Category Archives: Personal

Personal

Denial of Emotional Connection

It feels like I am back on track. This is my element: of talking about sex and my emotional experience from the past. I realize I am not a very good person who projects into the future, but more of someone who searches for meaning in the past. It’s not that I live in the past it’s just that I so appreciate all the experiences and feelings it has allowed me to explore and live. I know so many people who deny or reject emotions when they are bad and really try to disconnect from associating with them. To me, that becomes the breath that confirms we are human and gives us the depth of our passion to be human. I have always been a person to embrace all emotions, be fascinated by and explore my feelings, and boy has my life been filled with them. I allow myself to cry when I am overwhelmed by something and I am not afraid to admit it. I used to love to movies because they were so filled with emotions. Well maybe not the car chase ones, but the ones about human drama. It takes us to a place we may not otherwise get to experience. But my passion for movies has somehow died over the years; perhaps the passion in the movies has changed, or perhaps it’s me that’s changed. But I don’t see or feel much of deep connections within the modern films. It’s like most everyone who makes them now only lives life on the surface. Do we live in an era where we are now all medicated so we all don’t have to live with our emotions? I also think that I have found what is profound about my own life and what and how I choose to live it. I am not one of those people who just creates drama in my life to be surrounded by it, far from it. But my life has been filled with so many events and people that have touched me so deeply that I can’t help but to examine my connection to them.

I have not and do not go back and read any of the previous postings on this site. I only move forward. Yesterday I wanted to connect back to some stories I had begun previously that embellished what I was currently writing about so I began to search the blog for those connections. It took me a long time to actually find them, but along the way, as I skimmed those past postings for the first time since I began, I saw how much emotion is contained in most everything I’ve been writing. I was actually kind of startled how stark and raw some of that has been and, as I looked back, I found myself asking, did I actually create this? You have to understand that I am not a writer. In fact it’s been the weakest element of my life. How does someone who can even seem to spell write such deep thoughts and connect to so many different people? I learned early as a creative soul that it does not matter your ability or talent as long as you show up for it every day. I see now this blog has forced me to show up everyday. I somehow thought the images would just speak for themselves and that I would have nothing to say. I meant to only write a paragraph per day, but somehow I can’t express what I feel in only one paragraph and I am envious of people who write poetry that cuts to the core of what they say with minimal words. It’s like life; we have to show up for it every single day! Why do so many people live in denial of it? Perhaps that’s why inane television programming has become so popular and we are spoon-fed well defined glimpse of our insecurities.

The Long Dark Seduction Of My Desire

I recently found an old journal about the first time I actually went home with a man and spent the night. The date was March 1 1982. I would have been 20 years old and we ended up picking each other up at an old video arcade that is still in existence here in Missoula today. There are not many details in the notes, but in my head I flashed back to a very vivid cold night, when my body trembled with fear. The sheer panic and confusion I was feeling floods my mind again as if I am standing in that darkness, alone again. I was a couple of years out of high school and knew that I have always had a strong desire to be with a man, but for some reason I just couldn’t quite come to terms with possibly doing it. The video arcade was a way to have encounters with others without really having to make a commitment, always somehow felt it wasn’t quite real. It was a dark world filled with black light with neon signs that glowed vibrantly in the darkness. Anyone with a white shirt took on a haunting purplish glow. You really couldn’t see the faces of people, because skin tones disappeared into in a dark haunting haze. The place was a maze of walls with hidden openings, covered by curtains and the whir and clatter of films being projected into glass screens within the little booths. You could hear a coin drop from anywhere in the places and then the muted/muffled voices of people talking. Back in those days, people actually did talk to each other in those types of films, as inane as it may have seemed then, adds a certain humanity that is lacking today. But it all happened in darkness. A touch, a kiss, someone feeling my crotch, a quick encounter and then they would disappearance back into the darkness. Once I had discovered the place, I didn’t go there very often. Perhaps 3 or 4 times over the course of a 3-year period. I remember living in the dorms on campus and after one of my visits rushing home to immediately jump into the shower and try to scour away any traces of the encounter from my skin, often my body eventually becoming consumed by sobs of grief that I had allowed myself to go back to that place of such desperate temptation. Then eventually after another 5 to 6 months I would find myself lurking outsides it’s doors in the darkness of the street waiting and watching working up my courage enough to enter its seductive labyrinth once more.

I figured something was wrong with me for wanting this desire and I began to see a counselor, not sure if I was trying to talk myself into or out of this sort of encounters. I vividly had that in my notes as well because I had to somehow come to terms with what was actually happening to me. I remember a lot of fear and dread. I remember becoming overcome with desire to explore this within myself but completely needing to reject the possibility. It all didn’t quite feel right, but sometimes our bodies and minds work in opposition with each other with the flesh often winning over and allowing the mind to either succumb and retreat. It never seemed to get easier. Was I to become a lost soul?

So eventually this night of the beginning of March in 1982, I made that leap that would somehow change the course of the life and give a new meaning to me existence. Once I connected with another man in an actual encounter, my fears were waylaid and the doubt overridden. Once bitten, I know what I wanted and continued to seek this partner. Was it love, or lust, or just an open denial of what I had been? A few days later I enter a note into the journal, “I am really starting to enjoy being with Mark and gay sex is very interesting.”

Double Edged Sword

Today I begin to move into the last phase of this project. Hard to believe I am two thirds of the way through it. Wow what an adventure it is becoming and it’s amazing where it’s been in such a short time. My focus today and probably this upcoming week is on creating a website; but I am having great difficulties trying to figure out where and how it needs to go. I have been looking for templates but am not finding anything I really like that I fit into and I have been working with Adobe’s Dreamweaver to see how I am able to modify or create my own, but that is proving to be difficult as well. I have decided to call in an expert who can help me figure it out. So this afternoon’s about meetings to get started and see what I can come up with.

Actually my brain is completely fried and I am having a hard time focusing at the moment.

My head is spinning with so many ideas and possibilities but the truth of the matter is do I have access to what I need living and being here in Montana to make it happen? It seems simple enough right! But Montana is still a place where people are reluctant to expose themselves, especially for art, and though I have been fortunate to photograph them in the past, it is always a major scramble to meet and photograph someone new. I have already created a body of work but it remains stagnant if I am not able to continue the exploration and grow in the process. I cannot spend the time I need seeking new explorations if I am so wrapped up in trying to figure out the business and marketing end of this process. I feel like I am being cut by a double edge sword of where to best use my resources. Now that I am beginning to meet people who can and are willing to help me move to a new level I am faced with the question: Can I do what is necessary to make it happen and still maintain the work? Or do I continue the work and slowly allow things to evolve along the process and possibly lose some of those connections that are willing to help now? I can see where I could very easily become lost somewhere along the way. I know it’s not going to all happen at once and I really don’t expect it to. It seems the creation of art itself is the easy part, but making something of it becomes the complicated part. I keep reminding myself to take a deep breath and take it one step at a time. Perhaps I am allowing people to influence me far too much. It seems since I have been home, this is all becoming so complex, it’s almost like I can taste the dream, but can I really get there and remain true to what I started? I am beginning to wonder if moving to the next level is where I really want to be. Today it’s just overwhelming.

Memory Of The Senses

I am still a bit completely out of whack and trying to get myself back on track. Taking a couple of weeks away from the studio and other work seems to have just put me a bit behind in some areas and this week is mostly about getting caught back up. It still amazes me how much I manage to accomplish within the course of the day. I spend about three hours gardening in the mornings, then photography all afternoon, sometimes squeezing a little nap in before heading off to spend my five hours at UPS in the evenings. Everything seems to be part time in my life and I have been a good one for juggling all this. The gardens seem to be one of the places of my greatest joy. After seeing such extraordinary gardens in Paris, I am totally inspired with some new ideas. I really see, what an extraordinary design I have put forth in some on my own spaces. A garden is like a living sculpture that is constantly evolving and changing. Something new blooms every day. Fortunately here in Montana we actually have winters and so you really see the evolution of the entire garden process with each distinctive season. Yet it allows my winters the freedom to focus back on creative photographic projects. The gardens become my time and space to reflect on myself, dream and plan. It’s my daily breath of fresh air and becomes a renewal of my spirit.

I do not mean to come across with mostly negative intent in doing this Naked Man Project. I particularly feel quite healthy and balanced and after this past trip. I am definitely coming to a greater understanding of who I am currently and where I have been and yes there are issues that I am still dealing with. When I reflect on the past, it is that a reflection, and a sort of remembrance, as was yesterday’s post. I believe the past is the key to what makes us what we have become today and that everything we learned springs from our wealth of experience. But I think there are great lessons and insight to be gained by understanding the history of who we are. Part of my mission with this Naked Man Project was to give a true reflection of my time and history as I have lived it. To be a young man, growing up on a cattle ranch in the mountains of Montana, who turns out to be gay and creative is remarkable feat in and of it self. And yes there have been major pitfalls and obstacles to over come to get to this place where I exist currently. This is my experience! I have given myself one year to explore this identity and somehow come to some understanding of where I currently stand, but part of the fact remains that it is still a chronicle of a man becoming a product of his time, living in an era of the greatest changes of the gay movement which has been extraordinary the past 30 years in it’s evolution. And yes I see what an extraordinary part of it I have become and continue to be. It is my objective in my imagery to redefine the way we look at our selves in the sexual/sensual self. To see the body and it’s soul in a positive light. We tend to live in a world of exploitation, where the self-image is completely compromised, and so much of our culture has such an unhealthy outlook on who we are. I know this because these are the issues I have spent my own life dealing with, first hand. But we cannot ignore, nor should we forget, the history from which this all springs. I now see how the Naked Man really is the exposure of myself and the discovery of identity, and the way I have viewed this change. I will and want to delve into that past to take you there first hand.

In a sense the project become three fold. While it exposed the past, it still is a growing and learning of my own self and gaining perspective and ultimately the birth and creation of my self-expression. When I first took up photography, I was enamored by the works of Robert Mapplethorpe. In many ways I saw him as a pioneer who was able to unabashedly expose his private world for others to see. He very shockingly showed a mirror unto ourselves and to the world, what we as a culture were too afraid to examine. That time was ripe and he became the product of his time. I remember how squeamish yet enthralling it was to examine his work for the first time when I discovered his books, many years after his death. This was what brought me to taking of a camera and focusing it on my own existence. Please bear with me in the upcoming months as I explore that past and come to terms with my own history. In a sense this is like tending my gardens where the sense memory is re-ignited with a certain touch, a smell, or the color of a flower that connects me to places in my memory. These thoughts reoccur each year, at the same time, in the same place, in the same manner, and are vividly relived each time. I have been doing it for so long, it’s as if the plants and trees that surround me now contain the memory of my life.

The Shadow Of Others

I am beginning to see and recognize that I have always lived in the shadow of others. It feels most of my life has been connected to something or someone else. This past weekend I have been cleaning all of my old stuff out of the attic of the old place. Boxes and boxes of things I have collected over the years. Things I had forgotten, or better yet thing I had perhaps wanted to remain forgotten. I have been a person who has kept a petty extensive journal of my life, and so there are boxes and boxes of handwritten pages from all the days of my existence, probably the silly scrawling of a boy living in a world of misunderstood angst. The first box I began to explore seemed to contain all the images of my youth I had forgotten. I opened a pouch to discover my high school graduation pictures from Superior. The person in them was not at first recognizable, but it was unmistakably me. I stared at these images, transfixed for a long time, trying to connect to this mistakable past. In the images I was happy, content, my eyes filled with innocence and hope. Oddly enough this is not the way I remember myself. For some reason I could never see the handsomeness of a lad fill with creative zest. I have always felt it a burden to be different, odd, queer. You see I had a bother that was a year and a day younger than me. But I had somehow failed the first grade and was doomed to repeat it thus putting me at the same level as my younger brother. Mark was perfection in every way, blond hair, blue eyes, athletically inclined, the joy of my father’s life, he could do nothing wrong. He was vibrant and outgoing, everything I was not. Looking back, I become creative so as to not compete and allow myself to become original. I loved to read and often escaped through stories, I now see my creative nature was maybe also a means to escape. I was gangly, uncoordinated and often humiliated and intimidated by the other kids. You see, being one level back mentally and emotionally, I was still one level ahead in the physical development of my body and growth. And now looking back, I realized that I had lived all those years in the shadow of my brother, not thinking I was good enough to succeed only to become to oddball of our family.

I was my mother’s son, her first child, and in many ways coddled by her overprotective nature. My mother being a mousy slim hipped thing that looked like Ingrid Bergman dwelt in her own life of fear, being abandoned as a child, becoming co-dependant on every moment of her own existence. She hung on tight to those of us around her, me especially tight, that much of my youth I felt suffocated from her immense grip. I know until the day she died I was one of the most precious things to come into her existence. We learn from our parents and inherit their tendencies and I too became co-dependent on others unable to survive on my own.

Looking into this image of some thirty-two years ago, I see no trances of the reverie of my awkwardness in this image. All I see now is a beautiful boy with soft brown curly hair, a contented smile in my mouth moving up into the warmth my deep dark eyes. I really began to question, was this really me? I don’t remember being so handsome, so confident, so self-assured. Was I? How is it that the physical self can be so different from the emotional self? For some reason I always looked to my brother, and could only recognize those beautiful traits in him and could somehow never get beyond it to gaze upon myself.

Through the process of this project, my life has begun to open as I face all the things that haunt my past. Perhaps it is now time to open all those old journals and see what they will reveal. Perhaps my life is not at all the way I perceived it. I have a friend who is now asking me to look into the mirror and see all those positive things about myself that I can’t seem to or perhaps have never seen within myself before. I now think, he is right, this is the time. I realize now that most of my life has been dwelling in the shadows of others. In theater I dwelled in the darkness, behind the scenes. I have been in domineering co-dependent relationships, and now I linger in the shadows of other photographers I fantasize about emulating or becoming. I expect to succeed in a world filled with so many people wanting to do what I do, now even with their cell phones, it’s becoming hard to compete. I am beginning to see that perhaps the only thing original that I really have to offer, that is different, is myself, at this moment. This has defiantly been the year to step out of the shadows and reveal myself.

I think one of the things I fear the most is facing myself, and actually looking at what lies in front of mirror.