The delicate cut

Picture this.

On my knees, camera laid on the ground next to me, I’m holding a knife I had bought on a major retail store after sending pictures to the model and having her confirmation: it would fit nicely.

The model has standing in front of me, and to my left was a friend I had invited to help me with the mixing of honey and gooseberry to fake the blood on the blade. The model was not comfortable holding the knife, so it was up to me to push the handle inside her body, which I did carefully, asking repeatedly if it was hurting. It was not. To get the picture you want, sometimes you have to go through uncommon situations.

For the next two and half hours the model stood there, holding two nylon strings to keep the knife from falling, while I tried to get the lights just right, with what I would perceive to be the best shining on the blade, with the blood dripping. So this is the how. Two studio heads pointed at a white overexposed background, a cropped Canon camera, a model with a knife inserted in her. That is what you’re seeing. But why?

For the longest time I had this idea of picturing a faceless woman with something sharp on her genitalia. It wasn’t about any particular woman, it certainly wasn’t about rubbing a woman’s genitalia on your face, it was about power. Power, you ask? Yes. About power. The power I feel, as a man, women have. Women are powerful, and one of their many powers is to hurt us, as we gravitate towards them, seeking pleasure. The blood on the knife isn’t theirs, it’s ours, it’s men blood. You can interpret this photograph in many ways, and that’s ok. It’s just that now you know what got me into it.