#self portraiture
Self-Portrait
This is the closest thing to letting anyone know what I actually look like
Panic in the pandemic (2021)
While I started out by popping to my room to take a few snaps to mark this one year in time, it resulted in a photoshoot that lasted a couple of hours. It was good. In a way I inspired myself (as much as that word makes me cringe).
It began with me hating every photo. I realized I was trying to over-pose. That is, pose how I instructed countless beginner models to pose over the 12 years I was an {intensely busy} professional photographer and worked with so many women who had never modelled before (or modelled very little). That’s when I realized: my body is disabled. It isn’t a normal body and the techniques I taught to (often very young), fit, toned, even muscular models would just not work for this disabled body. It does not bend the same (or over bends in the wrong places), the skin drapes in ‘ugly’ ways, I am covered in wrinkles and stretchmarks, my intestines sag out due to lax abdominal muscles, my limb tissue spreads out in 'ugly’ ways for the same reasons, I am too skinny in some areas, and 'flabby’ in others.
The negative inner voice started wondering loudly if it’s even possible to tone a body with muscle, nervous system and organ failure. It told me how awful the photos were looking; how they were all photos I wouldn’t even show models of themselves were I solely behind the camera again. And that’s when I realized: what do I 'preach’ every single day on Twitter? That disabled bodies are real and numerous, that they deserve the same love and respect as any other bodies (maybe even more) and that disabled bodies are attached to people. And so I embraced it.
I changed things up. I changed my underwear, I removed my clothes. I scrunched myself up and twisted myself about, moved the camera around and took photos of this disabled body and saw the person spilling out from the wrinkly seams. I am this person. (Look at those cheeky little toes (; ).
{please don’t remove my words}
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It’s been a year since the surgery to place this feeding tube. To the day. Originally there were promises of it alleviating symptoms but it quickly became clear, that in reality, this thing is just saving my life.
I’ve had no end of troubles with it since the very day it went in. Many of my problems with it have been atypical or rare; my experienced GI team having never even heard of them. Too numerous to list, and too complicated to explain with words alone.
At first this tube frustrated me so much it triggered some of the worst meltdowns of my life. Then there was the depression because of the lingering pain that should have disappeared when it healed. The anxiety of how this thing made my body look and how uncomfortable it was. Now it’s just there. It still causes pain, it still gets in the way. I still catch people staring. My body is still not a ‘normal’ one but then it never has been, so what is a tube and what is a stoma to such reality?
The things I live with every day with this thing 99% of people couldn’t comprehend. But now, it’s just me. A year isn’t a very long time in a life time and a year is even less time in the great big picture that is humanity. Still, in such a short time, it became part of me. 40 years ago I would have died from starvation. Now I can not only survive, I don’t even have to do it in a hospital.
At first, having a tube coming from a hole in my actual organs seemed barbaric (as does much of modern medicine). ‘Surely, we are more advanced than this?’, I thought. But, no, no we are not. Medicine is barbaric; it may always be that way. 40 years ago I would have died from starvation and now this is mynormal.
{please don’t remove my words}
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we were drawing selfquisitors over on twitter so here’s me
except, you know, sans the thick pelt
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“slave to my madness”
self portrait, 2018
After much much thought and consideration…and numerous pro & con lists, I’ve decided to get my colombian visa.
I had my first consolation yesterday and it’s actually going to be fairly easy to obtain, just a bit pricy.
SO I am doing a special sale to help cover my Visa Fees!
Treat yourself to 25% percent off all sale items, including all postcards, original polaroids and zines!
Use coupon code VISAPLEASE at checkout
www.shelbiedimond.bigcartel.com/category/sale
I also wanted to update you all on shipping services and prices. After the shipping fiasco I decided to use my private courier service for all items with a value of $30 or more, and items of lesser value will be shipped via the Colombian postal service. If you wish to add extra insurance please contact me prior to your order.
NSFW content, modeling archive, BTS, videos and MORE: www.patreon.com/shelbiedimond
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Władysław Podkowiński (1866-1895) was a Polish master painter and illustrator. He died in Warsaw at the very early age of 28 due to tuberculosis.
Self Portrait , 1892.
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