heart

another full moon shoot last month for a series called “woman” by LA based photographer chloe aftel. we went onto the property of a vintage arms dealer where at first the framed nazi photo on his desk was horrifying but beliefs aside we all left a little bit more enlightened by the experience. it was golden hour and we were chasing the sun live bait for all the bugs vagina deep in a swamp with quarter sized spiders inches from my face. but im not going to kill the spiders though survival mode kicks in and i reason “its either you or me, little guy.” but we coexist in mother nature and the shoot continues. why is it called a photoshoot? as a model i hear the words “lets shoot.” yes, “lets shoot” until theres a loaded rifle in my hands pointing at the photographer. every click of the lens michael browns words “dont shoot” fires in my head. our arms aren’t civil war world war collectibles boldly flying the star spangled banner. our arms are black white brown yellow naked our arms are in the air in schools in the streets “dont shoot.” the profile of a young white man, the profile of a policeman, the profile of a young black man, the profile of a terrorist, the profile of a man. this series is called woman, and here i am holding a gun. what an invention this gun. the power in the palm of your hand the power of a finger the fear behind the bullet. we have all been wronged as a society, as humanity, pitted man versus man. but the mother is in all of us. the future is female. and with every death there is a rebirth. we have our hands on the trigger not in fear but in choice, in love, in taking the power back in our hands. our arms arent up, they are out and they are protecting our freedom. her arms are out extended in front of baton rouge police balanced in her personal power photo shot by jonathan bachman no shots fired. i am naked i am vulnerable i am woman i am holding a gun and these are my arms. i am a warrior sitting in a peaceful garden. i hope chloe got her shot she wanted. i look at the film and i see a bleeding heart. this bleeding heart is saying “dont shoot” so please dont ask me anymore. lets create. yes, lets create.

There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.

Like most others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.