnal beauty that were too precious to entrust to memory; it was imperative to preserve and curate them. So I began to point the lens of my camera at the naked flesh.  I photograph the ephemeral in an attempt to make it permanent. I document the body in an attempt to negate its decay. I confine moments to pixels so that the traced shadow of a lover on the wall becomes indelible. I am the custodian of intimacies and desires, passions and vanities. Through my photographs, I am able to conjure lovers at will. In them, the voyeur always triumphs over the Proustian. To me, these images represent both signifier and signified. They are the ultimate fetish.  words ♀

Intermission

It is a widely accepted fact that Polaroid cameras played a central role in bringing amateur photography into the bedroom. The introduction of the Polaroid camera allowed many would-be artists to immortalize the subjects of their desire without the need for intermediaries or expensive dark rooms. Instant prints made it possible to freeze private moments in time, making them available for future admiration, contemplation and self-gratification. In the pursuit of the erotic, the Polaroid camera became the quintessential instrument for prolonging pleasure.

I was too young to understand this when I received my first Polaroid camera as a Christmas gift from my grandfather. It was only years later, when I got the chance to play with a digital camera for the first time, that I was able to comprehend the erotic potential of instant cameras. There were moments of pleasure and carnal beauty that were too precious to entrust to memory; it was imperative to preserve and curate them. So I began to point the lens of my camera at the naked flesh. 

I photograph the ephemeral in an attempt to make it permanent. I document the body in an attempt to negate its decay. I confine moments to pixels so that the traced shadow of a lover on the wall becomes indelible. I am the custodian of intimacies and desires, passions and vanities. Through my photographs, I am able to conjure lovers at will. In them, the voyeur always triumphs over the Proustian. To me, these images represent both signifier and signified. They are the ultimate fetish.