Nov 08 2009
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goddamnit, i’m bad at photographing people cause i think i’m gonna fuck it all up
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for valuable consideration, i hereby grant to scott lawan, and his or her legal representatives and assigns, the irrevocable and unrestricted right to use and publish photographs of me, or in which i may be included, for editorial trade, advertising, and any other purpose and in any manner and medium; and to alter the same without restriction. i hereby release photographer and his or her legal representatives and assigns from all claims and liability relating to said photographs
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“ his short flight though the window had landed him on the floor of the bedroom, and joe had chosen to draw rosa saks the way he’d first seen her, at eye level as he picked himself up from the floor, looking past a carved acorn that crowned the footboard of the bed. she was lying passed out on her belly, her sprawling right leg kicked free of the blankets and leaving exposed rather more than half of a big and fetching tuchis. her right foot loomed large in the foreground, slender, toes curled. the lines of her bare and of her blanketed leg converged, at the ultimate vanishing point, in a coarse black bramble of shadow. in the distance of the picture, the hollows and long central valley of her back rose to a charcoal niagara of hair that obscured all but the lower portion of her face, her lips parted, her jaw wide and perhaps a bit heavy. it was a four-by-nine slice cut fresh from joe’s memory but, for all it’s immediacy, rendered in clean, unhurried lines, with a precision at once anatomical and emotional: you felt joe’s tenderness toward that curled little foot, that hollow back, that open, dreaming mouth drawing a last deep breath of unconsciousness. you wanted her to be able to go on sleeping, as long as you could watch
— the amazing adventures of kavalier & clay, michael chabon
