Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Erotic Allure Of The American West
We had lived about two houses from the fair grounds when I was in high school. One morning while the fair was in town, I was up before everyone else and wandered down to the fair grounds. I happened upon watching a young cowboy who had spent the night with his horse in an old powder blue Chevy pickup truck, not in very good shape. He had slept in the back of his truck on a bedroll and was just getting up. I watched him pull on his tattered Wranglers over his boxer briefs and pull his boots on without adjusting the pant legs. He hopped out of the truck shirtless and wandered over to the nearby horse watering trough, the morning mist rising off it’s surface, and doused his head and began to wash up his upper body splashing the cold water across his beautiful skin. I stood and watched, spellbound by the remarkable moment; he was completely unaware I was watching. It was in that moment I felt a passion born as I felt my own sexuality awaken. I wished so deeply with all my heart I could somehow preserve this moment for an eternity but know it could only be relived in my mind. I have never told this story, in fact, have not thought of it in years, but I know this was moment I would want to reclaim somehow in my life. I now recognize and actually see this moment in so many of my images and is the basis of everything I do. I now realize that I have spent a lifetime trying to capture this essence of this one elusive moment. Sometimes the things we discredit the most about ourselves become the core of our existence.
Today is dedicated to Kate, and she is probably going to kill me for making a big deal of this. But it was her contribution that helped putting me over the edge. One of the few people in Mineral County who has followed me from the beginning. It was good to see you back in the old hometown. Thanks for your constant support.
VIEW FULL IMAGE: James #155