Just shy of graduating from film school, I'd been reading Laura Mulvey's writings and was marginally immersed in feminist film theory. That, and I liked watching her. Film school for me felt like a constant struggle to find meaning, or perhaps to manufacture meaning. A pipe was never just a pipe, and a cigar was never merely a cigar. The clicking of the camera was sporadic.
Fashion photographers can afford rolls of film and motorized rigs.
College students spend each frame as though it's their last cent. She really was beautiful, my girlfriend. I felt a swelling pride watching her move and react to the camera. I'd never concerned myself too seriously with beauty in the traditional sense. But now that I was involved with someone of movie-star caliber looks, I embraced it, like the trailer park inhabitant who has a sudden lottery windfall.