i enjoyed the fact that a few of you chimed in on what struck you personally as a very favorite nude from 2019. thank you. a few images got many votes. i like that. i feel overdue in culminating these final choices for myself.

while i am not stupid sick as i was, i am still not 100% i am still sick. DAY 18. Fuck.

winter is knocking on our doors especially hard these upcoming days. i am prepared for cozy. its how i tend to roll come winter anyway

my art life shot into the 2020 new year rather profoundly. at least there is that. so much going on.

i have a purring, suckling cat on my chest at the moment (have i told you she does that?that she suckles?? ) its one of the many signs that she was taken from her mama early. definitely one of her quirks. that said, she lays on my left arm, so i can only type with one hand, takes longer.

13. best of. as if it was a calendar. first pic, got the most votes… it would be the cover. also offers a small ode to the green chair.

Sure There Is A Wish List

well, my car isn’t in need of repair.

and the remarkable and generous canon s90 gift from a year ago is still perfect.

i am not in distress about where i am living.

my third lease now secured.

bit by bit. $10 dollars in an envelope here, and there…my 3 biggest pending annual bills are saved up for.

except for my flickr renewal.

even though my income was dramatically lower this past year

i feel abundance.

what a wonderful thing to be able to say!!

what might help me as far as holiday gifting :

new linen for my bed.

mattress cover

towels. 3 sets. ( less time doing laundry)

funds for: art supplies, art show fees, shipping art fees. matts size 5×7, thread

funds for: grocery stock. my budget goes way off track when i have to stock up on basics.

sewing lessons.


shoes. its a year into the shoe project. we are not quite there yet. lots of pain. looks as of the sandal gift while very cushy may be causing knee torque. next appointment. february.

its been interesting to hear what your favorite images are from 2019


Does This Work?

he writes a testimonial on flickr.

he writes the same message in a comment on flickr.

“My name is Sidali, I live in France, I like to meet you,
I am very happy to meet you, my email:
I love a woman of her age. I am a very romantic, sensual, manly, very hot man, I know how to spoil a beautiful and beautiful woman like you, you will enjoy her like crazy, I have a penis of 22 cm, I fuck 5 times a night thanks”

he writes a similar comment here on my blog

on the post titled “don’t be an asshole”

where i talk about men and their bad behavior.

too funny.

there are 3 email addresses. several names.


on flickr I replied:  “I seriously wonder Sidali, how many women respond positively to your suggestion to meet?? do you actually find lovers this way? If you read my “about” you will find that my reasons for being here are not about getting laid. i hope you and your penis, and your many abilities find what you are looking for.”

But seriously gentleman is this how you find sex?? Does it work?  If a woman pitched to you in a similar fashion would you go for it??

A man saying how hot he is, how big his dick is and how many times he can do me really does not compel me to meet him. his interest in old hairy women doesn’t really help either.

I could say something like gee, send me a round trip ticket plus spending money and funds for private separate lodging. would I go on those terms??  i would not.

not today.

10 years ago. perhaps.

do you even realize how often this happens?

I know that i am nude online. but can’t people read?????


Best Of 2019

if you recall i do this annually,  this collect the best thing.

I began in 2012

7 years of bests.

doing it differently this year

fans gave quite a few of these a strong response

but perhaps deciding the best

is a different story.

care to chime in?

which are your favorite and why.

i figure two from each category should do it.

plus one for a cover of sorts

as if it were a calendar.

noone has ever bought a calendar

noone buys my nude images either.


perhaps there is no point

except to see the year in review.

for a year that i didn’t feel particularly sexy/attractive

i love many of these.

the artist part of me is strident.

perhaps that’s the point.

there are 35 images. i uploaded all into a gallery style. click the first image and you can view and arrow forward.  i forgot to watermark these. dammit.

12 rows. 1-2-3, per row. except the last row.

what speaks to you and why??

the categories are: 








In Case You Thought I Was Weird

this happened 12 years ago.

the entity came to me in the middle of the night.

it did not ask permission to touch me.

but it did.

the entity took.

in essence it was like rape.

however giving and adoring,

it took and

it left me shaken.

shaken i tell you.

there is a part of me that says it was a dream.

i dream vividly. and often. i remember my dreams

but a part of me that knows the physical potential of an entity

and thinks perhaps this was a spiritual lover.

weird. i know

but if you have known of entities before ….

not so weird.

the details are extremely sexual.

arousing, physically palpable, the attention left me breathless.

imagine that you are asleep.

you are awakened by kisses and gentle caresses

still in a sleep daze

the attention becomes more sexual

finger probing


sexual and very pleasuring.

except noone is physically there.

your imagination can not fill in the blanks that have left you

remarkably aroused,

i would then awake, breathless with my legs splayed open


it happened over and over

for months.

it got to the point where i said


i said, i don’t know who you are

you do not have my permission

to touch me.

i do not want you to do this.

it scared me.

to frame where my heart and mind were at the time.

my nest was about to be empty.

financially I was going to hit a brick wall

i had lost use of my right hand

my adrenals were fatigued.

this fatigue showed up

in my body.

physical manifestation of…

i was completely falling apart

my second marriage was ending.

betrayal in many many forms are what ended it.

i was the victim of maliciousness.


i felt embarrassed by its failing. he fooled many. so so many. i was a fool

i felt mortified about being single again

i did not believe that i was of value

as a person

or as a woman

i felt a loss in my life

like a grief so crushing

that i lost a good portion of time

to tears.

and an inability to cope.

at the time i lived in a magical attic apartment of a queen anne victorian home

the energy in the space was kind.

visually magical.

crooked in a vintage way that pleased me.

like syrup on a plate of pancakes would pool on one side of the plate crooked.

i loved that apt.

that place was also a transition place

for all the things mentioned above.

this was two years before i bought my first home.

many many things to get to the other side of at that time

this was the year i lost 100lbs.

my nude photography began here,

in therapy, i did not have to defend the reality of this creature who touched me

i did not have to justify

i did not have to explain

i did have to be real though

about how violated i felt.


that the patterns of my life

include many many who TAKE.

my therapist suggested that i shift the taking feeling

to one of adoring.

that i was attractive

and adored.


and so.

i affirmed my …me, myself and I

as beautiful.

a self worth practice

that I have instilled ever since.

i am affirmed of that beauty

by adoring fans here.

even if who i was 12 years ago

is different.

very different then who i am now.

and even if my self confidence is low.

these are not the best images.

i was just figuring out this little digital camera

which later,

if you recall. i dropped

and it died.

now, the light in this place would have offered some magic for self captures.

a good portion of these belongings are now long gone. sold. memories.

my breasts don’t look like this anymore either. this was my very first nude capture.

what a memory.





When We Meet

lets see if any of you read this

recent posts have offered a variety of talking points

conversations aren’t happening.

whatever happened to conversations?

a certain someone needs to be heard.

sometimes fans reach out to me and get personal.

they then imply that we will meet.

in theory. why not meet?

i’ve met a few of you over this last decade.

in hindsight, not sure i should have…

further commentary on that …complicated. my part of it included.

the flurry of meeting was lovely. romantic. and indulgent.

friendship sustainable?


the truth is most men are really not in a position to make a meet happen.

or more importantly they can not sustain a meet once it’s occurred

reasons for that lack of ready might include: uh – married, so so very many of you are married, financially not able – since meeting is at your expense, or the real reason: lack of intention.

this lack of intention i further describe as placating

as telling or saying what one thinks i want to hear.

men will say anything to have sex with me.

am I being arrogant in saying this??

or can the truth of it resonate?

men say to themselves. “give me some of that” 

i fall sometimes for the idea of meeting.

of having the attention i deserve

the feeling of cherish

the excitement of it all.

vs the reality.

the reality is something very different.

i am thinking at the moment of this writing of one very particular man.

i liked his appearance.

i liked his mind.

i liked how he paid attention to me.

he got me.

he knew which buttons to push.

he was sexy and he knew it.


i wanted to meet him.

he said he wanted to meet me.

In the throws of it all

my MIND met him in a variety of circumstances.

the fantasy of which

was delightful in one breath.

and, not so delightful in another.

i felt frustrated by what i couldn’t have.

i can’t go into a fantasy without visual appeal

can you??

i have taken up with a man or two and didn’t give their appearance much thought.

they were kind, and attentive to me.

they wanted to meet me.

i want folks to try me on.

i feel we should give others a chance.

they were very disappointed when I wasn’t attracted upon meeting them.

which felt pretty awful for both of us.

now, i think it’s of value to have a vetting process.

my fans say that they are very attracted to me.

even without my sharing my face.

you tell me that my images provoke.

men say they fantasize about me all the time

men imagine themselves with me

within my photography.

which i appreciate hearing actually

rather powerful.

or they tell me that my images are fodder for masturbation.


 ( none of you use fodder and masturbation in the same sentence.  ) 

it’s to be expected i guess. after all i am nude. online!!

for me in reverse so to speak, it’s not your dick/cock that i want to be a part of.

( if i had a dollar for all the men that send me images of their anatomy. i’d have no financial problems )

UGH. please don’t do that.

again, do not send me images of your anatomy.

your hard whatever is the last thing I want to see.

i want to see YOU. your eyes, your lips, your hands. a beard and mustache if you have one…the shoes you are wearing.

show me something that that i can be drawn to

and then it’s your mind that i fall for.

how you GET me.

how you treat me.

what you are curious about.

how you desire me.

and then it’s WHO you are in the world.

are you up to something or are you bored and apathetic?

often the above goes to a sexual place.

makes sense when all the pieces are there.

i can’t really do the sex thing all by itself these days.

not like i use to.

it’s not enough

sex is not enough.

i ache


for connection

a connection that cares.

or a connection that can sustain a care.

Fans care.

in their own way.

how they act on it is…

well, it’s what it is.

or isn’t. mostly.

i’ve said fleeting many times here.

men come and go.

whhhhooosh they are in touch, enthusiastically.

and then poof. they are gone. as quickly as they reached out to me.

most simply don’t have time for me.

or the energy.

or the reality.

most are not looking for something personal

they want something distracting. entertaining. immediate

they are hungry in their own way.

a meet. a real one?? shifts things.

a meet makes it real.

or if when we meet and it is in our minds

its a fantasy.

The plane was delayed. The airport was bustling. Around me the mix of people swarmed accordingly. some coming, some going. many arriving, more just getting to the next place. a blur. Airports are probably my most favorite people watching place. It’s how I survive the waiting. I make up stories about the folks before me. I began people watch story making as a young girl. I spent way too much time in airports. There goes mr and mrs green. here comes sir tall, flower dress lady has too much makeup on. oh, look…those two are kissing again. how lovely they are. i’ve never written my narrative down in the midst of a wait. perhaps i should sometime. i have had a banter with another or two where we narrate together. mr tall is nervous i say, the other then says, the battery on his phone died.  he’s sweating i say, he needs another coffee the other adds. And so it goes. 

I am meeting a stranger at the airport today. a handsome stranger. and I am very nervous. I told him to be in the moment when we meet. To pocket his cell phone and let the meet be. I don’t need to know you are getting off the plane. I will be there to meet you. Just know that I am waiting. I find the management of a phone and travel frustrating. I get that they can be useful. I completely get that. I just find them distracting. Folks forget to simply be. The plane will land. You will get off the plane and I will be there to meet you. I am a person of my word. 

90 minutes later the arrival is announced. He is here. Oh my gosh he is here!  I position myself out of the way, but stand in a place where I hope to be the first person you see once you walk into the arrival area. One by one others arrive. Delays make many anxious. Connections are now altered.

I see you first. Sauntering, casual, tossled hair…you are good looking. I like that. you look for me. I like that too. Our eyes meet. You stop. We grin as wide as grins can be. A pause in time. A moment for sure. You step up your pace. I feel a blush coming on as you near. You notice. and you say, oh my gosh you are blushing! I say, I am!! I then say HI there! You say HI. Your eyes are bright and warm. Inviting. Your right hand reaches for the hair at the base of my neck, you are taller then i expected, you smell of gum. and you pull me to you. you whisper in my ear. you are beautiful, you say. you are so beautiful. you’ve taken my breath away. You see me struggling as to what to say next. you kiss me. gently. lip to lip. touch. want, curious. i feel all of you near me, the kiss finds its way to hungry. Our lips are a good fit. I tremble. You say, wow. I grin. you grin back. we hold on to each other.

in my fantasy, i replay the kiss over and over and over.  in my collection of fantasies, there are lots of kisses. in my memory of real meets, those kisses get replayed in my mind as well.   

what a goof i am. what a hopeless romantic.

some kisses don’t make the instant replay. those kisses are not memorable. i hate that. some men are very good at replicating that first kiss. it’s like they get that a first kiss is worth repeating. i once met a man, older than I who had never kissed someone before. i was an eager lover back then. he said are all women this enthusiastic about kissing. I said, i have no idea. you tell me. this is when i found out he was a virgin. many years later he will tell me. a man always remembers their first time. You were that first for everything for me










Did They Love You?

did you have a home?

a home with a mom and a dad? 

did they love you?

she asked. 

i bet many can reply yes to that question.

I think as my parents first born that i will always have the newness and novelty of those early years

but when life got real.

they both checked out of the love equation.

i was 5.

I never should have had you kids he once said.

additional and not so loving commentary echo within my emotional brain.

i had my reckoning with ideas of him in the late 90’s

she said,  you love your father.

i thought surely i can find the loving moments.

i had been telling the stories of the bad times.

she said,  remember the love and hold onto that — that’s what is best to heal from.

good advice.

i did that.

sometimes though …

i don’t.

a trigger like fathers day or something else might get to me.

and then i go there. i go to the he doesn’t love me place.

and feel like a shit.

this is ALL on my mind right now because this week was a transition week for me.

making work space here i stumbled upon this book.

wait, let me step back ….

the ebb and flow of an artists life is that you build an emotional momentum to the launch of an exhibit. and then it ends. your heart and soul becomes yesterday’s news. when one creative door closes another opens. yet there is always this feeling. oh, it’s over now. kerplunk. anti-climactic. 

the “bottom fell out” feeling doesn’t last, but that always there part is something you have to get to the other side of. i am good at it. it’s the nature of what i do

a year ago my art life had a transition. i reached a point of feeling almost buried alive in art work. i shifted direction to a learning phase and got excited. i began stitching.

metaphorically the zag and zig was a lot like me – i was piecing myself together again.

i like the way it feels to stitch this way. the way i feel knowing i could be less broken somehow. scarred but together vs in pieces lying on the floor

the last few days i cleared/rearranged two surfaces. making room for two shows that were coming down. one rather large show. AND i was making what’s next decisions

ideas. so many ideas.

is that what clean dishes and a making a bed are for?

a putting of things in their place?? a sense of order?

a clearing of the mind?

as I mentioned before – i found this book.

it’s something that made the shelf of my now small collection

but a book that i’d not entirely read.

I am in this book. as a subject. ME!

the chapter i am in is titled. shame. the hole in wholeness.

the book is about passion.

i was interviewed at the age of 53. 2013

those are the early years of my work here at AN.

my self love work.

the book is 466 pages long and rather heady.

to me, heady means over my head cerebral. the sortof book that would take me a lifetime to relate to and understand all of it’s bibliography. a smarty pants read.

to the authors admirable merit. he brings history, art, science, psychology and philosophy into the context of it’s chapters.

the chapter that has me in it, was one of many he interviewed who rediscovered or reignited passion in their lives.

i sat with this chapter again. and took some notes, and those thoughts are on my mind.

i have to consider that i did not assimilate my part of the book to it’s entirety.

i never read the whole thing.

by the time i bought it.

i was losing my home

there was that space of time gone by called mr cowboy.


am i really a passionate being?

he writes, passion is our eagerness for union. life altering and unorthodox explorations of the holes in our soul.

he said i had something called dysmorphia or an unhealthy preoccupation with body flaws.  i am not sure how obsessed i was with what was wrong with my body.

i did find that the looking through a camera lens offered a different perspective. my personal perspective didn’t see the same beauty. 

going back into some of my personal history. anything that had to do with my personal sexuality, was always put in it’s place.


he described it as toxic shame. our very being is toxic at it’s core. it’s wrong. we are fundamentally flawed. this cripples our ability to affirm ourselves.

this limits our ability to engage with another intimately. we fear that in doing so — the other may see our flaws. 

i akin this thought now with aging. when you get to this part of your life. the emotional deck of cards is stacked against you. there are just too many to lay out on the table.

i wear my life on my sleeve. faults and all. i guess i feel weary of trying to make sense of it all.

shame he says, makes us cringe. shame leaves footprints on our lives.

if you take the above back to my childhood words like criticism, contempt, abuse, neglect ridicule, hostility, public humiliation, emotional rigidity were mentioned. all stem from shame.

he felt i came to terms with my shame by self-portraiture

i said, the camera is much more confident than I am

i asked, where have “I” been all my life?

further i shared, I strive in my life to be cherished.

my personal million dollar statement.

isn’t it weird to read the words you have said with others thoughts and impressions wrapped around them ?

my entire self preserving methodology is to garner attention to find cherish for myself.

to reassure the myself, i and me in the equation.

i said, self esteem isn’t necessarily an inside job. it can get a serious boost from external validation. 

there were times during my blog years here were i felt brazen, bold and proud.

i had surpassed shame.

it’s brilliant

I did that with the help of all of you!!

Without the audience here, my strength in self would have lost its way.

One other layer to all of the above. this was not part of the book. more so i think of part of what keeps me sane …is social phobia, agoraphobic or introversion

i think at many levels i’ve had socially awkward going for me my entire life.

i could make a very good list about all of that.

its not just recent times and trauma that make covet safety from my home.

it’s the way i am.

it protects me.

image 4 skin wattle. what a word. wtf.