Flesh for Fantasy

"A picture should be the recreation of an event rather than an illustration of an object," explained painter Francis Bacon about the images on his canvases. There should be "tension in the picture [where] there is a struggle with the object." For Bacon, "real imagination is technical imagination. It is in the ways you think up to bring an event to life again. It is in the search to trap the object at a given moment. Then the technique and the object become inseparable."

I see sculpture in my friends when I go out. That's what I'm trying to photograph with my camera askew, oddly close for some to faces or shoulders or necks or whatever else someone cares to bare.


Who is out on any given night doesn't necessarily convey the feel of that night out. So, here, I want to show last Friday's fantastical F Word party through the movement of and juxtaposition of shots I took of three of its go-go boys: Johnny (above), Matthew (below), and Scott (further below).




I thank them all for letting me stand so close and snap away. I know that their job includes more than just being decoratively almost-naked eye candy.






They complement the DJ's beats, complete the night's mood. They signal more than the availability their undress might suggest. They embody the freedom that a good night out can give you. Sometimes, they serve as a model for a certain kind of freedom you can when the music moves you. I know I always say that I've done my job DJing when someone decides to disrobe on the dance floor. Too bad that security often tells them to put their clothes back on.

B*tch You Betta!

"If I didn't grab a promoter," Scott Anthony (pictured below right) told me once I pulled him up onto the table I was standing on, surveying the sea of people, "I wasn't sure I was going to get in." I'd seen Vandam's line when I peeked outside earlier. Now, I wasn't moving off this table because I wanted a good vantage of the back area where Jonté (pictured above) was soon to perform.

I'd popped down briefly to greet my de la Blanca sister Celso (pictured above left). It took me quite a while to squeeze my way back. Despite everyone's relative immobility, the crowd was happily grooving to DJ Johnny Dynell's set. Dirty Martini (pictured below) was not only shaking her money maker; she was shaking her money, too.

Kenny Kenny (pictured below) perched himself above the fray, near the DJ booth, to give everyone a gander of the fantasy he was serving that night.

But the entrée that night was Jonté. There was no room for dessert. His fantastical set showcased tracks from his upcoming CD that he was just promoting in Japan. Vandam doesn't have a proper stage; and Jonté is petite, even when sporting pumps. Still, amidst the hundreds of people and the wave of cell phones and cameras held above them recording the moment, Jonté popped. Most of us couldn't see his legwork--except when he broke into his standing splits, with his legs in a straight line perpendicular to the floor--but you could feel it. He moved so quickly and cleanly that I could barely get a shot in focus. Vocally, he was giving me Jamie Principle. Choreographically, I wanted an extended break with verses and background dancers to the side so that Jonté could rule the stage alone. The seemingly effortless poise he has deserves to be admired apart. Nevertheless, he had me gagging when he did a a little of a spaced-out version of Vanity 6's "Make Up." For the rest of the night, Jonté had me singing his cuts "Ya! Who?" and "B*tch You Betta" no matter what was actually playing up or downstairs.


I wasn't the only one left inspired. After the show, I made my way over to get some shots of the always c*ntational Jordan Fox (pictured below), who was working the hell out of her powdered wig look. Jordan said that tonight was a preview of the coming year, which she's going to amp up: "2010 isn't about hosting parties. It's about performing, like Jonté." I can't wait.