About anonymouslynude

privately naked, sharing nudity anonymously...doing so in an organic arty manner.

It’s Not Like It Use To Be

took a nap yesterday. very occasionally i simply need to do that. when I do, i usually sleep but good. like out cold. yesterday, the cat was pacing herself around me, trying to get me out of bed i guess. I knew her presence somehow. it was like napping with one eye open – I thought at some level she doesn’t know what is going on, but sleeping was way more valuable to me then her. she did settle in at some point. purring at the nook of my legs behind my knee.

i dreamt about a swimming pool full of cats, they were floating on their backs. sunning themselves. all of them had massive human hard ons. the dream shifted from the bright sun, brilliant blue of the pool and wet cat fur….to one of cartoon renderings. Thats when the male anatomy showed up. exaggerated and absolutely ridiculous.  and of course, rather inviting. i am sure one can analyze the heck out of the subconscious reveal of that one.

I stumbled upon this retro hairy capture.  back in the day when i let the hair on my legs and my armpits grow out. there was a lot of hair. it was dark, long and there was plenty of it. sharing that growth with all of you got me a great amount of attention. NOW though – it’s just not like it use to be.  the hair that use to be between my breasts is completely gone, the armpit and leg hair has thinned out, gotten white, there is a lot less of all of it. my pussy hair is almost all white. more course, and less dense. I then have this ridiculous volume of hair on my face. which most men/women admire for my courage of sporting it. but are not particularly attracted to. that disdain happen when i had hairy legs and armpits — unless one had a fetish for it.  I suppose my current hairy presentation would be like a bald man with a hairy chest or something.  The hair on my head is the longest it’s every been. About a foot now past shoulder length.

a lot of my fans think of me back in the day.

I Knew Even Then

i visit this one antique store rather regularly. browsing makes me happy.

in it is this large sign. I am assuming it’s from a guitar shop or something.

It reminds me of my father.

when i was 9, i took sailing lessons over summer break. i absolutely loved the lessons, I was fearless even though i was not a strong swimmer. i was actually a good sailer. the racing boats/ older kids would always invite me to crew. in a variety of circumstances I knew what to do. I felt strong and i had fun. i looked very awkward at that age. super skinny, long arms and legs. huge eyes, big teeth, super dark brown almost black hair. I was growing out a pixie hair cut. the look was uneven, my bangs were always in my face. the place where we sailed was a good 45 minute drive from home. My father would get us there and leave us, we’d sail all day. In lessons, in races. Not with my father though. I am assuming he was racing in the adult league. I remember the old clubhouse and begging strangers for quarters to put in the machine that sold little BOTTLES of coca-cola.  Oh my gosh, I loved soda pop. Spending so much time in the sun I got very tan that summer. I was proud of how I tanned vs burn.

my parents often entertained. our home was formal. separate dining room, china and cloth napkins.  My mother was a good cook. fancy sometimes. She made it all seem so seamless. Daisies were often on the dining room table in the summer. Our house was bright and breezy.

They would serve coffee and dessert in the living room. The adults would smoke. There was brandy. Once my father pulled out his ukulele. The kids were told to sit at his feet while he played. “come children, sit at your fathers feet”

Um, can you say creepy?? I knew even then. This is creepy.  I remember a few other things. my nightie was white with little blue flowers, with a tan, my nightie looked whiter. i somehow thought i was cool. i had just had a bath, my hair was dripping. especially at the back of my neck. Drip, drip, drip.  I thought sitting at my fathers feet and pretending to adore him and his horrible ukulele playing and singing was absolutely stupid. I remember faking a smile. I remember this smile faking thing with all of me.

this didn’t happen again.

but when i saw this sign i was reminded about the whole thing

Elder Dating

he was a friend of sorts. we met through craigs list, he hired me to photograph him nude in the woods. something on his bucket list. i needed the money. he was a very accomplished mid seventies male who lost a fortune. He was living within his means while he studied for his real estate license. living within his means meant he had a housekeeper, had a rather dandy vehicle, a 500,000 home, and that he travelled. often. it was immediate that i as a woman was not a fit for him. he liked younger, thin, coifed gals. make up, pushed up tits. laughingly and this really stuck with me. when speaking about dating he said…have you seen what woman look like that are my age? when i thought about it…i got what he meant. although I know handfuls of mid seventy women who are wonderful. they are down to earth and outdoorsy. he was not. he had very odd fantasies about humiliation, and asian girls. he brought one of those circumstances to reality with one of his housekeepers. yikes.

we conversed over a cup of coffee/lunch occasionally. he would spend exactly an hour with me, a VERY busy important man and all. and during that time he would pontificate about things trump, while i patiently tried to give a shit about what he said. i didn’t, at all. i had to really bite my tongue. there were times when he asked me how i was and meant it. i enjoyed making him laugh. and the story telling banter was lively. he told me more than once that my life was fascinating. I think he felt sorry for me. I was the sad, tragic and triumphant sort. I knew that someone like me was not a common person in his portfolio of folks. he collected people that he “knew” people that expanded his people horizons, but in times of certain specific need, like when i asked for help, his self importance really got in the way. he sold his pricey house, made a killing actually, and left the state to be closer to family. aging and all. once, while back in town for business….we had lunch. i was “out” with my facial hair. he was horrified by it. visibly uncomfortable. he said, “well, perhaps you could get it trimmed or something.” he then said, ” you realize that you are no longer a catch for any man.” he was one of two who said how facial hair would be the end of me. I left that hour of time with him feeling hurt. It was easy to justify what he said to who he was. Sometimes folks need to have the sense to keep their opinions to themselves. Most like him don’t. Since that circumstance a few men have crossed my path supposedly interested in me. they too sortof balked. like i’ll do you, but I won’t introduce you to any of my friends.  i am saying this thought. they didn’t so much as say but ….i am not stupid.

I bring this up because at almost 60. when it’s an especially bad day…i can feel pretty geriatric. that can’t be very attractive.

found this dress online. got it for $12. in one way the dress is very me. in another way. it’s an old lady dress. ugh

i felt pretty when i took this picture.

 

 

 

my youngest graduated college that weekend. spring 2012. helping her pack and moving her out of her house she said hey mom – this top might fit you. it didn’t, but i really liked the pattern, and the style. i had just scored lightroom software at a really low cost. for those who know my work before and then after. the software defined me artistically. game changer. plus i could now watermark my work. its one thing to have the nest empty when they go to school, but here i was. facing more reality. this gal had a life and it didn’t include me. i think i could do an entire series with imagery like this, a blur. Life is a blur

it’s already 2/19 – didn’t we just ring in the new year??

the gallery in Chicago is going to print my corset image. i get printing at cost prices. it will be a glossy 16×20 – they are throwing the frame in for free. I am beside myself at how cool this is. wow !! before i had to bring art paper to the photo shop/wait to two days for the print go back to pick it up. sign my piece and assemble, the print, matt and frame. wire the frame for hanging. wrap the piece for mailing. score a box either for free in the trash or get one at another trip out to the PO. all of which is a lot of effort. and expense.

For this print – All i had to do was send a quality file. more wow. I think the piece will sell.

I sold a collage today. it was an immediate sale after posting it on social media – poof – gone. Just like the heart photo last week. and another collage. one might think i am an artist or something. I answered another call for art. the gallery offered the same printing opportunity. what the heck!! I am thinking perhaps something on glass.

tech question. if i move my iphoto’s. like the entire portfolio onto an external hard drive. to make additional room on my image crowded lap top, will i lose my organizing efforts? what will the files look like?? i have them organized by events. or folders. am i going to have a mess on my hands trying to find my files??

anyone got access to apple products? specifically the old style macbook pro? the kind that you can run a disc in ??? or add an additional hard drive to ??? NOT kidding, re: as an ask.  I’d love to buy a new old style mac. this one is 10 years old. it still works like a charm. but i need to prepare for what in inevitable. i am hearing terrible things about the newer apple products.

 

Once Upon A Time There Was A Story

my art is narrative.

my photography and art making are story telling.

i am a gifted visual artist

I have a way with words

so i am told.

to tell the story that is now. i find myself tongue tied.

like perhaps the tale is not particularly pretty or sexy or erotic, or that there isn’t much of a story to tell, or that i am a downer.

thats a lot of “or”

i know i am downer, who am i fooling

i still get private messages that are kind, or playful, or a gift, or someone will encourages me, or my blog gets high traffic like today. ( woot )

i could think that happens because I am loved.

and that’s pretty wonderful.

the reality is most who come here have lives and commitments that do not include me.

vested interests are elsewhere.

i am pretty sure many who come here are simply looking to whack off.

but hey, if you are seeking something other than that.

i might want to know.

which gets me to the point of this post.

what makes the image posted below a delicious visual story?

this is a very beautiful, very “me” capture.

this image is what makes this blog. what made this blog?

( image by K Smith for anonymously nude )

this was taken on a crisp sunny bright winter late afternoon. near valentines day.  2011.  My hair is almost all silver now. geeesh. i had just completed an email exchange with a consistent and attentive male. after the email i felt aroused. not all fans arouse me. i have to feel a trust somehow. i have to be attracted to that person. chemistry plays a role. even in a virtual way

consistent because he was there, day in day out. attentive in that he paid attention to the details. he remembered the little things. he paid attention to the me in the equation. he knew what to say.

i took this image because i felt i had a valentine. it was fantasy, but in that moment. I was his and He was mine.

this man was married, a father, an employee at a corporate job, yet he found a way to have time for me, to validate me. the word validate is the difference between the very hot sexy excited me then, and the broken me now.

one can not look this way ( or like this image ) alone. this image is the product of two.

i don’t subscribe to the you don’t need someone else to validate you …just validate yourself!!

bullshit.

i am better when i have someone paying attention to me.

an erotic capture like the above?

takes two.

now, as the story goes

i no longer held the sexual attention of this man,

he was there for the arousal

he had needs that i was not willing to provide.

i could never really have him. loyal that he was to his marriage.

we both felt frustrated.

i was there for the kindness. i was there for the attention.

perhaps i didn’t mind the bit of self touch

on the side.

there is of course way more to the story, and the volume of them from that time.

NINE years ago.

THIS narrative however is an OLD story.

i don’t look like this now.

self touch was brand new then.

now, masturbation is pretty down and dirty.

i self love to get a desperate release.

it’s not particularly fun anymore

the attention/validation person/s

is/are long gone now.

i am different now.

there is no two to the equation.

i am not willing to play that way now.

all of it is rather sad.

don’t ya think??

I’m sorry.

i will visually share the bright and shiny old me

so as to not disappoint you with the now me.

i say this not for self pity.

OK?

i am trying to find the words

that describe what’s different.

who i am now

is not who I was then.

i think the images do it better than I do.

not sure who i am right now.

that might be the truth right there.

( images by K Smith for anonymously nude )

P.S. Sold this heart photograph yesterday. Just in time for Valentines Day. May  yours be filled with love.

IMG_7430

 

 

 

February = Love

had a great day today

a good day is a nice way to start the week

looks like february is going to have lots of plates spinning.

over the weekend i was talking to a lady about earning my living as an artist.

i love that idea.

right now, my art fund will empty with this next installation.

i have a wish list as always.

wanna hear something funny. i only sleep on one side of the bed. to a fault. so when it’s time to change the sheets i just turn everything over to the other side of the bed. is that weird? i can’t help but think it makes the sheets last longer.

i need a set of sheets.

i took this corset set 7 years ago.

the corset never really fit properly

it made for amusement in trying to lace it solo

and for making breasts that were not as low swinging as they are today

all heaving.

is that the word i want?

heaving breasts.

her breasts were heaving??

that doesn’t sound right.

i love the blur of this photo

and remembering myself

much thinner.

i love me inside the frame.

inside the frame of the photograph

its all about finding the love somehow

even if it means mustering it up from memories

february, that love month…

isn’t always lovely for all.

the fishnet unitard was different from others. it’s threads were all cotton. not some synthetic mix. the open weave offered an optical illusion of sorts when worn. i always found it super bizarre that attire like this was so damn warm to wear. it’s barely there, and yet wearing it was always rather uncomfortable.