There must be something wrong with me. This shoot was unusual for both the photographer and me, being relatively on ‘spur of the moment’ and something that I had never done before. It was the product of a discussion at a party the previous evening where the Naked Britain project was being talked about, and the motives of the models were being commented on very disparagingly by someone.
Being a hobby photographer (and liberal in my mindset) I was engaged in the conversation and thought ‘why not?’ and volunteered as a model. The more I thought about it the more enthusiastic I became; the opportunity to be photographed by a professional photographer, the art, the concept, a point of record at the midpoint of my life all came together. Additionally, the location of the party at a country house was extremely photogenic and the junk room I found was beautifully disordered and dusty with wonderful light from two sides with a lantern skylight overhead.
The pose was also a spur of the moment decision, having taken a number of shots in more conventional poses. Was it because being naked in public made me regress back into a foetal position? Do I yearn for the comfort of the womb? Is it oedipal? Or was it actually quite cold, hard and scratchy and an opportunity to show off my tattoos?