Spontaneous photos capturing myself and the mother fuckers I surround myself with. Disclaimer: nobody’s mother is getting fucked. Yet.
A while back, I started using dead flowers as a prop in some of my photography. At first the flowers really didn’t have much meaning, other than the fact that I liked the way they looked.
Over time, I began to realize the stories behind the flowers, their symbolic significance… and as time goes on, each photo I take with them seems to adopt a new meaning. The funnest part of photography is the act of shooting, meeting and hanging out with new people. I love the mystery of what will be created… Some people plan their themes and photo shoots out. I tend to lean the other way.
To me, this image portrays the many different forms we come in. It also deals with sex, sexual identity and censorship. It has always frustrated me that Facebook doesn’t allow nudity. This is where the flower comes into play. In this particular piece, it “censors” his penis, and in doing so, mimics the scenes of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, introducing undertones of shame and sexual repression. The story unfolds further with the gentleman in the middle, who, for the most part, looks like a woman. He often gets flagged on Facebook if he has his chest bared, so I edited out his nipples… further pushing this feeling of repression.
Honestly, I just love the way this one looks. Take from it what you will.
In this piece, the flower acts as a contrast to his blunt smoking. I think maybe it’s an ode to our need to deaden our senses? Once again, this was not planned… it just happened. I suppose if the flower were alive, it would be an ode to the awakening of our senses.
I really like this piece. The flower is key, as it offsets the “ugliness” of the man holding it. Most people would look at this image and be like, “Ugh, gross. No one wants to see that if they don’t have to.” But that’s another major part of my work: a willingness to use subjects and portray people in lights that aren’t always beautiful, conventionally speaking. But, I believe, it’s possible to find beauty in the ugliest places.