ISSUES

thanks for the blog traffic the other day someone.

it’s nice to know that someone is here.

may not be more than that

but still. it’s nice

long and last summer weekend coming up.

i’ve been taking 4 day weekends most of the summer

pretending that it’s fun somehow.

escapism at its best

september launches sequential birthdays

birthdays of the most important people in my life

mine included.

the big six o

is that a big birthday?

ugh.

send presents.

pandemic times put some of my health issues on pause

some really have to be attended to

this fills up my time/because it’s stupid

hoopy loopy insurance game playing stupid

and, because my bandwidth for all of it emotionally is pretty low

i am having panic attacks.

well not attacks. i had one.

but still.

health issues

took two images of myself in august.

one is too revealing of my face

but i actually like it.

this one is the most recent.

i like this one too

i don’t know how much i will be around the upcoming weeks.

focus is going internal.

well being centric focus.

send presents.


Kind And True

there is traffic here.

at the blog

that’s nice.

thank you.

over at flickr.

gawkers, and collectors

and rif raf prevail.

a few are

“people”

kind and true.

i appreciate you too.

the people.

it’s been said that i use to be

different.

yes, i took more risks, i was more playful, i was expressed in a different way.

but that’s not because of me.

the really good images i’ve taken??

those come from

attention from all of you.

in the heat of things anonymously nude

where there was dating, and trysts, and newness

many many more of you were way way way more attentive.

i am not complaining.

truth be, today.

not sure if i could be as responsive as I was then.

i became broken if you recall

jilted,

and triggered.

it doesn’t mean that i am not still in here

somewhere.

it just means a certain patient understanding kind and true

person would have to be at the core of the attention i need and deserve..

i was finding self love way before it was trendy

but really?

self love is a crock of mainstream bullshit

love yourself??

be accepting?

nah.

how about allowing others to contribute

how about connection

compliments,

and attention.

be nice to your neighbor for goodness sake.

am i not the gal next door??

that’s what everyone use to say

don’t forget

some chocolate cake.

( had to throw that in there. i am off any and all food that is fun and i am dying )

images below all were spired by the personal attention of someone. a man.

the gift of their attention had me feel pretty, wanting to please and playful

plus i was way hairier.

sigh

 

OFF

tomorrow is thursday.

a week ago, on thursday i thought it was wednesday

i then proceeded to think friday was thursday.

i was on the wrong day for two entire days

oblivious.

when i found out it was friday.

imagine how mortified i felt.

imagine the befuddlement

for the life of me i can’t figure out how i did it.

HOW on earth???

and noone said anything.

if you recall i’ve done this one other time before

and felt equally puzzled by it.

WTF.

i can only blame pandemic times.

my good news of the week is that i am in a virtual group show in chicago.

it opens june 5th.

it’s my first opening since early march.

that steam punk show got lost in the pandemic shuffle.

the theme for this one is “touch”

i had done this piece about masturbation

i felt it was a good fit for the art call.

while the show was juried, one piece was gauranteed an in

i only sent in the one.

the 8.5 x 11 mixed media piece includes an image i took a good 10 years ago.

i then made it into a crazy quilt style panel. using magazines, stitching and ribbon. The edges are bound like a quilt. the collage has a baroque feel I think.

with regard to this image at that time i wondered what masturbation might “look like” this was a take on it that i loved. using a timer.

i am very proud of this. its a unique one of a kind piece.

i’ve made others.

let me know if you feel curious to see them.

Dear Journalist

quite some time ago I ran across an article written by a supposed hirsute journalist. the article angered me. so much so, i sat down and wrote her a letter. i never finished said letter, but came across my notes for it the other day.

i was angry because she went on an on about the right to be hairy but she shaved to please her boyfriend.

she said why should he have to endure her armpits which were an aesthetic assault to those around her. especially her man.

she then went on to say how liberated and furry proud she was. her decision to be hairy was declarative, a feminist act, an aggression of sorts

but for him she shaved

does that make sense??

dear hirsute journalist, i wanted to write to you to acknowledge your recent article, it’s interesting to me what becomes news today. I like you am a hirsute female. I have a long history of trying to fit my natural presence in an unnatural society. i feel perhaps more seasoned in the battle. it’s one thing to personally wrestle with having more hair than those around you. it’s another to find the internal courage to be with it. even more courage to be out loud about it…your article made no sense to me. How can you declare a personal i am hairy victory and shave at the will of a boyfriend?”

that’s as far as the letter got….i remember feeling like the topic of hair was really bait for some whiney article that wasn’t about hirsutism at all.

it made me dislike her.

when i braved growing my legs and armpits out 10 years ago. i was actually VERY brave. when the hair growth was in it’s full glory – it was beautiful. I fell for it as much as you did. The reality and day to day world around me? Not so much. I was shunned. I was verbally assaulted. I was misunderstood.

TODAY — a decade later, and this is why i am writing this post. my pit hair is not nearly as abundant. it’s thinned, it’s not very dark, its certainly not what it use to be. same for the hair on my legs. even my pussy hair is different.

the hair on my face is where the current abundance is.

try that one on dear journalist.

When There Are Two Of You

while an alter ego isn’t a multiple personality

there are two ways that i portray myself

i notice this duality mostly with men.

lets start with dating. from a decade ago

my duality was expressed most then

lets say its me. me/me. not nude me

just regular me.

i met guys through online dating

if something clicked via email.

i took it to phone.

my dating profile might share that i am a creative, that i am complicated/quirky, that i have an empty nest, that i love to cook and take road trips. most men tell me that they love my phone voice. i would share my distaste for smokers. or other deal breakers. I would ask a ton of questions. the first call is a test/ a screening of sorts. can they keep a conversation going, are they inquisitive, do we have anything in common. It’s at this time that i wonder should i tell them that i am nude online?? Or do I wait. Because more often than not – men who are curious about me and find out that i am nude on line are horrified.

some comments include: you mean i’d have to share you? what are you some sortof slut? why would you do that? and then i’d have to explain. ( well i am a creative and it’s an art form. a bit like performance art with out the performing and and and ) Those men I never meet.

the reason i’ve wanted to be upfront about my nudity is at some layer whoever my next lover is  i have long hoped that person would be my muse. that if we coupled and it stuck, that i could photograph it.

otherwise. what’s the point.

there are then men who read my blog. they want to meet me. they decide that I am interesting or fascinating or brave. or they want to befriend me, while they have seen me very nude, and masturbating. the framing for a meet is different.  it’s going to be a tryst.  it’s going to be sexual, it’s something we don’t tell anyone about or photograph, and its not necessarily a circumstance where someone is going to know or get or inquire about the real me.or for that matter…have time for me. i am entertainment. peripheral.

this is simply my experience,

i am not complaining. i am speculating.

the tryst. while rather exciting in it’s moment

tends to then fall flat.

it has no room to blossom or become

i want to see you are empty statements

placating

and untrue.

well, perhaps the desire is there. the reality has no truth.

don’t say what you don’t mean.

or can’t bring to fruition i say.

the meet is taking. self serve.

perhaps that’s what trysts are.

i ache always for more.

perhaps that’s an issue.

it’s been forever now that i’ve dealt with either circumstance

may be forever that I ever will.

which way would it be best for you to know me?

i love this very moody self portrait taken in the home i lost. 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

You Are Invited.

for those of you in the midwest/chicago land area.

perhaps you’d care to attend an art  opening 

Jan 24th. 6-10 PM

The exhibit runs through March 1st otherwise.

and is also viewable online.

It would be rather wild if my photography piece sold to a fan!

I will unfortunately not be in attendance for the opening. cost of a plane ticket is rather prohibitive. add that i am sick. it’s best i observe from afar. 

NOTE : this is K Smith work, not AN work. I know to you that the two are the same. I am trying to assert myself as K Smith in the realm of nude art outside of the work here this last decade….

THE BEST OF 2019

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.

The Friday After

i grocery shopped monday.

i, like everyone else, blew off shopping on the weekend.

so, the store was stupid full of people,

the store added more inventory so the aisles were more stupid full of all you need for turkey, buy buy buy …stupid

the look on folks faces was one of both panic and ….wait for it, stupid!!!

i needed everything, so i knew I was stupid and it was going to be a long or at least 90 minute shop

add another hour to that.

2 1/2 hours. yup.

and i could only blame myself for waiting until monday.

so… i donned my imaginary big wide brimmed “i am very patient” hat.

and just tried to be nice. what else can you do??

in the spirit of people watching.

a few stood out.

a few who had either a spirit of kindness about them,

or that fuck you get out of my fucking way i need a fucking turkey spirit.

i perused their carts. overflowing, and made up a story about them.

the fuck you dude was wearing a suit. we don’t get a lot of suits in this store. just sayin …

i think he was shopping for his mother. what he had in his cart did not look like him.  i saw him think really hard about buying flowers. he stood considering them for a very very long while. when he picked them up, I thought way to go dude in the suit. someone will feel that long thought. that decision to get. he will brighten someone’s day with those flowers.

the gal who almost needed two carts was i think a mom, or a seriously generous sister or aunt to folks with kids. her cart was piled so high she could barely see over it. she was pretty, dressed smart and rather funny in the way she shopped. she caught me staring at her. i made a recommendation, and then made her really laugh. and then I had to apologize because I almost cried. that sortof cry that comes from the relief of a good laugh. shit. there i am the bearded lady in the grocery store. sobbing. note: i didn’t cry in the grocery store. but i was close.

i did cry earlier though. i mailed off some holiday packages. with a great sense of pride actually because i had saved all year so that i could send something off to the few in my life that i want to gift to. just 3 packages. but i filled them with love. from me. which i haven’t been able to do in a long while. one of the items i sent was “smoked salt”. don’t laugh. if i sent you salt. you would thank me. kid you not.

anyway, earlier i had to parallel park. i can. i am not afraid or avoid that type of parking, i just take my time when i do it. a dude behind me waited. he then stopped next to me with a huge grin on his face and gestured a thumbs up. not an asshole thumbs up, but a real genuine thumbs up. like way to go nice parking job lady thumbs up. it was a gesture from a perfect stranger that caught me completely by surprise.  I totally lost it. big tears down my cheeks, head down on the steering wheel. shoulders shaking. sobbing. which actually felt really good.

i looked like a train wreck going into the very crowded post office and found i was shaking. emotional release and all.  i thought. you are loved somehow. in this world that you do all by yourself. people love you.

perhaps you recall a year ago. my bearded face and i were acknowledged by a room full of strangers. i unanimously won the people’s choice award. it took every single part of me not to lose it in front of that crowd of people who affirmed my courage and my gumption to grow the hair out on my face. pretty great shit.

i am in a mood today because i feel like i FINALLY have found some peace around the topic of solo and holiday. i finally get how to have it be mine. to own it.

when folks ask – any special plans for thanksgiving?? ( the very worst question someone can ask a lonely person quite truthfully ) 

i get to say. “NO. not a single plan, isn’t that wonderful?? I have a new book, and some great meals I plan to make and nowhere to go. It’s perfect!!” 

and it was!!

i had the best day!!

all by myself.

well, me and my cat.

i think i get it now. i get how to do holiday and be completely free around the entire hoopla of it.

where 10 years ago, i felt it. empty nest felt it. new, in a new town in a new house. new. alone. oppressively alone. felt it.  i wasn’t a stranger to not having my children with me, they defaulted to their fathers side of the family for all holidays many years before. we found our way to do celebrations but as they grew older. i was last in the family equation. and i felt it.

i am not sure why this year feels like an “i’ve got this” epiphany. but it does.

i was just having a flashback to the horror of two years of holiday and the meals served from the extended family of mr cowboy. how can anyone ruin a turkey dinner? powdered potatoes in a plastic lined crock pot…..are you kidding me???