 MAGDALENE 8358 © Magdalene Carmen x Damien Smith "Informal studies of the female figure led me to conclude that a healthy, beautiful, undressed female body had to be one of the most divine things on earth to contemplate. And then there were also the delightful works of 20th century master pin-up artist Gil Evgren that presented girl-next-door cheek which really tugged at my girly core. I found myself collecting Gil Evgren calendars and exploring art/life modelling + striptease. I remember the day I understood I had become Woman, not sheltered, naive Catholic girl any more (though that girl has not completely left me!) : I was waiting for my turn at the printer's when this beautiful, preppy young man with large dark curls, tender eyes and classic jaw-line entered the shop. Immediately in my head : 'He will make love to me.' This was a new thought. And a confident thought : I now understood my power as Woman. PS The beautiful man did invite me another day to home-cooked dinner at his. But the blasted hairdressers experimenting with his hair that morning had given him one stupid, aggressive, bleached rockstar head so contrary to his eyes, he now looked to me like a very pretty but idiotic poster boy, I lost all desire..."
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What is a bra but a piece of plaited string teasing you into untying me. It is not modesty. Untying's the thing. Why, I would put on the bra I do not wear for untying's sake to remind you you are privileged to unstrap me, know me bare. _____ © MAGDALENECARMEN.COM facebook.com/whatisabra  One day when I was naive a romantic-looking man said hello, walked with me from my city stop (I lived in the city). I studied him. His features were soft and pretty, his hair golden and wonderfully curly, he spoke in pleasing tones, had a half-shy, easy manner about him. So I was not afraid, I was flattered, felt comfortable, said yes to lunch with this angel before I'd head home. All this felt utterly natural to me. The man and I quickly became friends, we had much rapport. Walking me home, he picked roadside flowers for me so I was touched, just like in the movies. I let the man in my apartment, happy in his company, curious about him, trusting his gentle manner so far. And my art modelling job wasn’t till later that afternoon in a nearby college. Forward to his seduction proper, so natural, I fell easily. And then this awful wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am handling of me, the man now turning ugly and then cold, hurriedly leaving without a word when he’d got what he came for. I reported to my art modelling job in a state of shock. As was required of art models, I stood very still and naked in a couple of poses for an hour while artists drew me. I was female body both to the artists and that man. But the artists would later show work celebrating the female form while I was mere electric socket to the latter. Back home that evening, I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed myself to numbness. #MeToo (one of) © Magdalene Carmen + (sardonically underscoring 'moments like this') American Vintage Ad WWII Jantzen Swim Wear 1943 via https://envisioningtheamericandream.com/…/rosie-the-rivete…   Who photographed me here (2002ish)? I don't remember his name. But I distinctly remember being in Mr Photographer's studio. I had fucshia mules on that matched my slip dress. This is my crop & mellow filter edit of this image which struck me as rather white-bluish. Yes I had this thing for posing, Informal studies of the female figure led me to conclude that a healthy, beautiful female body had to be one of the most divine things on earth to contemplate.
 I am changed. No longer the girl untouched by broken. Go away. I do not want to play. GO AWAY © Magdalene Carmen + George Hendrik Breitner, from Girl in A Kimono series http://www.thehistoryblog.com/archives/40345   MULTIPLY LOVE #prints #posters #postcards #journals #artobjects
made on demand in Melbourne, Berlin or San Francisco (whichever's closer 2U) by Melbourne-founded Redbubble  she said he smelt clean, altar-boy good. they were my mother + my father. & i was good, clean, Catholic — stirred by the dirty about you starting with your shoes, quarry-muddy; the smell of your mechanic’s sweat, of grease, grime and irreverence contrary to my air of jonquils erlicheer. & we both laughed at Louis C.K.’s dissection of stupidity. ____ +Magdalene Carmen photographed by Peter Matulich  MULTIPLY LOVE #prints #posters #postcards #journals #artobjects made on demand in Melbourne, Berlin or San Francisco (whichever's closer 2U) by Melbourne-founded Redbubble  The most beautiful woman is unknown. You did not know the most beautiful woman in 1984. She was my mother. My mother chose my father who was not the town king of my mother’s town when she was queen, but lord he knew what he wanted. My mother was wise before she was queen. I saw her rise in the mornings and make herself Woman and Teacher before the mirror. I did not know what it meant to be Woman, to be Teacher, until I read the beauty magazines and changed every woman’s picture with my mother’s face. Would the most beautiful woman elected by the most beautiful magazine walk the ugliest street and make it alive to the Book of Guinness? Would the most beautiful woman -- undressed and without hairbrush or film crew -- walk the earth for every ugly thing that’s made her beauty worth $12million? The most beautiful woman is unknown. And naked and free in a jungle outside New York. _____ + Magdalene Carmen photographed by Damien Smith |
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