Lustration.

WHITE MEDALLION

Fri, 30 Jun 2006 20:49:10 GMT

NEW WORK

Fri, 12 May 2006 01:15:18 GMT

A FUTURE IN ADVERTISING

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 22:51:25 GMT

ACTOR HEADSHOTS

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 16:42:02 GMT

More headshots and portfolio samples available upon request.

For more information contact wickedvow@gmail.com

OMEGA BY AKEEWAKEE

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 06:03:20 GMT

This is probably more or less what the finished catalog shot is going to look like. I have a bit more airbrushing and fine-tuning to do, but I think the silver on gray is a great way to go. Reflective objects are a pain in the ass to light, and this shot was ultimately only possible with the aid of the computer. The tricks I'm learning at Columbia College...

THE THIRD TIME WAS THE CHARM

Sun, 29 Jan 2006 02:23:20 GMT

Headshots for Rafael Torres, Jan 26, 2006. Those Who Wait: Portraits of Displaced College Students is available in the archives of this page.

THOSE WHO WAIT

Thu, 15 Dec 2005 18:06:35 GMT

Portraits of college students forced to relocate in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.

MERCY MERCY

Wed, 26 Oct 2005 07:38:25 GMT

CARLY RACHAL

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 23:47:55 GMT

PLEASE NOTE

Sun, 09 Oct 2005 03:48:40 GMT

Yesterday's nudes are now friends-only, as will be today's once I get them posted.

A MARKETING EXERCISE

Tue, 04 Oct 2005 02:32:05 GMT

RAFAEL TORRES

Sun, 25 Sep 2005 19:29:34 GMT

MORE 4x5 CHROMES

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 00:15:09 GMT

DIGITAL II FINAL PROJECT

Sun, 18 Sep 2005 05:33:12 GMT

BRIGHT EYES

Fri, 16 Sep 2005 20:34:53 GMT

ON MY LONG ABSENCE

Sat, 10 Sep 2005 02:10:57 GMT

4x5 CHROME

Fri, 20 May 2005 18:15:44 GMT

THE YOUNG ACTOR

Sat, 30 Apr 2005 20:50:12 GMT

MIDWEST-FERI, APRIL 2005 (PREVIEW)

Wed, 27 Apr 2005 03:12:27 GMT

A QUESTION OF HUE

Tue, 26 Apr 2005 03:47:14 GMT

LIGHTING ON-LOCATION

Fri, 22 Apr 2005 23:04:10 GMT

THE GOLDEN AFTERNOON

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 15:22:53 GMT

MONOCHROME CONVERSION

Tue, 22 Mar 2005 19:02:25 GMT

ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT

Fri, 04 Mar 2005 08:53:15 GMT

I came home tonight to dirty dishes thrown on my bed, t-shirts and tax forms ruined by smelling stains, because I'm gay and I don't work for his father; I don't vote Republican. I felt sorry for my RA ... her father is in town, and I interrupted their visit. I was impressed with how well she handled the situation, so mature for just another college student with such an undeserved burden, playing mommy for the dozens of us. It's too much for one person, really, even if that person were older, with less responsibility to begin with.

One roommate apologizes for another, and I feel like I might go to sleep tonight, throw my stained blanket on the floor and forget about it for one night. After all, I have class in the morning. He was standing in my doorway when we heard the first scream. It came from the room next door ... thin dorm room walls. Girls scream for a lot of reasons; most don't leave bruises.

A crash.

A woman screams.

My roommate's face fades. "She's probably just messing around." My pulse quickens. "No she's not." Together we bolt for the door, sprint down the hall, pound fists on cheap wood. "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! OPEN IT NOW!" And I'm happy, for a moment, to have him with me, for the simple reason that I'm a faggot, and they all know it, and I'm not going to save her alone. Then I remember that he too is a minority, and they don't listen to minorities.

He forces his way in, negotiates. I get the RA. For the second time tonight, I disturb her and feel guilty. She's black, female, five-foot-barely-something. She stands in the hall, and I can't blame her. She probably comes from a low-income family, and this is how she affords to live in the dorms. She didn't sign up for this. Neither did I, but I'm glad it was me, and not someone who could sleep through those screams. Not someone who will defend him, because he's their dealer, and they need him, like she needs him.

They lined up in the hall, after that. Who knows who called them; they knew to come, and they knew whose side to take. After all, he's their dealer, and they need him.

She comes out of the room, fresh makeup on her face, especially under her left eye. She apologizes. "Sorry I made such a ruckus." A chill runs through me, remembering what I heard through the wall, the last time they fought. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I'm sorry.

And the policeman said:
"I'm here to keep the peace.
Will the crowd disperse;
I think we all clould use some sleep."

"It kind of ... encourages vigilantism." The guard leans back in his chair, picks up his Big Gulp, and takes a slow sip through a neon green straw. "It sure does, son." I nod.

"Sweet dreams."

True story.

FOR HELENA

Wed, 02 Mar 2005 16:34:03 GMT