Monday, 22 June 2009
Original found 80s amateur soft-core snapshots, off a market stall, South London.
Too much make-up. She mumbles as her hands twist slowly in her lap. She is Aways On Time and very directional. “and turn”. This is the shot. Ford Cortina, faux tan leather interior, radio chart rundown, sweat, grease, blood spots. She’s up on the balcony smiling down to you - then she is the 40 foot wide grin on a billboard, her glossy lips don’t complain and they won’t ask for a second helping. Always in the distance. “Yes, they looked at your portfolio” – not sure whether to put it straight in the bin or on the notice board for a laugh. Expectant eyes, his hands are her loving restraints, I’m crying in the night did I let you down again. There she is, laughing this time – a little bit older and who’s that in the background? “Can you keep your head still love, don’t smile like that it makes your eyes wrinkle” A moment of grotesque clarity that cannot be made sweet. Look at her arch upwards, a natural, big full breasts. He still thinks I’m a good girl. I am a good girl aren’t I? I want to grab her by the hair and pull her down, force her to take it. “Could you lift up your arm and toss back your hair”. I keep looking at her, someone else’s daughter and wondering if this is right. She’s asking if I can open the window, she’s not my problem, don’t want her number anyway she’s just a slag. It’s not right, its ok, she’s got potential.