Cynthia's
path
to
Full
Blown
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In the fall of 1998 I had an eight, seven, and five-year old, a book ready for publication and a husband playing in the National Football League. In the midst of all that wonderful chaos entered yet another persona with erratic energy, an insatiable appetite for fun and an overwhelming feeling of inner peace. It was me! I had always been there, but "I" was emerging form being "us." Now that I look back I didn't see "me" as a problem -- we just worked it into our lives and went along for the ride. But looking way back - I wonder, "What I was doing before? Who was that girl who seemed so content, but in comparison--now paled?" I worried that perhaps my friends weren't thinking like me.
Under My Skin Under My Skin, as the gallery show was named, would be a series of intimate photographs of the women in my life. Women who were first girls to me - girls that I had known since the second grade, the seventh grade, high school. My girls. My request to them? Share what you're feeling inside. My demand? Don't call me until your ready, ready to be honest no matter what the consequence - no matter what the reaction. I worried that I had promised Tom a show by the spring and didn't have the luxury of time to wait for each of my girls to miraculously get struck by this redeeming lightning bolt. The last thing I wanted was a show with no substance. Shortly after expressing my concerns to my friend Jackie, I got an unexpected call. It was my friend Renee and she was ready. We would shoot at Jake's on Friday. The invitation read: Shut the door. Lock it. No one is home. Put in your favorite CD. Dance. Drink. Play. Smoke. Scream. Now-- can I take your picture? Conversations leading to the shoots became more therapeutic than I'd expected. Expressions of fear, awkwardness and inhibition needed nurturing. Modesty, graciousness and discretion would be my largest obstacles. I was beginning to realize that even the best of friends aren't always on the same page. Checklist: Gear, 4 backdrops, 2 studio lights, 2 reflectors, cigarettes, chocolates, wine. I had everything and we used it all. Cindy Red came to do her make up. We were four girls, and of us, Renee was the most demure, most responsible, least likely to draw attention to herself. She was the role model for appropriateness and had been all her life. ZERO inhibition, lazy eyes, white sheets, and cigarettes. A cross between a smile and a smirk. Renee looked different. Something inside was changing her and I was getting it all on film. It was a slow motion shoot that lasted until two a.m. when she could hardly stand and Jake and Red had no voice left from sudden outbursts of appreciation. We needed to call it a night, but didn't want to see it end. We wanted an encore. All we could do is stay up all night, in awe, to talk about what had just happened. A Rebirth It was Renee that happened. Turning herself inside out - she was comfortable, cool and flawless. And, she set precedent for the rest to follow that resulted in a fantastic show. Knowing Renee and seeing Renee on my invitations created quite a buzz. She was aloof and didn't give a damn. Because of her, the objectives for the shoots that followed were made very clear to the other girls - give all, or give nothing at all. No surprise to me - they took the dare. That winter was filled with weekly doses of uniformity and celebration. There were a few who weren't buying into it and I was glad because their cynicism only added dimension to the show. Girls began to share their experiences with their outside circles - instead of 18, there would be many more. Every shoot was a life and each life was intriguing. WOW! The Movement Begins When the show premiered, Under My Skin was opening minds, causing arguments, and moving. Yes, moving. One day Renee declared that this was in fact a movement where images came to be because of a group of girls who inspired each other to let go. The photos became windows to the souls of the women inside and changed the way they saw themselves. For some it was a non-apologetic admittance to feeling beautiful, shameless and secure. For others, it was the welcome chance to be reckless, not responsible and free. Sentiments were of pride and appreciation for the qualities that bind and at the same time separate women. Yet once all of the images were created and mounted, celebrated through shows, openings ad gala parties, written about in newspapers and magazines-- it was over. From there Renee and I battled to keep it going. We tried to talk about it, to write about it, to document it. But everyone had gone back to their lives and we were left wondering what separated us. Over the holidays Renee and I were in deep conversation about Under my Skin--- as we both had just seen an acquaintance that we knew -- based on her behavior, dress, etc., was "going through it." We both nodded our heads knowingly and then Renee wondered out loud--- what is "it"? What do we call it???? I said-- I didn't know, but I had the visual. From Full Bloom to Full Blown A flower blooms. To our eyes it is open and full of beauty. In this state it remains for quite a while and to our eyes it is in full bloom. But in reality -- it is not quite there. Suddenly, a final burst and there it is. What is this state called? On my way home I called a local florist to find out and the answer was, "Full Blown!" I just had to laugh because it was just so perfect! Renee and I understand now that we created Under My Skin because we were in fact at the height of our own experiences (definitely Full Blown). The others girls were, quite honestly, bullied by our energy and many of their photographs were influenced by my quest to pull this phenomenon out of them. Although they embraced the experience -- I'm not quite sure many made a soul connection to their image. In fact, over the years I have had several of them mention that they wish they could do it over again. Let's see what could that mean? So, take a chance. Let us know how you feel. Have you felt the same metamorphosis? Are we right? Let us know. | ||
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