Kiss me, muse!

I don't have any idea about the kissing habits of where you live. Here in Spain (sorry, Catalonia...) people are kissing all the time. I meet totally unknown people and they put their hand on my shoulder and kiss me. Strange situations. I never know if two or three times are expected. You know, I hate strong perfumes, the chemical smelliness of hair spray and styling foams, the thick layers of makeup with its powdery dust that penetrates my nostrils and causes me to sneeze and sticks to my cheeks. I'd prefer some more distance. Often.

But I wanted to talk about the kiss of the muse, which is a rather figurative expression for what happens, when an artist meets a person that inspires his creativity in a magical way.

Kissed by the muse. Photo: Yana

The muse that accom­panied me during a much too short time, however, started her magic on me with the longest and sweetest kiss ever. She kissed me softly one enchanting afternoon on the beach and I realized that it was midnight when our lips separated.

At that time I had no idea about that this magically beautiful and tender being will con­vert in such a most important and influen­tial part of my life. I was laying at the beach and all I knew was, that my dream girl was kissing me, while I was literally kissed by my muse.

You know, it is very nice when a human enters in your life to whom you feel a strong connection from the beginning. It happens very rarely.

As a hetero it is even nicer when this person is of the opposite sex and you feel that you're not the only one of the two who wishes to abandon themselves to the sparkling erotic tension. Beautiful things happen in life! Sometimes.

But when this creature, that seemed to appear from nowhere, got virtually infected by my enthusiasm for art and photography and, although she had never modeled before, agreed to reveal her beauty in front of my camera, things already began to get a bit surreal.

An angel fallen from heaven? Daniel Bauer and his muse, Yana.

That's when I began to think that an angel has fallen into my life.

Her presence inspired me. She became the focus and subject of my creative work. While I influenced her development as a professional photo model, she radically influenced my visions.

Towards the end, on the peak of our relation, there was no more photographer and model. There was a team. While we sometimes discussed heavily about photographic (and all other) topics, during the work of a session our ideas complemented another in a fluid and magic manner. She was my muse.

When this happens, as a photographer, as an artist and as a man, you feel like living in heaven. But she was no angel.

And just as she appeared only some couple of years ago, she disappeared again. While my muse flew away, her influence stayed with me and the inspiration she caused still afterglows.

Sensual games, playful creativity. Yana and Daniel Bauer.

It was the second time in my photographic life that I knew a woman that was much more than a model for me.

And as they say, of all good things there are three. So there is still hope. Until another wonder happens I try not to loose the positive energy with which these few years of love and procreative cooperation have filled my soul, my heart and my brain.

Sometimes I sit on the cold and empty beach at night, see the never ending line of approaching airplanes in the dark sky and dream of a fairy that levitates thru the clouds. And I tell her: kiss me, muse!

(The private photos of this post were taken by Yana according to her ideas, while we still were a couple in love. It's the first time, the photo­grapher appears naked...)

Orgasms and other illusions

I click thru photo sites, pinterest, tumblr, ... and feel like a dinosaur.

I run across a lot of female faces in orgasmic enchantment. Sometimes quite arousing. Was the photographer really witness, or even part, of a truly exciting moment? I see all these perfect tits, faces without pores, arms without hairs, perfect bums and thighs without the lightest touch of cellulite.

All fake? All fake! Most of it.

Fake? Real? She knows. I know. You'll never know...
"Yana's orgasm" (by Daniel Bauer)

My friend Venus recently published an article in the sex column of a Spanish news paper about the reasons why many women sometimes fake orgasms.

She presumes that most men don't stop fucking until the woman reaches her climax. And if she don't, he keeps going on and on, until she pretends to cum, what finally makes him end bumping into her.

Reading this, I remembered a night with a very intimate friend. We were both very tired.

Laying on her side she snuggled against me. Feeling my dick in the warm valley between her firm little buttocks, she mumbled: "You can fuck me a little bit, if you like".

Her hand gently guided me into her. She didn't move.

I fucked her softly, and fucked her a little bit harder, holding her young ass in my hands, and fucked her a little bit more, flying away in my cloud of absolute emotional well being, feeling the warmth of her body, listening to her moaning and the exciting sound that the fluids cause when penetrating her wet pussy. The odor of her soft skin filled me with that kind of happiness where all the annoyances of the world simply disappear, when I heard her say: "I said, a little bit - I didn't mean for hours...".

So what's the advantage of faking an orgasm instead of just telling what a woman wants, exactly as my lover did it that night? I guess, some do it out of love. They don't want to hurt the self-esteem of their partner and give him the feeling of being a great lover who gives her complete satisfaction.

How nice. And how wrong.

Is she really hot? (by Daniel Bauer)

First of all she looses the chance to have sex the way she really loves.

The inexperienced man will do the same again and again because she makes him believe that this is the way she takes off. A some more experienced man will easily sense a fake orgasm.

Maybe she can control her facial expression, her sounds and the move­ment of her body, but she can not control what happens in her pussy when she's about to cum. Inside her, it's impossible not to feel it.

Her lover feels cheated and irritated (I noticed, b.t.w., that girls who fake orgasms often also are not very honest in other ranges of life...). Finally he'll ignore her simulated gestures and takes her as he'd take any prostitute. The more she fakes, the worse gets her own sex experience.

But what the fuck am I talking about all this?

I believe that fake orgasms are illustrating very clearly the disadvantages of faking anything in life. Fake stuff, no matter what, is never satisfying. It always leaves a bad taste.

Because this is an art nudes photography blog I relate this to images, too, and especially to the "optimized" women one can see in standard nude photography - which makes by far the biggest part of all published nudes. In the end these images leave everybody unsatisfied, even if on the fist sight one might consider such an over-retouched image as beautiful.

There's no photoshop in real life. Yana by Daniel Bauer

Have you ever met such a "perfect" woman in real life? You'll never find that girl with those never ending legs, the perfect tits, the always shiny hair, the spotless shaven pubes, the always erected nipples and the orgasmic face without a wrinkle.

Unfortunately women want to follow these unrealistic ideals, too. Without any success, of course, because there is no photoshop in real life.

The more we admire those "super creatures" the bigger our dis­ap­point­ment. Photo­shop produces fake goals that can never be reached and instead of enchanting us fill us with frustration. We compare reality with industrially produced stereotypes. Bombed with standardized "perfection" we loose the feeling for real, individual, human beauty. Beauty that exists and that we can love.

I'm a dinosaur. I want the real thing, and I'm not talking about the sticky soft drink.
I want real life, real love, real orgasms.

And I want real photographs of real women. Fuck photoshop! It is nothing but the fake orgasm of our times.

(Photos are symbolic illustrations and are not connected to the storyline of this post)

Eating art

The life of an artist is fantastic. Really.

An artist gets up in the morning at the time he likes to, he does what he loves to do, no fixed time tables. And no boss distresses him. Freedom! Plus, in my case, always surrounded by the most beautiful girls who, additionally, get naked when ever I ask them to. Fun! Pleasure! Love, peace and cake!

You can eat the dessert, but you cannot eat the image of it. Photo of Yana by Daniel Bauer

So, how comes that sometimes I wished I had just a common, comfy office job?

To be honest, I don't really want an office job, and it's only from time to time that this strange wish comes to my mind. When it occurs it sounds so tempting to me: simply sit down in an office whose rent I don't have to pay, doing what the supervisor tells me to do without worrying whether it makes sense or not. Knock off on schedule at 5 o'clock, bye bye, see me on the beach! Free weekends! Never thinking about how to pay the bills at the end of the month: the paycheck just rolls in, regularly. How I envy office guys and girls!

Because, you know, the stereotypes with which I began this article only apply to a small part. I must get up every day, just like you, to get my work done. There is not no boss, there are many bosses. And, imagine, all those lovely naked girls surrounding me, are most of the time only on my computer screen, the same as on yours. Except that I have to select, edit, crop them, while you can simply sit back and enjoy the results of my work. At least in those moments when your boss is not looking over your shoulder.

A happy smile for free. Yana by Daniel Bauer

However, there's another stereotype that comes much closer to the truth: artists are poor. Unless they are very, very famous, or dead, or both. Art doesn't really pay, in terms of cash I mean.

Everybody downloads art for free. That's fine. But anybody thought about the fact that the photographer had to pay for his equipment, his studio, the locations he uses, the models who undress? That he likes to eat, too?

I can't eat my art. Especially since it's only digital. What I need is money. Cash. Dollars. Euros. I also take gold nuggets or raw diamonds, if that's what you want to offer.

If you like what I'm doing and want to support my work, why don't you go to my shop and order a genuine piece of art! 

My images are available as greeting cards for only € 3,35, but also as decorative posters (less than € 32) or as framed photographic high quality prints, if you'd like to spend a bit more and have a precious original on your wall that impresses your guests and pleases you for a very long time.

If you're more on online-erotica, have a look at my other page, www.guapamania.com, and spend 2,99 Euros to get access to the hottest, very erotic series. You can download all series in various sizes (up to 4000 pixels high-res).

All my products are reasonably priced. You can imagine that I must sell hundreds of them just to cover the model fees and production costs. So every little sale is highly appreciated.

You don't buy at an anonymous production company, but directly at the artist, who takes note of your purchase. With every small purchase you get something real and, above all, actively support the survival of art. Thank you!

If you are a woman and want to give yourself something really special: did you know that an artistic, sensual photo session is very affordable?

Sensual nudes for private clients, by Daniel Bauer in Barcelona

A weekend in Barcelona is always worthwhile and the special, very personal and beautiful images I take of you (and only for you) will please you during many, many years. I get enthusiastic feedback from clients since 30 years. See "a photo of you".

Thanks for your support!

Sea, She, See

I am not a cool guy. One of my ex-girlfriends always told me so, when I tried to put on a poker face. It was meant as a compliment...

No, I'm getting too excited too often and too fast to pass for a real cool guy. I can't prevent my emotions to appear in my face and my body language. I guess I am kind of a very archaic soul. Nothing can caught my imagination so much like the sea - and the woman. The origins of life. Where we're coming from. Where we're going to.

Yana at the seaside, by Daniel Bauer

I can sit for hours at the seaside, looking almost behind the horizon, unfocused, feeling the humidity and the salt on my skin, scenting the unique odor of salty water, hearing the never ending, in every moment varying and appeasing sound of the waves rolling in. My mind flies away. I feel kind of mesmerized. I want to touch it, feel it, and sometimes it costs me quite some self-restraint to not simply walk into the water, diving into the pleasure of endless freedom, drifting almost without weight, forget about everything, my body caressed all around... I could lose myself forever.

I didn't fall in love many times in my live. I'm not talking about the flimsy butterflies in one's stomach that appear more easily in such a readily flammable person as I am. I'm talking about the real, deep feeling of really FALLING in love. The fingers of one of my hands are enough to count those few times when it happened and dragged me away like a huge wave for which no human power was strong enough to offer resistance. It always took some years, in one case 25, until that wave released me again - with luck throwing me on the beach, with less luck, on the rocks of the coast, leaving me licking my wounds.

Yana on the rocks of the coast, photo by Daniel Bauer

But while floating on the wave of love I could almost use the same words to describe my feelings as I used above, sitting on the coast. Hypnotized by her beauty, drugged by her scent, ravished by her voice. Filled with the desire to admire the marvel of her existence. Overwhelmed by the longing to feel her warmness, to touch her skin and hair, to follow the curves of her face and body, to discover her most hidden areas and secrets. To dive into her. And to stay there for ever.

No, I'm not a cool guy. When I'm thinking of complete happiness I don't think about having a fast car, a big house, a thick bank account (although it really could be a bit thicker...) or being one the most renown photographers drinking champagne on hot parties. I dream of the sea. I dream of a woman. I dream of being by the sea, making love with a woman I love.

That's what's cool for me!

chocolate

I can't get enough of sweet things.

Sweet Yana wrapped in chocolate, by Daniel Bauer

Sometimes the pleasure already begins opening the first jacket.

The delicious flavor ascends into my nose and while my fingers softly unwrap the last cover I can't wait to bite into her, to feel her softness and scent the irresistible aroma.

When she slowly melts on my tongue my desire grows beyond all bearing

Sometimes I am so very greedy that I skip the enjoyment of unwrapping.

Wild and impatiently I rip off the wrap and take her brutally, insatiable, hungry.

I prefer the dark kind. Not too soft, not too sweet, with a touch of bitter, just the right mix.

Chocolate temptation. Yana photographed by Daniel Bauer

I can't resist. She fills my heart with yoi. She makes me happy.

Making love with models

Provocative title, isn't it? And yes, it's true: I do make love with my models! Although I stay dressed, keep physical distance and don't touch.

If this sounds like a contradiction to you, you have simply mistaken love for sex. But today I am not talking about sex, even though I've chosen the title deliberately, of course, to mislead you a little bit and to gain your attention.

handcuffed on the carpet - by Daniel Bauer

My models, clients and colleagues may forgive me for using the example of a cookbook to better explain to what I am referring. As you know for sure, most of the photos in cookbooks do not at all arouse appetite. Others make your mouth waters.

Why? Well, the producer of the former simply took photos of meat, vegetable, fruit, sauces... while the artist of the latter was ravished by his presentation. He virtually ate the menu with his camera. He scented the odor with his flashes, tasted the savor with his lenses. The image that is so appetizing was taken with love. Love for his profession. Love for the object of his work.

studio nude by Daniel Bauer

Translated into nude photography, the former photographs bodies and faces, maybe even very beautiful ones, maybe even with professional lighting, correct angles and in focus, but his images will show nothing but flesh. This is what I call pOrn, regardless of hidden or explicitly shown nipples or pussies.

The latter loves his model with his camera, he caresses her with the light, he kisses her with the angles he chooses and adores her, when he releases the shutter.

As with any artist, my profession is my passion and my images are the the fruit of my love for what I do and what I see.

With my photographic art I want to portray the full joy of female sensuality and sexuality. I use eroticism in its original form, without censorship, open, you may say horny, but I don't encourage women to imitate a state of sexual arousal or to force themselves into excitement without reason. I try to create a relaxed atmosphere where she can simply be herself, feel save and appreciated for what and how she is. I want her to feel beautiful, feminine, tempting and attractive, because she is as she is, and I want her to feel that she is perfect, without any need to follow stereotypical ideals of beauty.

Just like an enamored lover looks at her thru rose-colored glasses, I look at her thru my view-finder and see her personal, own beauty, the special and unique in her. Via my lens I try to get in contact with her, to feel her, and to capture the vibrations and emotions in an image. Every woman who gets naked in front of my camera can be assured that she'll receive my full attention, love and understanding. With every click of my camera I ennoble, glamorize and let her feel touched without bodily contact, experiencing the moment and being part of an act of love.

sensual view, by Daniel Bauer

With my artistic photography I try to transform eroticism and sensuality into something pure and holy, worthy to be appreciated. In the composition of my photos you can see genuine moments, a woman in a state of pleasure without having to pretend or exaggerate anything. Although many of my photos show "everything" I believe that they distinguish expressly from the vulgar and describe a woman as a natural, adorable human being, pure in all her parts, including the origin of the world.

To search the particular in every model, feel and appreciate what we have, is the concept of my artistic nude photography. Because for me there is only one way to do things, you believe it or not, but it's all about showing the truth.
With love.

(This text was strongly inspired by an article my ex-love Yana once wrote about my work but regrettably never published. It was called "El Amante Perfecto" and some of the phrases used here I have impudently stolen from her draft.)

Visual language

I am Swiss. I speak German, a little bit french, just enough to seduce a woman, and the kind of minimal English, limited, as you are just about to read it.

streets of Barcelona,
seen by Daniel Bauer

When I first arrived to Barcelona I couldn't even say if somebody was talking Italian or Spanish. I had taken an intensive Spanish course but in the end I didn't know much more than the common necessary words like "hello", "thanks" and "please get naked".

Spanish is a very beautiful language, especially if you don't understand what people are talking, but just hear the Latin melody. Although from the same linguistic roots like french, many words are very different. More than once I asked a model to please turn her tits to the other side. Not because I wanted her to perform an anatomic feat but simply because I used the french word "tête" for head, which in Spanish sounds like "teta" - tit.

The language really offers a lot to laugh. Imagine that the only difference between chicken-meat and a dick is that the chicken ends with an "o" (pollo) while the dick ends with an "a" (polla). I never ordered a "dick sandwich" (bocadillo de polla), not because I am so very original that I never use old, fucked-up jokes, but rather because during more than 20 years I have been a strict vegetarian and so simply didn't have the chance to apply this gag of Spanish greenhorns. However, during a long time reading "pollo" on an restaurants menu made me think about my "polla" and gave me the opportunity to turn the conversation to the respective topic...

As mentioned before, I am Swiss. Always on time like my Omega watch. And loving precision. Although misunderstandings can be fun and sometimes, under optimal circumstances, even lead directly to where communication happens on a more unconscious, harmonious base where nobody cares about the difference between "ah"s and "oh"s, in most parts of my life I like communication to be precise, clear without ambiguity, direct, unmistakable. I don't like blabla and small talk.

woman enjoying herself on the carpet of Daniel Bauer's studio in Barcelona

The same applies to visual language. There is a flood of vacuous images, copies of copies of a once maybe original idea, old jokes (dick-sandwiches), photoshopped to death, like a text of beautiful words saying precisely: nothing.

An image says more than a thousand words, they say. But what if those thousand words are completely meaningless?

Just the same as in literature where there are great writers whose texts are so strong that they affect you just as if you actually would live the described situation, there are photographers whose work already on first sight, even more after lingering over it for a moment, transmit a message and let you be immersed in the other world the artist opens for you.

I've got something to say!
Yana by Daniel Bauer

But because images talk to the beholder just like words to the reader, the given information might be as precise as possible, but of course there will always be many, if not the majority, who don't understand or misunderstand the message. And just like the jovial guy whose empty hahaha-hihihi-jokes attracts much more in a party than the person who has to say something profound, original and therefore always controversial, the easy to understand image, already seen in countless versions, will have much more likes on facebook than a true piece of art. In a visual world, where choosing the right instagram app is considered as being creative, the crowd will only "like" it after that some "important" people have repeated many times that this is important artwork. They "like" it not because they really like or even understand it, but because they don't have their own criteria and so simply like what everybody likes.

Don't get me wrong: I love my work, but I don't want to put my skills not even into proximity of the mastery of the great photographers of the past and the present. But my goal is to create art images with a clear, direct and unambiguous expression. As an artist I am on a constant search for perfection, thus breaking rules and less and less considering what generally is seen as good, correct, appropriate.

May you like it or not: it's what I have to say.