Charis Brice: dancer, whiner, fisher, baller.

Tara and Jeff, Seattle [PHOTOS]

I love these two. Rarely have I seen a couple have so much FUN on and around their wedding day! The fun was not just the day or weekend of their wedding, but the entire week. They infused the days surrounding their wedding with life and food and dancing. Jeff and Tara are people that Tina Fey (and I) meet and say, "I want to go to there." They are strikingly beautiful people who love each other with a tangible solidity, who love to dance and who naturally invite the people around them to participate and dance with them to whatever music they currently have playing.

I felt on their wedding day that I had been teleported to New Orleans (please notice the JAZZ BAND that played LIVE and provided music and dancing parade-style from the ceremony site to the reception site!!); my smile did not fade for the entire day and night.

Tara and Jeff - I wish you all the best, and I am absolutely thrilled to have met you, to have participated in such an intimate event, and am absolutely determined to dance capoeira with you before I die... :)

Bisous.

(Venue: Skansonia in Seattle, WA)

Art I love: Ethan Murrow

Are you kidding me? (I seem to say)
No, I am not even kidding you. (replies the work of Ethan Murrow)

New goal in my life: to own an Ethan Murrow. His work is stunning, and his new series is pretty close to perfect - regardez!

Yelp me!

Website: Updated (and the crowd said "GEEZ, about time already!")

I am extremely excited about my website being updated. The Portraiture, Family and Etcetera sections are completely new.

Also, my age is no longer listed. I know a lot of you are disappointed about that, but never fear! I will periodically post details of my life on my blog, including my updated age. :)

Take a look, and let me know what you think!

TO VIEW MY UPDATED WEBSITE AND THEREBY HAVE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE, CLICK HERE.

Ryan Bingham

Every once in a long while the people I fall in love with are boosted into fame and fortune. No, I am not saying that my love has EVERYTHING to do with the way they take life by the horns and RIDE, but I do take every opportunity to sit back, smile arrogantly and say, "oh HER? Oh yeah, I have loved her for years... back when she was a NOBODY yo... back when she was on the STREET (I have watched over 35 hours of The Wire in the past week... work with me) I loved her... yeah I know she's the top dog SHIT now, yeah, I know I know... but I have loved her since she was in DIAPERS man, and to me, she will always be..." ,

you get the picture. This, most def, is extremely obnoxious to everyone around me, but as usual, this is really not my primary concern in life - in fact it rarely makes the grid.

Rafael Nadal is a primary example of this phenomenon. (at this point 79 percent of my friends all sigh, bored, and Karen gets super excited, even though I heard THROUGH THE GRAPE VINE that she is reading a book about FEDERER! BLASPHEMY) I began to love AND lust after him (Collin, don't tell Dad!), long before the press and the world believed he could do more than crank out a few winners on clay. I begged to differ. And now anytime Nadal wins (which, I might add, is INCREDIBLY often) I stand up from wherever I am, and I bow.

The reason for this current tirade of endless obnoxious banter? Ryan Bingham. I found him all alone, because I am brilliant. (Josh, are you mad yet?) No, that is a lie. The truth: a few years ago when I was quite raw and lost from my life's trajectory taking a total and complete change WITHOUT my full and written permission, and after humiliating myself with my best friend (truly, any lesser of a friend would now be called "that guy I once knew"), I was in the passenger seat of a very old, very huge Ford F-950 (yeah, I know) driving home from flyfishing with said friend (Josh) somewhere in Idaho, and the song "Sunrise" came on by Ryan. I can't say for sure, but I am pretty sure that my will to live came back just a little bit from hearing that song. It is a perfect song, no other way to say it.

My friend Stef and I call it "the orgasm song". Nuff said.

Stef caught the Bingham bug easily, and I saw Ryan Bingham perform at the Tractor with her a few years ago. I am not exaggerating when I say that the entire band was laughing at us, in a good way (no, really).
When they started playing Sunrise, Stef and I went buck wild crazy. We were a hair away from crawling onto the stage and losing a lot more than our pride. I felt like I was living the stories I hear about women (and men) who saw Elvis perform. I had already been contemplating the easiest way to remove my clothes, and this contemplation proved very fitting. I have never in my life seen a performer who exuded so much sex using only his voice.

But then again, maybe that is because my heart really will always be most completely melted by a cowboy. (Just last night I made a joke that no one understood, with me howling "SHANE") And lord, this man is a cowboy. His voice is smokier than any I have ever heard, and he SMOKED ON STAGE, and his songs and respect for the greats (he frequently ends his set with a Townes cover) all make me start thinking again about the best way to remove my clothing.

I adore Ryan. And in the past few years, since I heard my first Ryan Bingham song in a truck after fishing in Idaho, and after seeing him in a tiny, tiny club with my friend Stef (and, funny story, I told a woman who turned out to be Ryan's wife at the merch table after the show that he was incredibly hot... I should have known it was his wife from my friends John and Steven who travelled in a band for years, but ya know, I gotta learn the hard way... I would like to say that I put my shirt back on when I heard her say she was married to him) Ryan has become quite famous.

What am I (and Stef, of course) doing on Friday night? Ryan Bingham, baby.

If you have never heard his music, start with the album, Mescalito. It is one of my all time favorite albums.

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Samples...

here.

Hooray!

Yesterday's Boudoir Photography sessions were fantastic! I could not have asked for more beautiful, fun women than these four. The day was overcast, giving a wonderful diffused light to the studio space that is my apartment. I spent my day editing today, as I was too excited to let the photographs sit still for even 24 hours. I could not be happier with the result! Once again the beauty of women, the beauty of their form and also of their risk in owning their form, takes my breath away and makes me damn proud to be female.

Samples to come.

But for now, here is a picture of the sky from my window, just before sunset tonight.

Ever since the sun went down the wind has been blowing and howling with such persistent fierceness that I feel a shade terrified sitting here on my couch by the window... What is the old saying, "If see ye light rays when the sun be's nigh on sleeping, the night's angry wind will send to your death ye creeping." ? I think that's right.

I will let you know tomorrow if I made it through the night.

Boudoir: (Tomorrow, February 5th)

I am so excited! Click here to view a sample from Kat's session... and call me if you want to get in on the action tomorrow, I have one slot still open. It is truly the best Valentine's Day gift, EVER.

206.235.7415

2010: My Year

I spent the first three months of 2010 in Europe. I went because I had to, but I really only went because of the staggering rubber band of generosity that surrounded me and SHOT me across the ocean. I am forever grateful.

I wrote for weeks while I was in Europe, and felt myself open up as the words poured out, creating forms and stories. A book was born during those months. It was a long, tendious birth, and it had a weirdly shaped head, but it was born nonetheless.

I had agonizingly awkward interactions with a beautiful man’s family in France – I knew very, very little French. At the dinner table with boy, boy's Mom and boy's Dad, boy's Dad said to me (his English was excellent), "How was it riding that little fucker?" I gulped, swallowed my food, and said "Pardon?" He repeated very slowly, "How, was, it, riding, that, little, fucker?" This happened twice more, boy was by this point crying with silent laughter, and when I saw his tears of mirth I joined him in hysterical, nervous laughter. Turns out a small plane is called a "focker" over there. The French pronunciation is, "fucker." Boy's Mom caught on, and began to call boy "Fucker, fucker" over and over. When the joke finally dissipated a few minutes later, boy's Dad asked, to clear the air, "Did they let you bring your bags in that little fucker?"

I went to museums in Paris and in Nice and in London and saw an entire exhibit of female artists in Paris and cried in the middle of the gallery I was so moved and empowered.

I felt powerful and comfortable in my body and went running in strange neighborhoods where I was delightfully and immediately lost.

I took photographs that said exactly what I needed to say. And then I took more.

I made more frequent and mind-blowing love than I had previously thought was physically possible.

I played with blind and seeing cats and found my second home (including parents) outside of London. I gained 15 pounds from adopted-mother’s cooking.

Every week abroad I opened a letter from my friend Meghan. She wrote me one for each week I was away. Meghan is my heart, and having a little piece of her with me (and gchatting with her on a daily basis) centered me in my strange world that was 8 hours ahead of Seattle. I always feel more myself when I have encountered Meghan. I am desperately grateful to have had her in my life this year, all year, every day.

I watched a beautiful man smoke in his underwear every night before bed by an open window, lit only by the light streaming in from the street lamp outside. It will forever be a scene of perfection in my memory.

I missed my family. I missed Seattle.

I played Texas Hold’em with four french men who spoke no English and I hustled them.

I smoked in Amsterdam and the red light district made me sad.

I smoked in a bar (yay) while watching the best jazz of my life in Madrid.

I went dancing in Paris and sat in 50 different cafés.

I felt crazy jealous of my man.

I fell undeniably in love.

I came back to Seattle in April. It was so good to be home, and I missed France and my man deeply.

I ran every day to avoid depression, or maybe to lessen it. I studied French fervently, demanding that my brain listen to my commands. CONJUGATE, BITCH.
Bitch I’m the boss.

I wanted to run to France and kiss the man I had left there (and touch him and sleep beside him and tickle him and make him laugh).
But I couldn’t. So I took dozens of sexy photographs of myself for him.

I liked them. So did he.

I photographed a thousand weddings in the summer and fall and I took the best photographs of my life. I had the most fantastic clients I could have hoped for – beautiful, unique couples who love life and love each other. They gave me courage again and again to jump, trip, fall into love. I have the best job in the world.

I had happy hour every Thursday night with Sarah, my precious friend. She is a deeply lovely woman, wife, mother, friend and dancer. Having rituals I can count on is one thing that centered my soul this year – I am so deeply grateful for this ritual and for the ways we both sacrificed to make it a reality every week. Here’s to offending multiple waiters from being too fiesty. Bitch club: go.

I skyped for days. I hate skype.

I began shooting boudoir photography, inspired by my ache to be close to the man I loved and by the photography I saw in France.

I went to France again. Sexy photographs only go so far.

I lay naked in the smothering, magnificent heat of the French riviera hotel room, and I lay topless on the beach on the mediteranean. I put clothes on for dinner.

I had the most romantic night of my life during a long drive from the south of France back to Paris.

I was tired and cranky, and was beginning to long for a hotel room. We were beyond delirious from driving so far, and although we had planned to sleep outdoors, finding a perfect spot off the road had proved more difficult than first imagined.
He already knew me well, and so he nodded when I mentioned a hotel room, and then said, “But just imagine for a minute… a blanket, all alone in a field, the stars, cheese, wine… me… (he smiled and paused here, the bastard knew my weakness) just imagine it for a minute.”
We found a spot and laid down in the mild, summer weather – Bastille Day – we ate cheese – we drank wine –we smoked – we laughed - the sun set around us. The stars came out and fireworks began all around us in the distance in celebration of freedom. I climbed on top of him and with cowbells and fireworks in the distance I kissed him with every part of my body.

I will tell this story to my grandchildren some day.

It was the most romantic night of my life.

This photo was taken just after we got out of the car.

I had four photographs featured in a group show at Winston Wachter Fine Art Gallery. My friends and my Mom came to the opening. I was proud. My Mom and I later went wildflower hunting - I will remember the tangible comfort of her presence in my acute loneliness of that time until I die. She saved me, c'est sûr. I will also remember the crazy look in her eye as she stalked wildflowers - it was primal.
I am grateful to my Mom for telling me that if I did not go to France for three months it was only because I was afraid. She was right. I love her for encouraging me to jump, when her most natural desire is for me to be safe.

My Mom taught me to crochet during this visit. Her Grandmother taught her, and learning from her was a gift.

I watched football on Sunday nights with Nikki at Sully's for much of the year, and missed her terribly when I was in Europe. I can count on her love for me as one of the most sure things in my life, her loyalty is non-negotiable and solid - she is like a bulldog with jaws of love. I love her dearly.

I got to see my little brother sing this year. He is full of life, passion and talent, and is funny as hell. I hope I am like him one day. He was a light in my life this year and I am so proud of him I could burst.

I danced countless nights away in my apartment. I danced those nights until I was exhausted, usually to the same song on repeat. If my neighbors do not hate me they are deaf.

A few songs that will forever encompass 2010 to me and to my neighbors:

Happy Up Here by Röyksopp

Carry Out by Timbaland

Fireflies by Owl City

So Bad by Eminem

Paradise Circus by Massive Attack

Rain and Snow by The Be Good Tanyas

It Don’t Come Easy by Bettye LaVette

Gotta Have You by The Weepies

Steady Mobbin by Young Money and Gucci Mane

I Need A Dollar by Aloe Blacc

Ridin’ Solo by Jason Derulo

Hard Worn Trail by Ryan Bingham

Breathe by Ella Edmondson

I Like You Better by Frazey Ford

Ball and Chain by Lindsay Fuller

I Don’t Want To Waste Your Time by Fistful of Mercy

Every song ever written by Tracy Chapman

I smoked with my brother on the roof. It’s about time. Also, my brother’s arms really are huge; it is amazing. His laugh is my favorite in the world, and I am proud as hell of him for what he has been through and what he has accomplished this year. He is a fighter. AND a lover.

I took the most magical photographs of my family, the whole family, all together. I looked at these photographs nearly every day.

I was inspired by the creativity of my sister - it overflows onto her body and house and friends. She gives it the reigns and lets it take her away. I was surprised and delighted by her zest for life and her love for me this year.

I attended the Toronto International Film Festival in September and saw 28 films in 8 days with my friend Larry. He describes TIFF as his “church” every year, and I understand why. He understood when I needed to watch Rafael Nadal one night instead of watching films… VAMOS RAFA. This year was my second year to attend TIFF, and there really is something deeply nourishing about viewing that many films in so little time. My soul opens up wider during those days than I ever thought possible. Film has a way of opening me up that nothing else does. I ate delicious sushi and drank obscene amounts of bubble gum flavored vodka from my flask, and it was good. I love how the audience at TIFF knows to yell “ARRRRRRRRRR” like a pirate at the beginning of the films when the anti-piracy ad comes on the screen.

The films that I loved that come to my mind now are Biutiful with Javier Bardem – my heart literally hurts when I remember this one. And Black Swan – because it is a brilliant mind fuck and Natalie is fantatic.

Also, Robert De Niro returned my wave and laughed at my antics. True story.

Arnaud moved to Seattle in September. Being with him is home, regardless of the continent.

My life opened up and welcomed him in a way that I have never before experienced. I am more in love with him every day. Deep breath.

I cooked so often this year. The kitchen was always dirty, in a “lived in” sort of way.

Arnaud grew a beard and I named it Stanley and I had an affair with him for the full month of December.

I saw Aloe Blacc and Fistful of Mercy and Frazey Ford in concert.

I ran a 5k with my Dad, and stopped several times during my run to wait for him. I felt so sorry for him and wanted to encourage him to try to finish (I imagined him unable to finish, having just had a knee surgery). At the finish line he was waiting for me, having beaten my time by a 5 full minutes and come in 1^st in his division. We both got medals that day, though they called me, ‘Chains Brice’. I love my Dad and the long legs and love for running he gave to me. AND the fact that he dominates.

In November I visited my college roomie Adelaide in North Carolina. Seeing her was such a sweet reminder of the ways I have always been me, and the reality that some people are simply lifelong friends, regardless of the ways life gets weird: two reminders I desperately needed. Plus she is badass, hilarious and gorgeous and I thoroughly enjoyed her company.

I had many glasses of wine and movie nights and meals with my friend Heather, and her hugs continued to wipe away any pretense I might have tried to have had, and left me just Charis. I was reminded this year that I will fight and sacrifice for her friendship, I need her desperately.

One day this year Arnaud saw I was feeling down, unable to connect or be present. “You are not here.” He told me. I agreed. He continued, “You are about 40 stories below, yes?” Again, I agreed. “Do you want that I send down the elevator?” He asked. Eyes filling, I smiled and answered, “Oui.”
I love this man who extends a hand to me when I need it, and asks that I also extend mine in response.

I played way too much Words With Friends, and finally beat Obiyeye (holler).

I fell in love with John and Joani, and Cordelia. The J's are precious to me, and John's Arnaud voice makes me laugh every time.

I finally went to the ballet, after approximately 8 years of avoidance. Yes, I cried. It was absolutely mezmerizing.

I had happy hour wine at Bricco approximately four hundred thousand times. I am determined to be friends with Fernando.

I had to apologize about a thousand, million times this year. I can be a real bitch, but goddamn it, I can apologize.

This year I decided to grow my hair long like a mermaid until it covers my breasts.

I spent a week before Christmas in San Francisco with Arnaud, exploring and eating and apologizing and just generally making out. One night in the North Beach area we stumbled upon a happy hour that included cheap ass food and drink, and then we stumbled into a free blues show featuring Alphabet Soup and an amazing saxaphone player… the show was so good I wanted to cry, so I danced. Something about this moment was perfect – something being everything.

I saw a Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit at the San Francisco MOMA, and was literally rendered speechless. His body of work is why I am a photographer – the deeply beautiful chaos of people colliding with each other, their world and my camera.

This year I acquired a Nespresso machine with the magical milk foamer, and the daily joy it brings me cannot be expressed in words.

I read 26 books this year.

I played hours of Président with Arnaud, and subsequently with others. Cheers to Brian being Président last week. I love my friend Brian, and not just because he beat Arnaud. He is a good man, and he and Sarah are an example to me of a good love.

I did not see Over the Rhine for about the 6^th year in a row at Thanksgiving.

I photographed my cousins’s wedding in Dallas, Texas and saw all of my cousins, my entire family, Josh, Jason, Sunny and some huge cows in just 3 days. I almost spontaneously combusted from seeing so many people so close to my heart in so little time. I swam in frigid waters of a should-have-been-closed swimming pool (holler Josh), and still get calls from a crazy drunk named Cynthia that my sister offered my "services" to (holler Calen). I started crying in front of nearly my entire family because the woman working the desk at Best Western was a bitch to me. Her name was Lori, and I hope she dies.

I spent hundreds of hours looking at Seattle from my apartment. I loved my home every minute this year.

I successfully avoided playing the violin in front of Arnaud.

I hosted approximately 15 parties, several making the category of "epic."

I fell in love with Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French (thank you Joani). Clatterford makes me happy every, single, time. I am so glad they have a repertoire I can continue to discover.

I had a Christmas tree for the first time in years, because a sweet man carried it on his back in lieu of having a car. It was truly a Christmas miracle.

This year I laughed more than I cried.
I spent more time on planes than I ever imagined.
I danced in five countries with the man I love.
I was creative.
I was really, really nervous, a new emotion for me.
I lost friends and missed friends and made friends and loved friends.
I learned a new langauge.
I loved myself more than I hated myself (still just barely, high five body issues).

Today, at the beginning of a new year, I am left filled to the brim from the last. I am grateful, I am grateful, I am grateful.

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Seattle.spaceneedle →PHOTO←

Alli and Josh, Seattle.→PHOTO←

Oh là là là là.

Click here to view a sampling from this precious couple.

I teared up about a thousand times during the editing of these photographs - see if you can tell why... hint: what emotion do you think Josh and Alli were feeling on their wedding day? :)

Amber and Danny, Seattle→PHOTO←

Congrats you two! May you enjoy life tremendously together!
Many huge thanks to Joe West for being my second shooter on this wedding!

Chloë and Blair, Whidbey Island →PHOTO←

Isabelle and Jeremy, Seattle, Washington

Colette and Jared, Seattle →PHOTO←

Colette and Jared are both artists. Their creativity covers a wide range of mediums including textiles, fashion and photography. (I should also mention that it was them to first introduced me to Gilt.com... I blame them entirely for my problem). They were a blast to work with, and their wedding screamed, "MARTHA STEWART,' on every level. For a full year Colette and Jared worked on making the flowers for their wedding... out of paper. Every place that traditionally would hold a flower was instead a flower handmade from paper. The result was stunning and unique - and my reaction continued to be, "HOW did they DO THIS??" throughout the day. Colette and Jared were married on family property, and as you will see, their paper-flower filled garden wedding was exactly as they envisioned - perfect.
Other favorite things:
+Colette did the hair of everyone in her wedding party - including her grandmother, mother and mother-in-law... are you kidding me?? She is amazing.
+Colette and Jared each bought very sexy, high-end sunglasses for their wedding day - these glasses were a vital part of their attire, and added a flair that made me incredibly happy.
+At one point when things got stressful and Colette felt a wave of stress, she looked at her Mom with her eyes threatening tears and said, "I want JARED." I started crying immediately.

Colette and Jared I love the way you love each other. I was honored to have a place in your beautiful, creative celebration.

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/illusionist

TIFF 2010: The second nine (or thirteen) films

Sunday, 2 :30pm

The Illusionist or L'illusionniste (France) 4
By Sylvain Chomet

This animated film does not follow any of the normal rules for ‘cartoon.’ Very French, understated, both funny and sad – like a slow descending scale that stops one note shy of the tonic note. I liked it alot.

Sunday, 6pm

127 Hours (USA) 4
By Danny Boyle
Starring: James Franco

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/127hours

True story. You heard about it a few years ago. Guy goes hiking in Colorado and doesn’t tell anyone where he is going. Falls and gets his arm lodged between a huge rock and the wall of a crevasse. For 3 days he survives and tries to get free to no avail… until finally, yes, you remember, he cuts off his own arm before walking miles to safety, at which point he was suffering from horrible dehydration and shock.
James Franco plays the dude in the film, and the original dude was actually present at this world premier… he had his family there, and his hook hand… and it was all magnificent.

Fantastic film. You will be on the edge of your seat and needing a piece of wood to bite, guaranteed. The director of the film is Danny Boyle – bringing us the okayish film a few years ago, Slumdog Millionaire (if by okayish you mean best film in the history of the world). So obviously, this one is good. Danny is good. James Franco is good (and ya know, I now know them both). Watch it. It reminds me of Into the Wild, only it doesn’t make me want to kill myself.

Sunday, 9pm
Hereafter (United Kingdom) 5
By Clint Eastwood, Steven Speilberg
Starring: Matt Damon, Cécile De France

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/hereafter

Wowsers. I love this movie, and it was one of the films that felt special to attend as a world premiere. It is eerie, heartwarming, apocalyptic and beautifully executed. It is rare (especially while at the festival, maybe because I am seeing SO many films and therefore am more critical) that a film with this many story lines delivers exactly as it should. The three story lines (and three countries - about half the film is in French) move me equally, and I felt a bit like squealing with delight to see how they all collided in the end. Beautiful, hopeful film. Clint Eastwood is a BRILLIANT storyteller, and in his newest film he focuses on the tension between and complimentary nature of life and death. It is also the first film in which Eastwood has used computer generated special effects - I would say he NAILED THEM. I bow before him and his talent. Also of note, he looked fantastic at the festival. I am expecting a good 3-4 more films from the beast.

Sunday, 11 :59pm
Vanishing on 7th Street (USA) 1
By Brad Anderson
Starring: Hayden Christensen, Thandie Newton, John Leguizamo

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/vanishingon7thstreet

Some of the worst acting I saw at the festival. Hayden Christiensen is absolutely painful to watch (there is just no other way to say it), and Thandie Newton's emotional flailing seemed heartfelt but is ultimately totally misplaced because of the atrocious writing... all in all it was horrible. Strangely entertaining if you want a film that misses the beat for over an hour. Cool premise: everyone disappears (their bodies evaporate) except for a few who are, we gather as we watch the film, protected by light - the sun goes out - you feel the impending darkness-monster trying to eat everyone... AND the last scene includes a black boy and a white girl riding out of the rubble of New York on a horse. Yeah, I did not just make that up.

Monday, 11am

Never Let Me Go (United Kingdom) 5
By Mark Romanek
Novel : Kazuo Ishiguro
Starring Casey Mulligan, Keira Knightley, Andrew Garfield

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/neverletmego

Those of you who have read the novel Never Let Me Go by Japanese novelist Kazuo Ishiguro will understand how excited I was to see this film. I adore the novel, and have bribed many friends to read it using chocolate and sex. The film did not disappoint (which it very easily could have done), in fact it is one of my favorite film renditions of a book I have loved. I think one reason I loved the film is that it not only follows the plotline of the book, but gives the audience the same FEELING the book inspires. I could remember the book in my body while I was watching this film (what a book can do in words a film often does in music and lighting… perfectly exemplified in this film) – and again, without giving anything away, I am a huge fan of the story. (IT’S SO CRAZY GOOD). And HOW amazing is Casey Mulligan ?? She is absolutely the next big thing.

Good grief, these three characters BREAK my HEART. Incredible film : another one I can’t wait to watch again.

Monday, 2 :30pm
The Whistleblower (Canada, Germany) 4
By Larysa Kondracki
Starring: Rachel Weisz

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/whistleblower

This is the hardest film for me to write about. The Whistleblower is the true story of Kathryn Bolkovac, a policeman (played brilliantly by Rachel Weisz) from Nebraska who outed the U.N. for their illegal participation in the highly lucrative trafficking industry. The film is the best depiction of the violence and hideous evil of the trafficking industry that I have seen, and makes you feel the helplessness of fighting against a system of evil so engrained and protected that you yourself are probably unwittingly supporting it. I was all out weeping for the majority of the movie. I respect director Larysa Kondracki for not only tearing at the heart and intellect of her audience, but for also forcing her audience to feel that the issue is physical. Skin is torn, bodies and vagina’s are mutilated and human lives are snuffed out by the thousands. Not to mention the level of destruction to the soul. I felt the actual physicality of this issue so much during the film that when the film ended I could not speak for hours. When I remember the film now it is not my heart that ultimately hurts, but my sex.

Monday, 4 :30pm
Everything Must Go (USA) 1
By Dan Rush
Starring Will Ferrell

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/everythingmustgo

I can say with certainty that this was the most disappointing film I saw at the festival. I was excited to see Will Ferrell, and to see him in a more dark, indie role than he typically plays. Big, big fail. This film is as poorly written as an after school special, and as poorly acted as my self-produced play about Harriett Tubman that I wrote when I was 10. Yes, I of course played the lead role of Harriett, thanks for asking. The final act included me crossing a literal white line on the ground and throwing my arms into the air, triumphant with my new found freedom. I hoped my audience of neighbors finally understood what it was like to be a slave.

Everything Must Go is terrible, and all the more tragic because it had potential (she imagined, as she tried to say something kind). Some movies grow on you as the time between you expands, ya know, like some boyfriends – this one has only more definitively confirmed its uselessness.

Tuesday, 11am
Black Swan (USA) 5+
By Darren Aronofsky
Starring Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, Wynona Ryder

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/blackswan

When I say this film is perfect, I am not exaggerating. It will win every award when that time of year arrives (perfectly timed in this regard, as it will be released on December 1st). Do not imagine that I only speak my high praise because I was swept away (I was) in the themes of professional ballet and by the raw talent and dazzling beauty of Vincent Cassel (dear god), Natalie Portman (dear god) and Wynona Ryder (dear god). This film is not only dazzling, it is a narrative genius. I was moved with the film’s artistry in every scene, and my blood ran cold not for seconds but for HOURS. I could predict nothing, nor did I want to – Darren Aronofsky (brilliantly) creates a story so dazzling and perfectly timed that you are carried away to a place of terror and jaw breaking beauty without worrying about how you got there or what you will do once you arrive. I had full body chills for most of the film, chills that remained throughout the credits, exit and post-film walk down the street… okay, I still have them. Perfect film.

Tuesday, 2 :30pm
Barney’s Version (Canada, Italy) 5
By Richard J. Lewis
Novel by Mordecai Richler
Starring Paul Giamatti, Rosamund Pike, Dustin Hoffman, Minnie Driver

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/barneysversion

Sitting in the theatre for this film was the first I had heard of Barney’s Version or of Mordechai Richler, the Canadian author of the novel on which the film is based. The novel is described as one of ‘Canada’s most beloved.’ After seeing the film, I understand why (and also purchased the book from amazon… WAAZZZZUPPPPP LITERACY). Paul Giamatti is a fucking genius, and turns out he is also Barney Panofsky… I cannot imagine another actor fitting this role more perfectly. The story is impossibly sweet and undeniably sad – there were scenes of each that touched me so deeply it was hard not to sob. After seeing the film I love Barney like a real person I have known for years. Dustin Hoffman, Rosamund Pike and Minnie Driver are fantastic in their own right – the chemistry between Paul and Dustin (son and father) is as touching as it is funny. Fanastic film. I can’t wait for my book to arrive so I can spend more time with Barney.

Tuesday, 6pm
Special Treatment (France) 2
Starring : Isabelle Huppert

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/specialtreatment

Meh. Isabelle Huppert is always perfect, so there’s that. I could catch about 30 times when the dialogue did not match the subtitles (therefore a lot of humor and clever double entendre was missed by this girl... and by the mostly English speaking audience at the festival), and if I could detect differences then I wonder how much of the film’s brain I missed. Sometimes the subtitles do not matter, and I often forget if a film had them or not – but this film’s brilliance (if there was indeed brilliance... maybe it just sucked) was in it’s comparison of a prostitute and a therapist (yeah I know, AMAZING right ?) and in the dialogue between them, not in thoughtful or creative filming or in music. I thought the emotion of the film and the relationships between characters felt forced and, as film critics say, contrived. Meh. Worth watching just to see Isabelle act, and in her different costumes throughout the film - oh là là là.

Tuesday, 9pm
Buried (USA) 0
By Rodrigo Cortés (stupid head)
Starring : Ryan Reynolds (idiot)

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/buried

Dear god give me strength to write about this poor excuse of a movie without developing a hernia. Worst. Movie. Ever.

First of all, how terrifying does the premise sound : A man has been buried alive.

BAM, instantly I am afraid – Hello Poe, hello every scary dream, hello worst fears of most breathing people – fears of claustrophobia, death, suffocation, etc… they all kick in full force in hearing the plot. Now, add terrorists, snakes, bugs and bombs to the mix – terrifying right ? I thought it sounded amazingly good. But not a single moment, not ONE SINGLE MOMENT of this film did I feel the LEAST bit afraid, except at how stupid Ryan Reynolds was. Major, major fail. The acting was terrible (fuck yourself Ryan Reynolds, you cutie pie you), and the editing was so bad that my friend and I had a blast listing out all the things that did not work after we left. For instance (this is seriously one example of hundreds), for most of the film Ryan is trying to find out what the number to the Iraqi cell phone is that he finds in his box (yeah, it’s that bad)… up until this point when he makes calls from the phone the number is blocked. FINALLY he figures out how to fucking change the language on his Blackberry (a phone that keeps changing throughout the difference scenes… in one scene it is a flip phone, then magically changes back to a Blackberry… HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PROP GUY ????) and discovers the number… he writes it down on the top of his coffin… and what do you know, immediately, people start calling him back… people that had no way of contacting him because NO ONE FUCKING KNEW THE NUMBER ????????????

I guess we are just supposed to assume that some time during the past continuous 3 minutes of shooting there was a secret phone call he sent out to everyone he had been talking to giving them the number he had just discovered ?? This might sound nit-picky, but seriously, if the ONLY thing in the entire movie, the SOLE ACTION and sole connector to the outside world, to potential help (because it isnt about him getting out himself… that would have been way more fun) is about a fucking cell phone, then my GOD could you get the deets about the cell phone right ?? It is like seeing the main character’s hair change from blond to black during a single conversation… it DOESN’T WORK.

This was the only film I walked out on. I watched literally as much as I could bear. I desperately wanted him to die, and the whole POINT of the film was to want him to live. Fail McFailerton. Terrible excuse of a film. The whole team should be ashamed, and I honestly do not think Ryan Reynolds could watch it (he was there) without feeling profound embarrassment. Fail.

Wednesday, 11am
The Debt, (United Kingdom) 4
By John Madden
Starring: Helen MIrren, Jessica Chastain and Sam Worthington

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/debt

Wohouuuu, as the French say. AMAZING. Beautifully filmed, suspenseful as hell and highly entertaining. Mystery, spies, sex, Nazi doctors and force feeding. This is what a drama is supposed to be. WATCH IT. And if you care, do not read any reviews. I just did (when I was looking up the director) and just glancing at it gave away the full plot. Stupid reviewers. Your mom, reviewers, your mom.

Wednesday, 5pm
Cave of Forgotten Dreams (USA) 2
By Werner Herzog

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/caveofforgottendream

Are you KIDDING me ? First of all, I am a huge Herzog fan. Last year when I saw him speak I did indeed find him to be a a bit of a pretentious dick, but that did not change how I felt about his work. Grizzly Man, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done, to name a few. These films are incredible, and Herzog has a looooooooong career of being weird and daring in good ways. This documentary has an absolutely fantastic premise : there is a cave in France called the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave discovered in 1994 that holds the oldest (by over twice the years) paintings in the world… the paintings date back 35,000 years (ARE YOU KIDDING ME ?? amazing) and are staggeringly beautiful and perfectly preserved – the cave’s walls are covered in paintings, some of animals that no longer exist. There are paintings of horses with eight legs to give the effect of speed and running (‘proto cinema’ Herzog calls it). The cave has restricted access by the French government, and no one has previously been able to get in (as in no one but a team of about 10 highly specialized researchers)… but Herzog being Herzog of course got special permission for go in for 4 hours a day for one week with a very small team and extreme restrictions while in the cave. Amazing. And the drawings and paintings are indeed amazing. The sheer history and age within that space gives me chills. One of the stone age artists was about six feet tall and had a crooked pinky on one hand – his hand print is seen several places in the cave. In other places drawings that are side by side were created over 5,000 years apart. Others are layered drawings with the same time gap between the layers – often with bear clawings inserted.

But, I regret to inform you, Cave of Forgotten Dreams does not suffice as anything but a window into the cave of Clauvet. I am not being overly dramatic. Or maybe I am. But no more than I always am. In fact I saw the film with one of the biggest Herzog fans I know, a guy who would be quite likely to say ‘HEY, you just don’t like HIM… lay off the French caves, you BITCH’, and even he said ‘Jesus, that was fucking awful.’ Actually those were my words, but he did hate it. I think he used the word ‘bad.’

First off it is 3-D, and I was violently ill within the first few seconds. Second, the music is AWFUL : it sounds like a middle eastern ditty and an appalacian ballad had sex and raised their child on only encouragement and sound effects... endless noise void of a melody that is supposed to be ‘smart’. I literally had the desire to cover my ears and start screaming a few times during the film (I am so not smart that my reaction to this music was physically violent). And just to give you an idea of how badly Herzog was trying to get us to feel something magical, here are some of his words (I cringed when he said them… OH god they were so misplaced and nonsensical… it just did NOT work)… actually no, I can show you more clearly with another example.

Imagine I am showing you my vagina, a place that has been restricted for thousands of years (obviously working in analogy here), and I put on Brian McKnight and Drake simultaneously as background music, plus I am playing my violin this whole time, and as you gaze into the cave of forgotten dreams (so to speak), I say with a magical, hesitatingly slow Herzogesque tone, ‘Waaaas she once a…. boat ? A night-en-gale ? Or a night-en-gale flavored ice-cream cone ? Was she a believer in a god, or was she lost to the timelessness of once believed canopies of hope ?’ At this point I hope you would run violently away, first of all because the whole situation is extremely awkward, and second because I am making no sense at all, regardless of how cool my voice is.

But if my analogy is anything like Herzog’s newest 3-D documentary, my performance would get fantastic reviews; people have even more incredible Herzog boners throughout the world after seeing this nauseating virtual tour… so, ya know, don’t listen to me.

+The best part of the documentary was when a man was showing Herzog how Paleolithic man killed animals… he demostrated by throwing a spear with such lack of force that it is laughable. This is where Herzog soars – with the strange and different and unruly within humanity. BLAAAAAAAAA. Herzog fail.

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/stone

TIFF 2010: The first nine films

This blog is so atrociously overdue that I feel tempted to throw a fit like an overly tired, easily overwhelmed child and say 'FORGET IT, just FORGET the whole thing.' But this week my goal is to be the man I know I am, and doing things is what I like to do, so here goes.

I attended the Toronto International Film Festival again this year and viewed 29 films in eight days. Here are the first nine of them, reviewed by yours truly and rated on a scale of 1-5.

Thursday, 9pm

Inside Job (USA) 5
By Charles Ferguson

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/insidejob

A documentary about the 2008 economic crisis PRETTY much sounds like the most boring movie this side of the 1800’s… which is why it is so amazing that I can describe this film with words such as : riveting, infuriating, intense, emotional.

I cried multiple times during this documentary (and drained my flask of bubble gum flavored vodka), and not just because I have struggled financially over the past 2 years (thought that was certainly a sore spot), but because of my outrage at hearing a different version of the same story : a few cowardly men with too much power, the immunity they create around them through the systems they wield and the millions left crippled in the wake of their system’s purposeful and knowing collapse. Fuck them.

I can also honestly say that I did not understand a lick of how the United States economy works, or the principles on which our capitalist society is built before watching this film. Ferguson masterfully (and artfully) takes incredibly complex phenomenons and presents them clearly and simply, all while assuming his audience to be intelligent and capable of understanding the complexity. I left this film more angry, more intelligent and more in need of a drink than when I arrived. An absolute must-see.

Friday, 6pm
Dhobi Ghat or Mumbai Diaries (India) 4
By Kiran Rao
Starring: Aamir Khan, Prateik Babbar, Monica Dogra, Kriti Malhotra

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/tbd

In the introduction the director described this film as, ‘a love letter to Mumbai.’ The film stars Aamir Khan, who is hands down the biggest movie star in India. The theatre was FILLED with Indian people (and me), and they were all absolutely hysterical about seeing Aamir. I saw at least three women trembling and crying. The excitement in the room was comparable only to a group of Americans seeing Brad Pitt (or to me seeing Rafael Nadal). There were dozens of security guards surrounding the stage, literally blocking the throngs of screaming fans. It was so much fun to see and feel the energy of the room for this man, especially since I would not have recognized him from Adam. The writer and director of the film, Kiran Rao, is a lovely woman. Kiran and Aamir are married, a fact Aamir humorously referred to by saying he had hoped Kiran would never finish the screenplay because he was afraid of hating it and still having to play in it… :)

The film was, at times, the most poorly acted film that I saw at the festival. The banter between Aamir and the young female star (my GOD she was horrible, and, to be honest, I do not think Aamir is a great actor) was so forced at times that I visibly cringed. But here’s the thing… it didn’t matter. The film’s heart was so big that I forgave immediately the occasionally intense lack of dramatic prowess.
And it was certainly not Aamir who stole the hearts (and eyes, oh là là là) of the audience, but the new actor Prateik Babbar. Babbar’s performance was incredible : he will definitely break your heart in half.
Dhobi Ghat is a film about love, loss and the necessity and terror of having a witness in both.
My heart was in a different place after viewing this film

+During a later film where the cast of this movie was in attendance I forcibly "made eyes" with Prateik for so long that I am almost completely sure that he felt fear.

Friday, 9pm
Stone (USA) 5
By John Curran
Starring : Robert De Niro, Edward Norton, Milla Jovovich, Frances Conroy

Good LORD this film is incredible. Epic, suspenseful, funny and just generally satisfying as a movie. I was on the edge of my seat from the first scene. Robert, Edward, Milla and Frances (Ruth from Six Feet Under) are PERFECTLY cast in their roles, and their performances are staggering.

+The actors introduced the film and then exited the stage, and when they were backstage I managed to get Robert De Niro to return a crazy, maniacal wave… he returned my wave in the same crazy manner. Backstage observations : he had a magnificent white beard, was quite thin, and was very funny in his response. In other words, like Edward Norton last year, he passed my test with flying colors. I would be happy to be friends with him. He is free to submit his application at any time.

Friday, 11 :59pm
Super (USA) 5
By James Gunn
Starring Rainn Wilson, Ellen Page, Liv Tyler, Kevin Bacon, Nathan Fillion

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/super

First of all I just have to show you what the official TIFF site says about the film, because it is the simplified plot and sounds so hilarious :

After his wife (Liv Tyler) leaves him for a drug dealer (Kevin Bacon), a frustrated husband (Rainn Wilson) decides he will win her back as Crimson Bolt, a costumed vigilante armed with a monkey wrench. His actions bring him an admirer, an overeager comic store clerk (Ellen Page) who wants to be his sidekick.

HA. Exactly. This was one of my top films of the festival. I give it a solid, solid 5. I enjoyed every second of Super, which is staggeringly smart from the first few seconds. Funny as hell, violent as fuck, and smart as shit (I almost said ‘Unique as damn, but then thought I would just pseudo-say it parenthetically). Imagine Natural Born Killers meets after-school-special. Fan-fucking-tastic. Do not take children to see this film, as they will not be children post-viewing.

+The entire cast and James Gunn (who used to be married to Jenna Fischer, who is Pam on The Office… James said that it was really Jenna, his ex-wife who got this film made… she kept calling James and pressuring him, and then gave Rainn the script and said “you should do this”) introduced the film and took questions afterwards. All in all I must say Rainn Wilson is one of the funniest, dirtiest individuals I have ever seen, and I have a serious crush on him. He is endlessly fun to listen to because he really does not give a fuck. At one point Ellen Page was trying to answer a question, and was obviously just babbling and bored with herself, when Rainn Wilson took the mic and said, “SHUT UP” and started answering the question himself.

Saturday, 9 :30am

Biutiful (Mexico, Spain) 5+
By Alejandro González Iñárritu
Starring Javier Bardem

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/biutiful#filmnote

This film is not only my favorite from the festival, but my favorite film period. I want you to watch the trailor on the link above, but doing so is like asking you to look at a facebook pic (and calling it ‘pic’) of the love of your life instead of making love to them… it just does not suffice. As I watched the film I lost awareness of the world at large – it is completely perfect in this regard (no distractions from poor editing, poor writing, etc). The film is devestatingly perfect. A few notes : Javier Bardem gives the performance of a lifetime. His stoic face somehow exudes emotion so raw that at times I could hardly bear to watch. I hope he wins everything possible for this role.

The film presents themes of fatherhood (from the emotional perspective of the father, a rare occurance), forgiveness and of bipolar disorder better than I have ever before seen.

Biutiful crushed me into some beautiful kind of pulp. I cannot wait to watch it again.

+I saw Javier smiling in his sexy tux, driving away in a TIFF escalade, and thought, ‘my god, his head is huge.’ Seriously, he is one sexy, huge man.

Saturday, 1:30pm
Little White Lies or Les Petits mouchoirs (France) 3
By Guillaume Canet
Starring : François Cluzet, Marion Cotillard, Benoît Magimel, Gilles Lellouche, Jean Dujardin, Laurent Lafitte, Valérie Bonneton and Pascale Arbillot.

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/littlewhitelies

I wanted to like this film more than I did. Definitely worth seeing but not life-changing. Let’s just say you won’t go out afterwards and and adopt a child.

I thoroughly enjoyed the frenchness of the film – everything from the language to the spacious timing to the American music (what is it with the French using American music for everything ??). This is a film about friendship with several scenes that touched me deeply. Overall I thought it needed a much tighter edit (says the American about the French film), and the removal of a few characters that seemed superfluous.
Marion Cotillard is as gorgeous in person as she is on screen.

+I totally saw Guillaume Canet kiss Marion Cotillard as she got into her TIFF escalade… the first kiss on the mouth I thought ‘He’s French’… the second kiss I thought, ‘He is REALLY French’… and the third kiss that involved tongue and his eyes closing I thought, ‘ooohhhhh.’
Also, on the escalator out of the theatre after the film I was directly beside Gilles Lellouche – I spoke French with him (WAZZZZZZZZUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP ALMOST BILINGUAL), and then the TIFF rep asked him to please not light up until he was out of the building… he was trying to smoke on the escalator. :)

Saturday, 9 :45pm
Julia's Eyes or Los Ojos de Julia (Spain) 4
By Guillem Morales
Produced by: Joaquin Padró, Mar Targarona, Guillermo del Toro

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/juliaseyes

Julia’s Eyes is a psychological thriller with themes of sisters, suicide, blindness and social services – can you think of a more terrifying combination ?? Very well acted and filmed with chilling expertise… scared the shit out of me. A must see if you love to feel your stomach clench in that distinctly Guillermo del Toro kind of way.

Saturday, 11:59pm
Bunraku (USA) 2
By Guy Moshe
Starring : Josh Hartnett, Woody Harrelson, GACKT, Kevin McKidd, Ron Perlman, Demi Moore

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/bunraku

Very weird film. Think Western meets martial arts meets Teletubbies. Guy Moche succeeds in creating an extremely unique film, but fails in linking uniqueness to intrigue. I was entertained for about the first 20 minutes of the film – moments of drama and highly stylized violence made me very happy – but by the end I was praying to the almighty that the characters would all be suddently annialated by an unforseen land mine, therefore bringing the film to an end. My GOD it would not end.
Fun film if you are high or super into a furry Ron Perlman, but othewise a waste of time.

+I thought the character played by GACKT was a woman for almost the entire film. About an hour and a half in I heard the word ‘him’ used to refer to GACKT, and my head spun in confusion. This realization did help me understand why her voice was so incredibly husky, and why Josh Hartnett and GACKT were not hooking up… although if the quiet angry cowboy and the vengeful Japanese warrior HAD hooked up, it might have ultimately created a much more interesting viewing experience.

Sunday, 12pm
The Conspirator (USA) 1
Directed by Robert Redford
Starring : James McAvoy, Robin Wright, Kevin Kline, Evan Rachel Wood and Tom Wilkinson.

http://tiff.net/filmsandschedules/tiff/2010/conspirator

This film sounds incredible, am I right? How can you go wrong with this much experience and huge amounts of money (wazzup Red) and TOM WILKINSON? The Conspirator – that’s how you go wrong.

Imagine me in a theater viewing a film about political corruption and abuse of power, a woman bearing the brunt of a man’s crime, and losing love due to choosing what is right over what is easy… sounds riveting, yes? Sounds like something that would have me on the edge of my seat, weeping intermitantly and almost wetting my pants a few times.
Now imagine what really happened: me, stragetically farting during the silent parts of the film just to keep myself interested in life by antagonizing those around me, drinking heavily from my flask (by this time I had switched to rootbeer flavored vodka), laughing out loud at what were supposed to be the emotional and “moving” moments, and only reacting to the final climactic hanging of the woman with something other than laughter (I am not giving anything away… it’s historical... Lincoln gets shot at another point in the film… shocker, I know) because my Mama trained me in culturally appropriate emotional responses when I was young – in other words, I felt NOTHING. The editing was atrocious – there were entire scenes that I could not place within the structure of the film. The lighting was pretty. But so is my ass.
Redford should serve time for this film – it is absolutely horrible. No excuses Red, you are not exactly a newbie.

Karolina and Destiny, Seattle WA →PHOTO←

Oh là là là là... click here to view more samples from Karolina and Destiny's stunning wedding...

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Rêverie.1

The man holds her in his strong arms carefully, as if afraid she will disappear.

He touches her face with his hand and leans down to kiss her mouth.

Happiness radiates through her body and mind, a wash of perfect peace.  He lifts his face just enough to separate his lips from hers and whispers, not because he is afraid to speak but because he knows there are places in her that can only be reached by a whisper, ‘I love you.’

✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳

Her eyes open. The dream hovers in her mouth and eyes and throat. He is already awake next to her, watching her dream.

‘What did you dream?’ he asks.

Even her sleeping face is animated. She is not awake enough to lie, only enough to avoid.

‘I cannot tell you,’ she replies.

She laughs as she watches his sleepy curiosity transform into genuine interest. He sits and props up his head with his hand, his eyes dancing with intrigue.

‘OH yes, yes, yes, you can tell me! It was a good dream? I was in your dream?’

He leans down and kisses her mouth gently, convincingly, curious as always to find and feel what is inside of her.

The girl blushes and averts her gaze, sure he can see the dream in her eyes.

‘Yes you were in my dream. Someday I will tell you. I promise.’

He kisses her again with a smiling mouth, ‘Okay, beautiful girl.’

He does not ask her again.

The dream stays in her body until reality overtakes it.  

She has known him one week.

Taylar and Pete, Seattle→PHOTO←

More coming soon... (drool)

Home (place), Part 1

My heart is full these days, in the best of ways. One of the reasons (more reasons to come very soon): I live in the most beautiful place in the world.

A few recent photographs from the part of home that is a place...

"Sometimes rain that's needed falls"

"Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity"

"I am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me"

"All around is sky and blue town"

"I am humbled in this city"

Amber and Danny, Seattle→PHOTO←

Engagement photos with Amber and Danny - more coming soon!

liz and hai got married! →PHOTO←

I had the privilege of photographing Liz and Hai's wedding last weekend just a few blocks from my home in Queen Anne. Their wedding was intimate and elegant and took part at an enclosed park filled with blooming flowers. Their wedding was absolutely heart warming and left me feeling full of hope (not to mention really delicious food). Liz and Hai were themselves on their wedding day, a feat that is easier said than done. In the words of Liz, "It feels like a normal day, just fancier." Here are a few samples from their lovely celebration.

Liz and Hai it was a pleasure to photograph you and to be with you on your wedding day. I wish you all the best!!

You are invited...

OH là là, I love boudoir. (hint: this rhymes if you are pronouncing it correctly)

The May and June Boudoir Photography days were completely booked
and completely magical.

I have no words to describe how special and how
fun
the days were for me and for my clients.

I am thrilled to say that Boudoir Photography has become
a regular and substantial part of my art and work...

...more photos coming soon... (isn't she lovely??)

Next boudoir photography day for the discounted rate of 250 dollars including drinks and professional make-up, Sunday, July 25th.

Email or call to reserve your session time:
[email protected]
206.235.7415

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Cordelia: she's dogtastic.

Introducing, Doggie Photo Sessions 101: "it's Dogtography!"

Cordelia and her Mommy Joani were my first clients in the world of pet photography... I do not think I have stopped smiling since our photoshoot! Cordelia truly is the cutest dog I have ever seen in my life. Cordelia loves cheese and prefers to speak in français, and is a big fan of Dr Who. Joani has to carry a tazer, a few knives and (little known fact) a handgun with her at all times because the risk of Cordelia being stolen by cute-crazed pedestrians is such a real danger. Cordelia jokes about it by saying, "Mom is packin heat today!" or, "Maman a une arme à feu aujourd'hui." There is no doubt that she will be snatched up by a modeling agency as soon as these photos are aired. I consider myself lucky to have known her before her unparalleled impending fame, and to always be able to say, "I knew Cordelia when..."

View a sample of the cuteness here.

To schedule a photoshoot with you and your precious pooch, call 206.235.7415 or email me at [email protected]

Boudoir Photography Sessions, May 23rd and June 6th: Love Your Body

Women are sexy, let’s just admit it. Our form is alluring. The sway of our hips can conquor nations; the curve of our breasts can bring a man to his knees. There is a distinctly visual aspect to a woman's beauty, an aspect of our sex that we downplay and even hate on a very regular basis.

As women our bodies are objectified and criticized on a tireless basis by an array of media that creates cultural assumptions about how a woman should look. As a result we as women must actively and fiercely fight to love our bodies and not split off or hate our sexuality or, more specifically, our form.

I am madly in love with the female form. We as women really are the most beautiful creatures on the planet, and it is by owning this beauty, not fearing it, that we become empowered as women.

As part of my ravenous determination to love my womanness in the face of all who ask me to hate it, I am inviting you to love your body in a very specific way. I am asking you to not be afraid. I am asking you to let your seductive female form be explored, documented and honored. I am already excited as I imagine what you will discover.

On Sunday, May 23rd and Sunday June 6th I am hosting Boudoir Photography sessions at a discounted rate at my home in Seattle.

Professional make-up will be provided as well as props and a lot of alcohol (you know how I roll).

My regular rates for a Boudoir Photograph session begin at 600 dollars – for this day my rates are 250 dollars per session.

This price includes 1.5 hours of private session time with yours truly, make-up by a professional make-up artist (if you so desire), all the alcohol you can drink and 25 final photographs of your gorgeous self.

My style of Boudoir ranges from pin-up to abstract… when you reserve session time you will receive a long informational email, as well as a phone or coffee date with me to go over all the details: how you should prepare, what you can expect, etc.

Boudoir photography really is life changing. It is not only when I present my photographs to my beautiful man that I feel my heart soar (and his, among other things), but it is when I come face to face with my own form that my heart fills with pride and I find myself transformed.

We are woman and we are sexy. No matter how many times I remind myself of this truth it is only through action that I learn to truly believe it. Loving yourself is a discipline. Slowly but surely I am growing in the confidence that my beauty does not only exist in my intellect and heart, but also in my form.

I invite you to enter the erotic side of your sex in a new way.

Email today to inquire about remaining session times.

If you know a woman who might be interested in this opportunity, feel free to forward her this information.

Fighting with and for you,

Charis Brice

[email protected]

206.235.7415

--

Website: http://www.chalkballerinaphotography.com
Blog: http://www.chalkballerina.blogs.com

Adora and Obi+, Washington D.C.→PHOTO←

Meet my other very special reason-I-was-in-DC. I photographed Adora and Obi for their wedding in Dallas a few years ago, and now they have two beautiful girls!
Adora and Obi it was such a pleasure to photograph you and your lovely family and to see a bit of your life and home. Your daughters are absolutely beautiful (as are their parents) and I absolutely love the photographs from our time together.

Also, Obi - I really will beat you in Words With Friends one of these days... SO HELP ME GOD.

Until next time!!

(click here to view a sample of our family photoshoot.)

If you are interested in booking a family photo session with me in the upcoming months, give me a call at 206.235.7415 or send an email to chalkballerina@gmail.com

Introducing: Julie (Make-up, for all your divas getting married)

With booking season underway the couples I talk with are thinking through different aspects of their wedding day: photography, venue, catering, dress, tuxedo, colors, cake, hair. Interestingly enough makeup is one of the last services booked by brides, and yet the FACE is one of the most visible parts of the day - the faces of the couple are the POINT OF THE DAY, right? I recently met a makeup artist named Julie. As most of you know, I take referrals very seriously, and would never recommend a service provider without having first hand knowledge of their abilities. So, before recommending Julie I had a private makeup consultation with her, as well as having Julie do my makeup in a fantastically diva-esque, slightly vintage manner.
I had an amazing time with Julie - she is funny, beautiful, and highly competent in her art. I can honestly say that I highly recommend her, not only for who she is as a woman, but for the artistic skill and intuition she confidently showed me (and my face).

Of course, I also want you to judge for yourself. So if you like what you see, call Julie, and tell her I said howdy.

Her digits are 206.399.5051, and her email is [email protected]

And this is her face... because, ya know, I am a big fan of faces (so is Julie...).

Diane, Jay and Dakota, Washington D.C.→PHOTO←

I recently spent some time in Washington DC photographing a few dear clients. You might remember beautiful Diane and Jay from their wedding photographs a few years ago.

Dakota was in the wedding pictures, but not quite as visible or autonomous as you now see her. :)

It was such an honor to photograph this sweet family - I get chills thinking about the privilege I have in documenting not only a wedding but the life and family that follows.

Diane and Jay and Dakota - it was once again a pleasure. You three are so lovely and so alive. I can't wait until next time!

To view a sample from Diane+Jay+Kakota Family Shoot, click here.

If you are interested in booking a family photo session with me in the upcoming months, give me a call at 206.235.7415 or send an email to chalkballerina@gmail.com

Seattle.1 →PHOTO←

Sendarius & Shemaine, Washington D.C.→PHOTO←

To view a sample of Shemaine and Sendarius' engagement photographs, click here.

Sendarius and Shemaine - I love you two together. You have a gentle, absolute way of loving one other, and your joy is undeniable and contagious. Looking at your pictures moves my heart, puts a smile on my face and makes me hope for my own heart and life. You are both beautiful people, and as a couple you take my breath away.

Thank you for the honor of photographing you this weekend. I will see you for your wedding in a few short months!

BIRD!!!!!

For Sale:

Introducing my very own online portfolio of prints available for purchase. Enjoy. And buy them.

Support the art you love. Or, if you love me, support the artist you love.

Click here to view the beginnings.
Prints will be added daily.

Guard-Bird of Paris

Lyon, FR →PHOTO←

I miss.

Chapter 9

I cannot get Chapter 9 of Wind in the Willows out of my head today. A few excerpts from Wayfarers All:

_______________________________________________

'The Water Rat was restless, and he did not exactly know why. To all appearance the summer's pomp was still at fullest height, and although in the tilled acres green had given way to gold, though rowans were reddening, and the woods were dashed here and there with a tawny fierceness, yet light and warmth and colour were still present in undiminished measure, clean of any chilly premonitions of the passing year. But the constant chorus of the orchards and hedges had shrunk to a casual evensong from a few yet unwearied performers; the robin was beginning to assert himself once more; and there was a feeling in the air of change and departure.'

'No, you don't understand, naturally,' said the second swallow. 'First, we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back come the recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They flutter through our dreams at night, they fly with us in our wheelings and circlings by day. We hunger to inquire of each other, to compare notes and assure ourselves that it was all really true, as one by one the scents and sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon to us.'

'Couldn't you stop on for just this year?' suggested the Water Rat, wistfully. 'We'll all do our best to make you feel at home. You've no idea what good times we have here, while you are far away.'

'In due time,' said the third, 'we shall be home-sick once more for quiet water-lilies swaying on the surface of an English stream. But to-day all that seems pale and thin and very far away. Just now our blood dances to other music.'

(Rat is then seduced and entranced by a Seafaring Rat, and forgets who he is)...

'Mechanically he rose and proceeded to repack the luncheon-basket, carefully and without haste. Mechanically he returned home, gathered together a few small necessaries and special treasures he was fond of, and put them in a satchel; acting with slow deliberation, moving about the room like a sleep-walker; listening ever with parted lips. He swung the satchel over his shoulder, carefully selected a stout stick for his wayfaring, and with no haste, but with no hesitation at all, he stepped across the threshold just as the Mole appeared at the door.

'Why, where are you off to, Ratty?' asked the Mole in great surprise, grasping him by the arm.

'Going South, with the rest of them,' murmured the Rat in a dreamy monotone, never looking at him. 'Seawards first and then on shipboard, and so to the shores that are calling me!'

He pressed resolutely forward, still without haste, but with dogged fixity of purpose; but the Mole, now thoroughly alarmed, placed himself in front of him, and looking into his eyes saw that they were glazed and set and turned a streaked and shifting grey— not his friend's eyes, but the eyes of some other animal! Grappling with him strongly he dragged him inside, threw him down, and held him.

The Rat struggled desperately for a few moments, and then his strength seemed suddenly to leave him, and he lay still and exhausted, with closed eyes, trembling. Presently the Mole assisted him to rise and placed him in a chair, where he sat collapsed and shrunken into himself, his body shaken by a violent shivering, passing in time into an hysterical fit of dry sobbing. Mole made the door fast, threw the satchel into a drawer and locked it, and sat down quietly on the table by his friend, waiting for the strange seizure to pass. Gradually the Rat sank into a troubled doze, broken by starts and confused murmurings of things strange and wild and foreign to the unenlightened Mole; and from that he passed into a deep slumber.

Poor Ratty did his best, by degrees, to explain things; but how could he put into cold words what had mostly been suggestion? How recall, for another's benefit, the haunting sea voices that had sung to him, how reproduce at second-hand the magic of the Seafarer's hundred reminiscences? Even to himself, now the spell was broken and the glamour gone, he found it difficult to account for what had seemed, some hours ago, the inevitable and only thing. It is not surprising, then, that he failed to convey to the Mole any clear idea of what he had been through that day.

To the Mole this much was plain: the fit, or attack, had passed away, and had left him sane again, though shaken and cast down by the reaction. But he seemed to have lost all interest for the time in the things that went to make up his daily life, as well as in all pleasant forecastings of the altered days and doings that the changing season was surely bringing.

Casually, then, and with seeming indifference, the Mole turned his talk to the harvest that was being gathered in, the towering wagons and their straining teams, the growing ricks, and the large moon rising over bare acres dotted with sheaves. He talked of the reddening apples around, of the browning nuts, of jams and preserves and the distilling of cordials; till by easy stages such as these he reached midwinter, its hearty joys and its snug home life, and then he became simply lyrical.

By degrees the Rat began to sit up and to join in. His dull eye brightened, and he lost some of his listening air.

Presently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and a few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at his friend's elbow.

'It's quite a long time since you did any poetry,' he remarked. 'You might have a try at it this evening, instead of— well, brooding over things so much. I've an idea that you'll feel a lot better when you've got something jotted down— if it's only just the rhymes.'

The Rat pushed the paper away from him wearily, but the discreet Mole took occasion to leave the room, and when he peeped in again some time later, the Rat was absorbed and deaf to the world; alternately scribbling and sucking the top of his pencil. It is true that he sucked a good deal more than he scribbled; but it was joy to the Mole to know that the cure had at least begun.'

__________________________________

OOHH, that's why I can't get it out of my head. Tears.

Madrid →PHOTO←

Dis-moi... (tell me).

I am going to Madrid on Wednesday... suggestions?

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Heart strings

Once upon a time in a land extremely far away, twice as far in fact as the place you are imagining, a girl met a boy. The boy puffed out his chest to impress the girl, and when the girl saw this she loved him. She wrapped the strings of her heart around his, and so entangled they lived. Over the years the boy traveled to many different lands, sometimes leaving the girl at home. Each time he traveled the strings of the girl’s heart would stretch. The strings grew long and strong and flexible; no matter where the boy went the girl could feel him tugging against her heart – they were attached. When he was lost she would pull him back home, each pull bringing him closer to her heart.

One day the boy went on a trip to a land very nearby (and therefore very far from the land extremely far away, twice as far in fact as the place you are imagining) and when he arrived he took out a pair of scissors and cut the girl’s heart strings from his. The girl drew a sharp breath and released an impressive string of profanities as she felt the strings go slack. The boy was lost, but without the heart strings between them she could not pull him back home.

And so unentwined, she continued to live.

One day more recently, in a land not quite so extremely far away, the girl met a different boy. The boy jumped very high to impress the girl, and when the girl saw this she loved him. She wrapped the strings of her heart around his, but when she stepped back to feel the familiar tug against her heart, the strings snapped away from the boy and landed with a terribe sting against her. “That’s strange,” thought the girl. “It worked last time.” She tried again. “SNAP.” Her heart smarted with pain and her mind spun with panic. The girl reviewed her actions, “I met him, I love him, and now I attach to him.” It was perfect - the first try must have been a glitch. She tried again, this time stepping closer to the boy. With chests pressed together she gently wound her heart strings around his, and let out a yelp of excitement as she felt the familiar tug. The girl said sweet nothings to the boy for a few minutes as she rested against his chest, feeling safe and loved and connected, but when the boy took a step away (in order to again show her how high he could jump), the now familiar “SNAP” and smart of pain again occurred.

“SON of a BITCH!!!!!!!!!” the girl exclaimed, rubbing her heart in fury. “WHY isn’t this working!!? WHAT IS WROOONNGGG WITH YOU????????” she shouted at her heart strings. In a fit of frustration the girl chest bumped the wall repeatedly and drank for a few hours. She was devestated. She would never again attach to anything, ever. When she was quite drunk she tied her heart strings to her fingers and closed her eyes, pretending the tug she felt was from the boy. It was at this unforunately vulnerable and definitively embarrassing moment that the girl’s fairy godmother showed up. Unseen by the girl the fairy godmother snuck behind the girl and made sexual noises corresponding with the tugging of the girl upon her own heart. “Oh yeah, REAL mature,” said the girl, startled and quickly hiding her heart strings. The fairy godmother laughed hysterically for a few minutes, not forgetting the pain of the girl but temporarily genuinely overwhelmed by her own wit and perfect timing. “Dear girl, WHATEVER is the matter?” the fairy godmedian asked kindly, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh nothing, nothing except that I can’t LOVE A BOY anymore… so ya know, NO BIG DEAL.” The girl attempted to make this sarcastic statement with force and with rage, but instead, due to flailing emotions, succeeded only with a squeaking voice and a slight whine.

The fairy godmother looked confused, “But my dear, I distinctly remember hearing that you indeed DID love this boy!”

With a roll of the eyes that served to hide her threatening tears the girl responded, “I thought I did… but I must not.” With that the girl lost all control and sobbed, fully loaded, for several minutes as she struggled to tell the fairy godmother what had happened.
Piecing together the story between the repeated word “SNAP”, the sobs and the hiccups, the fairy godmother eventually understood. “I am afraid I am to blame for this one,” the fairy godmother said with a sigh. “My dear, there is no way that you could attach in the same way you used to. It simply isn’t possible.”
The girl was confused and slightly indignant, “Well, YOU are sure wrong. I certainly CAN attach… something is just wrong with THIS boy… I attached quite well before and my heart strings stretched very, very far…” With this reminder of her superior past performance the girl again broke down, though this time with far less commitment.

“My dear YES, YES your heart strings were very strong and very long, but my dear those heart strings are different.” She paused for effect. “The ones you have now are baby heart strings.”
With that the fairy godmother pulled out her massive purse, and after digging for several minutes produced what appeared to be two hideously shrivled black hoses. “THESE are your old heart strings my dear. After that bastard cut them I tried to revive them… soaking them in warm water and threatening them and singing to them, but all to no avail; within a few months the heart strings had shrivled and died. You were too heartbroken to notice of course, but they fell off in your sleep. It was mostly painless by that point.” The girl was in shock. “So, the heart strings I have now are, different?” “OF COURSE they are my dear!” the fairy godmother shouted, always delighted with a good learning moment. “In fact, it is a miracle you can stretch them as far as another person’s heart. It has only been a few months.” “17 months, actually.” The girl responded, again defensive. “Yes dear, 17 months. And 17 months is very young for a new set of heart strings. You have to give them time to grow and stretch and learn to attach. They are babies, not ROBOTS!”

With this strange and unclear joke the fairy godmedian again broke down, losing herself in her own humor.

The girl didn’t mind the hysterical howling this time however. She was mezmerized. She touched her heart strings gently now, apologizing internally for the cruel profanity of the earlier episode. How could she have been so cruel and so demanding of something so young! “We will learn together, sweet pookies,” she said softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay… What do you SEE? What do you SEE?” The girl babyheartstringtalked for a while and then frowned, looking up at her fairy godmother. “Wait, so, I do love the boy then?” The fairy godmother set her face as all people who are preparing to say extremely profound things do, and said, with only a tiny twitch beside her mouth to reveal her deceit, “Well my dear, you aren’t a ROBOT!”

The shrieks and vibrations of her laughter were left unscatched by the girl, though the girl and her foul mouth had prepared quite a delicious montage in the wake of this non-answer, since everyone knows the shrieks and vibirations of a fairy godmother’s laugh make baby heart strings grow strong and fast and flexible.

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Connect-the-dots

They rest now on the bed, his body pressing against hers. They listen to the other's breathing as it slows: the inhaling and exhaling, first he and then she, now one breath together;
the room is silent except for this syncopated respiration.

With legs entwined he feels her heart, maybe his, beating into his thigh from behind her knee. He is sure the beating between them belongs to her.

She feels it too and wonders what her heart is doing behind her knee and how long it will stay there.

He lies on his side propped up on an elbox, resting his head against the palm of his hand.
She lies on her back, her head completely missing the pillow.

She kicks the remaining blanket to the floor and in response he leans over her and cracks the window.

A lonely streetlight buzzes, halfheartedly illuminating the dark street with a hazy yellow light that seeps into the room between the slats of the blinds.

Through the slats the light percolates, suffusing symmetrical dashes of yellow light on the walls and bed and floor and bodies. Rectangles of perfectly patterned lights create a semblance of art in a room that is white and stark by day.

She turns her head and looks at him, only flecks of him visible to her, only the pieces of him illumined by the yellow light. With these dashes as her compass she plays connect-the-dots with her fingers and fills in the hidden places using her imagination.

As she lifts her dark face to his the lights like a disco ball cascade across her face.

Ma matinée →PHOTO←

⬆Part I.

⬇Part II.

I am in Paris, where the architecture takes my breath away and demands that I tell a different story than I have told before, but it is still the photographs of faces that I find endlessly fascinating...

...to say the least.

Paris.9 →PHOTO←

Behind the darkness are ten thousand empty faces.