DARK SHADOW SECRETS
One of my closest kept secrets is about my passion for fresh bread. Just rising, just browned, just warm under baked bread and rolls.
While on a photo shoot of a new restaurant client, this past Saturday, I needed to take a few shots in the kitchen and that’s where I saw the tray of rolls rising, just before they were to go in the oven. I love warm fresh rolls with real butter melting on them so the smell of hot butter drifts into my nostrils like heaven smoke. Then taking a bite of the warm, fluffy, doughy, yeast smelling bread with the cool drippy butter, just makes me want another one even before I’ve finished the one I’m eating.
Another secret of mine is how I see Black and White pictures wherever I go. This tray of butter cups was just too tempting to not turn into an Ansel Adams landscape.
And how bout this little bit of trivia. One summer I lived in an authentic Buckminster Fuller Geodesic Dome on a beautiful little lake in Pound Ridge, New York… up the street from Stanley Tucci’s home.
In another chapter, I lived in a remote village filled with trails, lakes, woods and wasps. I never got bit by these, though I loved shooting them. I did get bit by a fire ant in Florida one time, that resulted in me rushing myself to the hospital before my airways closed up. This however is a whole different story.
I’m fascinated with mannequins. Especially the way the word is spelled. I found these crowding around and posing for me, at a junk yard in Troy, New York. When it comes to headless mannequins my interest goes to a whole new level. And why aren’t the female mannequins called womannequins? Maybe the reason for my fascination is because their necks are so pronounced. Which makes me think about my fear of getting bit by vampires, thanks to Barnabas Collins who scared the crap out of me in the 70s.
Okay, one last secret. There are leg men, breast men, eye men and butt men. All admirers of the female form. Though I appreciate all those parts on a woman, my secret fetish is with women’s ankles. I think the taper of a woman’s ankle as it sweeps beneath the calf and twists and narrows into their heel, is just one of natures most thrilling feets of creation.
Barry Stein's Blog 