A Warehouse Studio + Jane + My Soul /// Seattle Glamour Photographer

I know they say the eyes are the window to the soul, 
but I think my soul is also nakedly visible through my camera lens, sometimes, as well.

The subject matter here is undeniably beautiful --- I mean, that goes without even the slightest inkling of thinking of saying it; duh --- but, without being too selfish about it, it's shoots like these where I feel like I see my soul looking back at me from the screen; like I've wrung out my own heart, sensibilities, thoughts, daydreams, and flights of fancy, and they've materialized for me in a person, a place, a beautiful set of pixels.

Jane is such a willing muse. She's fun, and up for anything, and impossible to take a bad photo of. I also think that I love her as my muse because (as I will never tire of hearing) we kind of look alike --- at least like I'm her shorter, older, not nearly in-great-a-shape sister. And as vain as this may sound, I think, in shooting her, I get to see "me" as I've always seen myself... at least in my best moments.

You've heard, haven't you, how artists always paint themselves? How every face a painter paints is actually their own? Sure, not exactly --- but compare them sometime. It's really kind of incredible. And, really, whose face do you see every day? Whose bones and skin and features do you know better? It seems almost impossible that you could paint anyone else.

And with Jane, at least a little bit, I think I get to paint the features of my soul; project my insides onto plasma; make my favorite things -- and my favorite parts of me -- manifest: 
It's moody, grungy, even messy, but beautiful; it's glam-but-gritty; it's light-drenched, haze-washed, sunshiny softness... It's the 60s It Girl, the peace-loving homebody, it's feminine fluidity with the promise of unmistakable power, the punk siren with hint of edge, the thinker and dreamer whose eyes are a thousand miles away... It's like a soundtrack of all of my favorite songs, ever.

So, Janie, these photos may be of you, but --- sorry --- my soul left its thumbprint alllllll over them.