These are captures of victims who just happened to be in front of my lens when I had my camera. No, they are not voyeuristic for in each case the victim was fully aware of me and my camera, In that respect they are exhibitionistic Of all my Truths these are the most truthful, for it is life before the camera and the camera never lies...right? But if you look at each image, you will see the often arrogant and pleasured self-consciousness that accompanies the flirtatious, flattery of having a camera pointed at one. So, just how truthful are these images? If the camera never lies, can we be sure of the subject's veracity? I have thousands of captured moments of truth. What is required to end up here, is to have a moment worth sharing with you. All images (c) Conrad Lawrence
A woman enters the ocean late in the afternoon, to rinse off the sand clinging to her legs. Still, the truth and perhaps the innocence of the moment changes by who is standing nearby watching. Thus we change the truth of everyone else's moments
Res ipsa loqitur
A woman shedding her clothes at the beach tells no story, except for when she does it next to a boat. But the inferred eternalness of the story is clipped short when she returns almost immediately
The back story on this is that, she lay sanguine, reading, eying me; until I took my camera out of it's tote. Then she embarked on this short journey, proving once again, there can be no voyeur without an exhibitionist
The truth of being married
My wife was on the chaise beside me. She said "that woman is watching you." I lifted my camera off my lap and pointed the zoom lens at the woman, who instantly became animated by standing and pulling at her hair. My wife said, "amazing."
We all do it. I just acknowledge it with my camera.
"Honey," I say. "Yes?" She responds and responds again, my camera capturing the truth of her every response
Intrusive? Yes. Wanted or unwanted....hmmmmm?
She was "the foremost penis trainer in the US" (Physical therapist at Mayo clinic who helped paraplegics regain sexual function). At this moment she is contemplated whether to ever entertain my penis again. I had just told her that contemplating marriage was a bit premature for people who had known each other for 3 weeks. The frost on the windows indicates the mood. In the next moment she turns and says "I'm leaving now. Don't call me."
I dug this photo out of box of photos, a couple days after I learned of Marc's death. The poster of James Dean's introspective survey of Marc, speaks volumes of Marc's life and death
Do I know her name? No. Did I care if she was annoyed that I pointed my camera at her. No. She was getting off the train, 600 miles from where I lived and another 600 miles from where I was going. Besides, experience with camera's and women told me that she was flattered. Someone had taken the time to care at some level about whatever her experience was at the moment of leaving one journey to embark on another.
It was a short but, clearly a comfortable relationship, one not requiring a lot of clothing. She was 20 I was 32. What is one to expect.