Body of evidence

I wanted photos that told a story about me; about my life as a woman, and about being “older”. Jason and I tossed some theme ideas around based on all of that and I started to think of my body as a canvas. This notion served to set my mind more at ease.

With that in mind I consulted Jason’s web page which is devoted to “Tips for Models”. It sets out quite bluntly the dos and don’ts for the aspiring nude subjects.

He recommends not wearing underwear to the shoot, to avoid marks. This was all very well and good but when it comes to older skin - everything leaves a mark. I donned a T-shirt and loosely wrapped a sarong about my waist and hoped for the best, but by the time I got to his place there were still marks around my belly, caused by the pressure of my seatbelt.

Jason’s “day job” is working in one of those aforementioned retail outlets on the weekends, but he packs his free time with as many diverse shooting opportunities as he can muster, building his oeuvre and reputation. He has more than 1000 Facebook friends, many of whom are of an exhibitionistic bent. All he has to do is put a call out for subjects willing to pose for his latest idea and he’s knocked over in the rush.

He hesitates to call himself an artist - because he feels it restricts his scope. “I got into photography because I get to do what I want and I’m not patient enough to paint,” he says, “I do what I do because I think it might look good and I want to find out. I shoot naked people because I just don't think boring clothes are interesting enough to warrant spending my free time on.”

Rose Cooper

He started out shooting musicians and concerts, which lead to him exploring some of the more alternative lifestyles connected with that. “And I did perhaps consider that occasionally (the majority of my shoots) would involve naked people.”

I found his candour refreshing. When I told him I was writing a story about this experience his response was, “Make sure you misquote the shit out of me, and make me out to be a complete psychopath”. We were clearly destined to be friends.

The day of reckoning arrived. I rocked up to Jason’s home in Sydney’s west and he came out to greet me. I hadn’t known his age then, but from his articulate emails and his demeanour I figured he was in his late 20s. A stocky fellow with long, flaming-red hair, pulled back into a ponytail and the area under his lower lip pierced - his smile oozed warmth. Inside the house I was greeted by his lovely friend Tracy, who is also his make-up artist.

We sat in the lounge while he took time to explain his method - first he’d take some headshots to ascertain my comfort level. Tracy applied some subtle make up and we slipped out to his carport-cum-studio to get to work. He flitted about, continually moving the lights and started snapping away, chatting amiably the whole time.

After about 20 minutes we went back inside to check the images on his laptop. I liked them immediately - and I usually hate my headshots. As far as I’m concerned, my face is my most aged feature, but he managed to find something beyond that. He remarked that I was “very self aware” and that he was confident this would go well. So now it was time to get down to business.

We had our “theme” in mind (which would involve paint) but he wanted to take a few glamour shots first. At his suggestion I brought props. A pair of black gloves, a hat and bowtie (for want of something less cliché to wear) and he set up a black backdrop with a box for me to sit on. Then, in one delightfully carefree motion, I untied my sarong and literally threw it aside.