real stuff

My intrigue to view examine these images of girls I hold in such high aesthetic esteem admittedly sky-rocketed when I knew they were unretouched. It is not so I can pick up on their flaws, take them off the pedestal of beauty & perfection and give myself a pat on the back for knowing that they're not so secretly, not so perfect and feel a bit better about myself. No, that's not it...they're still up there (EDITA). I thought as I typed I would be able to flesh out what then is the reason but 4 lines in and I still don't know what exactly it is... your thoughts?
Shot beside a window in the photographer Scott Trindle's admittedly dodgy London apartment, the girls came as they were with no makeup, hair or styling.
They're personal, revealing, intimate, endearing. That scar near her eye, those cracked lips, freckles on her nose, blemish on the forehead, lines in the corners of her mouth - no longer flaws - character. That which never fades.


///Just had an afterthought - as humans we are not, and never will be perfect in this human life, and by our nature we desire connection. How can we connect with (falsely via retouched) perfect (yes even in the idealistic aesthetic sense which I realise can be argued) beings when we know they are not real? Do you get what I'm saying? What a hot mess of my thoughts. I would invite you into my brain if I could...but I can't. I think my mind just started to become aware of a new somethin somethin that must have been scattered around my cerebral cortex. Woo

Photos: Scott Trindle for Viva via models.com

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