Saturday, July 21, 2007

Nude with Coffee, Sunday morning, around 1988

That apartment was huge and ancient, above a glass store, nine rooms for 250 bucks a month. Cheap even for 1988 money. I shared it with a series of people, one a lunatic furniture salesman and fanatic bike rider who screwed as many girls as he could, then an artist pal who did dark and wild paintings and drank heavily.
He got a bad Jesus virus, decided I was damned to hell and moved out, and on the way told two mutual friends they could move in over the weekend while I was gone.
The apartment was next to a door factory where machines hummed 24/7 and sawdust collectors exploded and the fire department would scream up every few days to put them out.
Across the street from a biker bar where drunks would stumble out to scream and puke on the street, or roar around on big loud Harleys and choppers.
The real kind of biker, not the pampered dentists and clean smelling yuppies who came later.
The two new roomies turned out to be new age roommates from Hell. They preached love and bought weird crystals and drank strange overpriced elixirs made from seabed minerals. And they fought like demons late at night, screaming and throwing each other around.
I finally had to move out, ready to kill both of them as they slept just so I could sleep a whole night. I found out later they had some new age guru who had "found a dark spirit in the old apartment".
They did some strange ass ritual/ceremony with a six hundred pound amethyst crystal to exorcise it. I think they were exorcising me. Somewhere, in between roommate madness I shot this.
I had a spare room, with great morning light overlooking the busy street below. I shot this one rare quiet Sunday morning sometime in 1988 or so.
She was my first nude model that I photographed, and we were a couple for a very long time. And she still looks great 20 some years later.

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"Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis." Ralph Waldo Emerson