Even the Tame Can be Too Spicy for Instagram.

I’ve been archiving and organizing a life’s work of friendships, photoshoots, travel, and modeling in recent months as a way to reconnect with my photographic practice and make sense of my purpose.

This intentionality has made me realize just how much of that life I don’t share online, probably because, deep down, I recognize it’s sacred. The internet can feel so transactional, a place where good ideas are consumed in three seconds and tossed into the dumpster of the ether.

When I originally posted this series on Instagram two years ago, the app was going especially hard on c3ns0rsh1p. One photo in the carousel featured implied nudity, just the suggestion of a breast. Because of the puritanical climate in this country, where we’re still afraid of women’s bodies, I received a warning: if I didn’t delete the post, my profile would no longer be recommended to others. Since Instagram is a key driver of my business, I took it down.

I’m only now revisiting this series, taken by my dear friend @madelinlens near a special rural spot in Minnesota.

Things I remember about that day:We drove by the lake, and Madeline turned to me and said, “That gives me a shoot idea. Would you model for me?” I don’t think she had touched her camera in months.

We were already on our way thrifting, but now we were on the hunt for a soft romantic dress to match the lake. As if the thrifting gods were hearing our prayers, we found a soft slip and a wedding veil at the Salvation Army.

Two hours later, I walked into the lake. I instantly found the tiniest leech on my skin and refused to go in any further than my knees. I know this disrupted the vision she had in her head, but apparently that’s a boundary I didn’t know I had. Leeches, or even the possibility of them. Regardless I know what we made has a soul. 

Just three days ago, Madeline and I spent hours on the phone. It made me yearn to spend time with her, though we’re separated by 3,000 miles and two time zones. With recent shifts in my lifestyle and budget, I don’t know when I’ll see her again. But it’s nice to hear the timbre of her voice.

Reminiscing on this shoot made me both love and hate Instagram. Without it, I wouldn’t have met Madeline. But with the direction it’s taken with AI and censorship, my artistic voice sometimes feels redirected, my soul contained. I feel fated to create art with more subtlety, but I won’t stop making art. I’ll just have to work a little harder.

Enjoy these indie sleaze film photos. To you, they might just look like thirst traps with film grain. To me, they’re memories.