Quiet times, times of love

The frostiness brings this wind that offers different waves of fresh air. Changes hit you in the face, but that does not mean that they are bad. Just as in everybody's normal life, photographers too have their downs and some ups. But now I am swimming in calm waters that lead me to reflect on my work as an artist.

Yana relaxing at the fireplace in Paris, Foto: Daniel Bauer

The anger is left behind to give room for the good vibrations of the entry of 2013 in Paris, the city of lights, and for me first and foremost of love. My view, my visions of things change for the smallest incidences. Because we, the veritable photographers, live our lives through the vision that some infrequent circumstances will fill us with satisfaction.

For sure I'll never abandon photography because I have it embodied in me, but my senses, yes, they do change.

You can not always swim against the current, it is useless to try that my models adopt the appearance and a resemblance to the manner of natural beauty I am looking for, even though it is not very difficult to reach. We live in the era of emptiness where there is plenty of everything but very little of the good. Superficiality expands. The long awaited...

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)