The masculine space & torso

Reading PH Emerson's advice (1888) over my bowl of cornflakes this morning he was very insistent. 1. Even if you will never be a real artist the attempt is worthwhile. And 2. don't let anything stop you getting the photograph you want.

I'd been a bit edgy the last few days over the momentum building towards (finally) doing a dress-up shoot on location in a closed old factory. I'd been nervous last week just sneaking in to take regular pictures of the interior. Intuition then had said trouble ahead but as it was, nothing happened. No violence on my person.

I prepped (shaved legs, etc.), then sort of stalled for time, did a load of washing and then hung the clothes out to dry, emailed Crispin Blunt, chair of the select committee looking at the UK's involvement in Libya in 2011, with my views which he will no doubt be informed and enlightened by. Then there was nothing much else to do apart from... go.

Three hours later and no violence on my person, although possible chemical burns on my feet. The camera display had been showing a series of orange lines in the top left corner during shooting which I don't remember seeing before and I didn't know what they meant so afterwards when nearly home (a bit late) I took the camera out and hit replay and the message came up 'No memory card installed'. Oh. I was considering if I had the energy left to go back and do it all again when suddenly the first image appeared. I clicked the thumb-wheel left and right and it turned out they were there after all. I've downloaded them and checked a couple and wonder if I should have worn a very simple dark red tunic dress instead, the nightie had been to suggest a dream state. I might have looked less of a fool.
Real and pretend:

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