Beanie Cap Guy

Pantheon: The Utah Collection 2...

 

It's finally here!

Pantheon picks up where The Utah Collection left off but by and large has a heart of its own. My great affection for the people I photograph is perhaps more apparent than ever here; the darker and more personal explorations left for other books at other times. This is an unbridled expression of love and fascination for those who are willing to step out in front of my camera and dance. It's a celebration of those who take off their clothes and wade out into the water naked, fearless and free. And maybe more than anything else it's just a way of saying look; look how beautiful we all are when we step back into our bodies and make them our own. Preview the entire book online by clicking below.

THE UTAH COLLECTION

A year in the making, THE UTAH COLLECTION is now in print and available to preview and/or purchase through Blurb.

The Utah Collection by Tom Clark

 

 
  

Merry Holidays...

Here is my greeting card to all of you for the holidays '09. It's been quite a year with a passionate return to doing what I love most. This is an image from my work with Heather & Joe out on the Bonneville Salt Flats near the Utah/Nevada border. My first book, The Utah Collection, will be published soon and will include this image.

A major part of my creative process involves just picking up the camera and getting out of the house. The rest of it happens without a lot of fuss.

Thank you Joe & Heather for being such fun playmates!

And to the rest of you, thank you for your continued interest in my work and for the kind words that lift me up and make me smile.
 

Bradley The Plein Air Artist...

I photographed Bradley Clark this week up in the mountains above Park City. He's a professional illustrator and also does extraordinarily beautiful watercolors working a plein air as you see him here. I promise you, you'll really enjoy a visit to his website.

 

Brad and I were good friends in college - he's a singer and we made a lot of music together and even did a recital together our sophmore year. He took off for Art Center in Pasadena where he met his wife Cindy, who's also an illustrator and then they moved to New York and I didn't see them much after that. They recently moved to Salt Lake after three kids and nearly thirty years in upstate and I've had a wonderful time reconnecting with them. Did some headshots of Brad a few weeks ago and now these shots of him painting.

Our families come from the same area in southern Idaho but we are not related by our last name. We are however related through marriage; I believe we have great aunts who are sisters, something like that.

Almost 30 years later I can still see so clearly why I liked Brad so much when we were kids in college. He's bright, he's talented and he laughs at my jokes; he gets the subtleties of my humour without ever having to explain a thing and vice-versa. It's nice. And hey, he's got a gorgeous voice and a beautiful wife. What more could a guy want...

 

I am surrounded, always, by such wonderful people. I'm not sure I know anybody luckier than me.

 

Fuck The Mormons...

 

Whatever shred of patience or tolerance for the sewage of mormonism that remained in my soul is gone. I don't care if I ever speak to my twin or my mom again as long as any of us live. I hate everything about this cult called mormonism. It's the ugliest grouping of people on the face of the earth. Fucking white misogynist racist elitists. They can all go shove their anti-gay attitudes up their puckered pink buttholes.

Today was the end. Enough. That part of me that is influenced so heavily by my Scorpio sun has awakened from a long slumber. After so many years of keeping the hypocrite's secrets I've decided to go public with the names of the people in Salt Lake I've had affairs with.

Mormons: go fuck yourselves. There are no more cheeks to turn and you have used up all of the patience I might have ever held in reserve for you.

It's over. No more Mr. Nice Gay.

Not To Worry...

Don't give up hope guys. I'm still here and very much alive but been hunkered down in survival mode. Blogging is something I enjoy very much and have been completely committed to for four or five years now. I also realize that at times I've felt pressured to keep the posts coming regardless of my ability to do so or whether or not I had anything to share. I'm gradually getting over that now and balancing this wonderful thing called blogging with the demands of my everyday life. For most of my life I've been consumed with the desire to be accepted and loved. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why that might be the case. So I make beautiful music, I design gorgeous gardens, I take fabulously sexy and compelling pictures of people, I crochet luxurious beanie caps and I design business cards and brochures that get people's attention. Everything I do satisfies me at some level but I'm also aware that a lot of what I do generates compliments and praise and ultimately lots and lots of acceptance and approval.

When will I stop feeling the need to be validated? Perhaps never. But this continuous quest for the tiara of popularity is tiring. There has to be a point at which my own validation of self is enough. And I'm getting closer and closer to it as the days go by. One of the consequences of the catastrophic illness that nearly took my life three years ago is a reduction in energy. You'd never know it to look at me these days but I know it. Something inside of me has finally spoken up and said "Tom, you need to be careful."

Out of the darkness and struggle of the past three years has come some intensely bright light on the horizon. There are things in the works that are clearly what I fought so hard to come back from death for. I kind of knew they were there but on many occasions simply lost hope that they would ever surface. It's happening - the dreams that got shelved as a result of the illness are coming back into focus, both literally and metaphorically. There is a lot of road still ahead but I'm on it and the light is getting brighter by the day. Light at the end of the tunnel - such an overused but appropriate way to describe the feeling of what's going on.

The Placerville Lovers...

I realized today that it'd been four months since I'd posted any new caps to the Pussy Cap website. That's just wrong. This morning the sun came out for a few minutes so I raced outside with all of my gear and photographed seven new Pussy Caps plus six new custom ones and then invested the rest of my day getting them all up onto the website. Whew! Here's just a sample of what's on the What's New Page over in Pussy Cap world. This is, believe it or not, crafted from Lisa Souza's handspun Royal Cashmere. Uh huh.

 

I was allowed into the mountain vault where Lisa stores her gold bullions royal cashmere, but I had to go in blindfolded and then put in a spinner and whirled until I felt like split pea soup and then whisked down a long corridor hanging from my ankles so as to be completely disoriented as to which way I was going. It was worth it though as she opened the sacred vessel that held the precious fibers and I got to look in at and touch the holy grail of cashmere. It was a moment I shall long remember and treasure. Sigh...

 

She doesn't just hand this stuff out like treats at Halloween you know. You've gotta catch her at just the right moment when she's had one of those grandma moments and she's all weepy and sentimental and stuff. If you know Lisa you know that weepy and sentimental aren't exactly every day occurences for her. You have to watch the winds and what they're doing to the tops of the tall trees and you've got to have a sense of what's going on deep beneath the earth's surface. Listen to the birds in the forest because Lisa listens to them too and somewhere in all of that you're gonna know when the moment is right to beg some royal cashmere off her.  :-)  It's an artform but for those of us who love cashmere it's worth learning how it works!

Bringing In '09...

 

My friend Jim sent this to me and it made me laugh. There ain't no such thing as gay without YMCA and the hand motions to go along with it. Thank you Jim for helping me bring in the new year with a smile.

I bought a bottle of Italian Amarone earlier today and some wonderful Italian black truffle cheese to have with it. I also snagged a loaf of Italian bread and some French pork pate`  along with a half a pound of Prosciutto di Parma, all of which is sitting handsomely here on a plate next to me on the floor. The Amarone is such a deep ruby red that you can't see through it holding it up to the light. I've had it open for almost 45 minutes now and it's starting to show off its stuff. Wow. I've had Amarone before but it's nice to be reminded of how amazing these more precious Italian wines are. Show offs, just like Italian men.

And speaking of Italian men I went to see a little gay movie called Ciao this evening in which the lead character was a handsome Italian guy from Genova who came to America to meet somebody, met somebody else and kind of fell in love. Way too slowly paced, which is problematic because I usually get and enjoy slower paced movies. But whatever, it was gay and the leads were hunks I guess that should be enough, right? It's a good thing the wine is good - that's all I have to say about that.

Got my hair cut earlier today and took care of business stuff before that and have been enjoying my time here in Hollywood immensely. It's always good to be home. I know where I'm going, I know how long it takes to get there and I know when it's best to take Fountain across town and when it's best to avoid it. Everyone is beautiful in Hollywood and the men are all gay and the cars are all washed and everyone is as fucked up as I am. It's nice to come home and feel like I'm the sanest person around. I'm not of course but it's nice pretending. Tomorrow I'm going to the beach, probably Laguna, and I'm going to bury my toes in the sand and let the earth and the ocean do that thing they do to me.

I've had a good if not challenging year and '09 holds promise of even more wonder and contentment. I have tired feet and am looking to give them a rest. I'm healthier and happier than I've been in years so life is good and I'm thrilled to still be a part of it all.

I wish you lots and lots of whatever it is that makes you happiest.

ciao e buon anno,

Tom

When in Rome...

Giacomo had been promising to take me to the ancient, open-air hot springs north of Rome for several months and finally on the day after Easter, Pasquetta, we decided to take a little road trip and go. My brand new Alfa Romeo soon filled up with the smoke from Giacomo's hash pipe and though at first I declined his offer to share it with me, I finally gave in and joined the party.

The small winding roads out of town were lined with beautiful old trees and surrounded by lush green fields that grew redder and darker as the evening quickly came and went. Thanks to the hash it wasn't long before we were hopelessly lost and taking one u-turn after another trying to get to the springs. It didn't help much that they were located way out in a field several miles from the nearest paved road and in the dark it was almost impossible to see any familiar landmarks. With no road signs to point the way, Giacomo was navigating purely on instinct. But we pressed on and by ten o'clock or so we finally came upon a nest of cars that signaled our arrival at the springs.

Giacomo had assured me that everybody went naked in the springs and so there was no need to bring swimsuits. I found myself feeling grateful that we'd arrived after dark since now it appeared that there were quite a few people there and I was feeling a little shy. In the distance I could just make out the silhouette of the ancient Roman ruins that curved around one end of the springs and I could see the mist rising up from the warm water and trailing off into the darkness of the cool night air. A single light bulb on a wooden post stood at one end of the springs and cast a soft glow across the entire bathing area, which made it abundantly clear that there were not only a lot of people there but several small children as well. Giacomo and I looked at each other and began to laugh - as far as we could tell there wasn't a single person in the springs without a swimsuit on and we decided it might be best to go find something to eat and come back later.

Giacomo...

Was I not supposed to fall in love? 

Do you know what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

 

Resistance is futile.