Monday, June 25, 2012

Dennis Beach

There are a few photos from my early modeling career [my first month of doing it] that, to this day, remain the photos people mention to me the most.

Some of them have quaint [albeit pointless] anecdotes behind them, so I've decided to divulge the stories with the photos as I come across them, what the hell.

I shot with Jefferson on St. Patty's Day in 2010, meeting him in Santa Cruz.

I tried on a bunch of the [mostly flamboyant] outfits in his studio, and settled for the one I'm wearing in the photos above. They were actually taken at a horse ranch [which quite excited me], and while tinkering in an abandoned-looking shed I found a small red box hiding in one of the rafters, full of little notes and rubber-stamped pages, more-or-less a small geocache, called a "Tompte" or something similar. I made an addition to the notes, referencing St. Patty and my current nakedness and thorn-scratched legs, and put the box away again.

Then we drove a short ways along the coast, pulling over at a seemingly nondescript location and wandering past long-defunct trains lined up like rusty ducklings on old tracks to the edge of a cliff. One short barefoot scramble later, and we were in an unregistered beach--seemingly devoid of human interference except for one set of footprints in the sand, and the name "DENNIS" spelled out in huge letters in stones, driftwood, and fresh flowers. There were was a rock archway and an incredible moss-covered outcropping that I posed around.

Later I returned to this beach with my then-boyfriend, and was clambering over the trains when I noticed that the puddles of water in the mud were wriggling. Upon closer inspection I saw that the puddles were TEEMING with huge tadpoles, trapped and dying as the puddles shrunk under the hot sun. So I went on a tadpole-rescuing mission, scooping up big, muddy, wriggling handfuls and seeking bigger wet areas to dump them into, and felt thus fulfilled for the day.

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