The older you get the more boring you become. Is that true? Well I’m definitely one of the front runners in the race to dig the deepest rut in Rugby. This year I’ve done naught exciting. It’s true that for most of my life I’ve avoided excitement but this year has been exceptionally dull. I could jolt myself into action for the back end of the year but I’ve got no money now, I’ve given it away to a good cause, well that’s what she told me she was. C’est la vie.
Not since the long gone days of the camera clubs have I discussed the ups and downs of my adventures with other photographers but recently I’ve felt the need to discover if it’s just me having problems finding suitable talent. If you follow the modelling web site forums everything seems to be hunky-dory so is it only me who’s cursed? Nowadays many girls want to pick and choose how they are portrayed, which is okay to a point, but some of the photos on their portfolios are a long way from being art and surely it’s the tacky glamour scene where the money is, what little there is left in internet modelling that is. So if you are a fellow “artist” I really would like to know how you are fairing in your quest for models.
I’m getting more than a little fed up of models who try to conceal the fact that they have tattoos. My castings clearly state I’m seeking models without large tattoos but I end up having to go through the applicants’ profiles with a fine-tooth comb because they don’t bother to tick the I have tattoos box and their portfolio photos are shot or edited in such a way to hide the evidence. Let the buyer beware is my new motto.
Oh happy days. Pleasant weather and a tall, touching 6 foot, attractive leggy blonde in the rec. When we arrived there was a football game in progress but it only took her a few minutes to stop it dead by continually bending over to adjust her shoes. She was a minx alright. She even offered to prove to the more vocal of the players that she was indeed a real blonde but the dare proved too much for them and they chickened out on the proposal. On leaving the rec she, with a smile and a wave, enticed the attention of a passing dustcart which then proceeded to follow us on the short walk back to my place with her walking provocatively and lapping up the jeers and whistles. The agent who had supplied her warned me that she could be a handful. He wasn’t joking.