Reclaiming My Relationship With Fine Art Nudity
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I’ve been posing in front of the camera since I was a small child. I grew up with a sister nearly ten years older than me who was a photographer all my childhood. The bulk of the time I was her little muse. It was fun, I was naturally very theatrical and I lived to express myself through movement and dance so modeling for my sister wasn’t that much different. This made me very familiar with cameras, even when I was on the other side I felt like I knew how to calculate what a good shot was. Because in the beginning I was in front of it, I knew what looked good for other people’s expressions on a deeper level. I understood emotion and the storytelling behind how we posed ourselves.
I began freelance modeling at the age of twenty in 2017. My sister worked frequently with photo stock agencies and I would often participate in the assignments with her. I did a variety of gigs that year, but the following year was when I got into modeling more for myself, doing more fine art work including nudity. The first time I modeled nude I was so uncomfortable. I had finally reached a relationship with my body where I felt good enough to be exposed in front of someone else. Although I still had voices of doubt in my mind, it felt good to prove them wrong by being in my body unapologetically. I slowly began to fall in love with my physique in the frame. I loved the canvas of my curves. I loved the way my skin told its own story, including seeing the parts of my body that I wasn’t always fond of– scars, beauty marks and various skin discolorations. It showed me how ridiculous I was for believing that I needed to be at war with my body. I began to see myself as art, and so did others. Finally feeling comfortable in my body is the gift this craft has given me. I will always be grateful for being granted a different perspective of myself. To view myself through the eyes of a lover.
The more confident I became with modeling, the more comfortable I became with self-portraiture. Before you knew it, I was confident enough to share these images online. Over time my private instagram became filled with images of my naked body. I was proud of my virtual oeuvre, and so were the followers who admired my work.
At first it was simply something I found fun, I had never been so happy with sharing myself and receiving praise for it. The last year and a half it became a way to make money. I started a Patreon which was fairly successful until I switched over to my own membership site to host my images. As much as I loved this in the beginning, it was starting to weigh on me. I realized that all the supporters of my work monetarily were men. There’s nothing wrong in this, but it was affecting me due to how the work was being consumed. I can’t control people’s perspectives of me, but I went to great lengths to always ensure that I had complete control of who had access to my art. I never responded well to the thought of having something like an onlyfans. Although I’m an advocate for it, sex work is not for me. I’m too emotionally inclined. Even from the safety of my own home being an entertainer for someone doesn’t make me feel good. I didn’t mind being complimented through my instagram, but once I created a private platform for my work was when things started to shift. People were making requests and speaking to me the same way they would a sex worker. I loathed the thought of fulfilling requests, so I never did.
I wanted people to see my body the same way they would a naked woman in a renaissance painting.
I wanted people to treat my membership site the same way they would a museum.
There were many who respected me and acknowledged me as a person, but a percentage of them only saw me for my body.
It’s true what they say, once you turn a passion into your job your relationship with it changes. Especially one as intimate as this. When I first started I was genuinely empowered, but as the money began to roll in I realized that I wasn’t doing this entirely for myself anymore. There is nothing more disheartening than the act of photographing yourself naked for a few hundred bucks if it leaves you feeling empty.
I realized that despite my reservations about onlyfans, I was finding myself to be following a good variety of those women online, and I had begun to view my work similarly. Once I started to think more like a businesswoman and less like an artist is when the shift happened. Monetarily it was great, but my spirit was hurting. I could feel the fire being stripped from me even when I kept actively sharing images of myself.
Because this had become so normal to me, it stopped phasing me. I became numb.
This January I broke.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t create self portraits strictly for the sake of money.
There’s a self portrait session I did, which I shared previews in my newsletter I Forgot To Be Your Lover which was the first session in a while that actually meant something. At the time I was seeing someone who was unable to fully reciprocate feelings. During this experience I had abandoned myself. This session was me acknowledging that abandonment and giving myself an apology. It was a letter, promising to come home to myself. This made me remember why I loved fine art nudity, it made me remember what it meant to me. The incredible healing abilities of this art form.
When we remove the static of the external, we remember our true nature. Women naked on the internet has become the new norm since the rise of onlyfans and camgirls. The sad thing is, it’s encouraged a mentality of seeing ourselves as more of a product versus a work of art.
Even though I was sad when this particular set was created, it did feel good to create from the depths of my heart and to see my true self looking back at me.
This gave me hope that I could go about things differently regardless of how I was being treated, but still it bothered me. I was trying so hard to keep this flame going, the small spark that was ignited from the creations of my heartbreak.
Shortly after, I had to undergo oral surgery so I was unable to create for a solid month. When I returned, I decided to give it one more shot. I created the images previewed in my newsletter Kisses For You. This was all about reclaiming my pleasure and stepping back into my femininity as a new woman. I did enjoy taking them, but the second I shared them online I felt my heart sink. I was so confused, was I feeling shame? I couldn’t place my finger on it. All I could think was, “I love these pictures, but I hate that they’re online for people to see”.
The truth is, I don’t find empowerment sharing naked photos of myself on the internet anymore. I haven’t in a while, and I just hadn’t realized it yet because I never gave myself time to stop and think about it. I’ve spent nearly every day on social media consuming what people have to say about me, so I never considered the thought of quitting until recently.
This winter has been the most powerful wake up call to let it all go. I was so afraid of stepping down from the identity I had built online. There’s nothing like the loss of things that truly matter to make you see how silly this is. It took losing my grandmother, going through a breakup and spending a ton of money on surgery for myself to surrender to what I felt deep down.
When I surrendered is when I felt free.
When I was courageous enough to take a solid look in the mirror and say “I am worth so much more”.
I recently announced my decision to quit photography.
This week I took down the content on my membership site that made me the most money.
Today I sold my $3,000 camera.
Today I woke up feeling like my body is mine and the only people I want to see me naked are those who I’m close to and who love me.
Today I woke up feeling like I don’t want others to have easy access to me anymore.
Today I reclaim my relationship with fine art nudity, and what it means at it’s core– self celebration and adoration.
The human body is the everlasting home to our divine spirit. Whether this craft is shared, or kept private the truth remains the same. We may forget it at times, but I believe for those who honor it, we will always come home to this truth.
I’m grateful I did.
As I say goodbye to the act of always sharing myself, I welcome the gift of giving to myself again.
To dance with my own being, and to lavish in the adoration of self for nothing other than presence.
I’m excited to see what I create when no one’s watching.