I model as a hobby. I model to express myself. To get out of the skin I've so painstakingly designed and poked until it's somewhere close to fit me. To put my outsides on display. To show you my insides. To share the unrelenting, dangerously obsessive love I have for art. Especially the kind in flesh. Also, it looks cool on myspace.
I travel intermittently, often for piercing conventions, mostly limited to the midwest, and while I'm out, I usually model for someone, even if it's for 10 minutes when we meet for a drink while I'm in their town. I get to work with new photographers, old photographers, people who are better than me, people who are willing to push down the gag reflex to hold the camera, people who turn me into the kind of frozen storyline I want to be, and, on a good day at least, artists of the highest caliber.
I think I have very little to contribute, besides acerbic wit, and the kind of experiences you only get when someone is bleeding and/or naked in a public place.
I also fail at introductions, so I leave you with one of the first times my two artforms violently collided. Suspension by Leo Zeibol and Wayde Dunn. Body Paint by Lara Bullets and Emily Svec. Photo skillz by Mel, of Live Boulevard
I have no idea why this picture won't be small.
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