Ella Rose: the story: November 2010

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Update...

Sooo, I'm having a bit of a break from modelling now, not because I don't like doing it anymore (I absolutely love it!), but because I need to take some time to gather my thoughts regarding a recent major change in my personal life - and focus on what I want. Hopefully I'll be back sometime early next year, depending on what plans I make.

In the meantime, here's a shot or two from a recent shoot I did with Silverlight (more on him later, as I'm sure I'll do a proper blog post on it very soon - we did so many different sets and genres, and they looked amazing on the screen!). The first one here was just a bit of fun, and I was sent it very quickly to cheer up my inbox!

Meet Oliver (aka Zoolander):

Friday, 19 November 2010

Big Hair and B&W Film

I've had three shoots recently with a wonderful hobbiest photographer called Tony Ornstien (no link, unfortunately) and his wife Jennifer. Tony contacted me via my website a while ago wanting to work on some images in which the women are portrayed as strong, powerful and glamorous; he and Jennifer are big fans of the likes of Helmut Newton (their house is covered in bold and intriguing art works), and make an incredibly enthusiastic team. Tony is always striving to improve on his last efforts, keen to perfect the lighting, and seems to really enjoy having me to practise on (I'll be seeing him again soon for a fourth visit to work on a particular set which has a lot of potential!) and Jennifer, an ex-racing car driver, enjoys brushing my hair and making it ENORMOUS!! :-) Both are careful to check details (of both myself and the background) before a set is ready to be clicked; it's important that the images convey a plausible context.

Because Tony works with film (Hasselblad) rather than a digital camera, there's no checking the back of the camera to see what the results are like, so each visit begins with a table display of the last visit's images (developed in the dark room), which is always fun and involves lots of analysis! I actually met them both last night in Oxford, for a quick dinner and perusal of the latest shots of my generally-naked self, before a dance troupe practise.

Here are a few of the shots so far. I was kindly given a print of the first!

Wednesday, 17 November 2010

Autumn in my backyard

...Well not quite my backyard, but near enough. I had my third shoot with Jeremy Howitt recently. Always nice to get repeat bookings (makes you feel you must be doing something right!), and I do enjoy working with Jeremy. He always has a particular idea, style, piece of clothing or inspiration he wants to work with. This shoot was a lot shorter than the last rather epic trip to north Wales; we shot very quickly in some woodland near my house in Oxfordshire (in fact, very close to where we'd shot amongst some bluebells a long time ago... See my first ever blog post). Unfortunately, we struggled with the weather and conditions a bit, and the recent strong winds had knocked a few too many leaves off the trees for our liking... But you can never predict these things at this time of year! I love the cool warmth ('cool warmth' - I know what I mean) and glow to these shots. Glad to say there are a further two shoots (each very different) potentially in the pipeline.

Monday, 8 November 2010

Keeping Hidden

I haven't blogged for a while - just had a week or so off to do other things, catch up on other things, sort things out (lots of 'things' going on there) - but I wanted to post a couple of images from a shoot I did at the beginning of this month with Tim Griffiths. Tim, who describes himself as a beginner, first became interested in photography via a passion for sculpture. We had a short shoot (2hrs) at a fantastic location not far from where I live, but unfortunately (it being nudes we'd planned to do) we were plagued by dog walkers, people fishing and even children all around us! Poor Tim; we really thought we were screwed. As soon as we thought we were out of sight of the children (who unfortunately run rather than walk, making their potential appearance all the more sudden; see a previous post on the perils of horse-riders), the teenage boys who were fishing decided to change their routine behaviour of staring at the stream in the opposite direction (very carefully observed by us prior to me taking off my clothes) and spontaneously stand up and look around. Cue wolf whistling and mad dashing. Hhhm. I would say that we got a total of 5-10mins of photography in the end; a great shame, but neither of our faults and I definitely enjoyed working with Tim nevertheless. Tim has very kindly let me show these off. I like the shots below all the more for the trouble and strife it took to get them!:-)

Child-friendly headshots:

Sneaky nude (I really like the blue/green background hues in this):

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About Me

(For full information, including interviews and publications, see my website.)

Based in Oxfordshire/London, UK (and travelling anywhere and everywhere; click on the 'travel plans' tab near the top!), I'm a dance-trained model and writer. I began modelling for a painter while completing my Masters degree and accidentally carried on. Whether traditional or experimental, from artistic nudes to fashion shots, I strive to work with artists and photographers to help create images which are memorable, beautiful, intriguing or celebratory of the female form.

I am primarily an 'art model', taking bookings directly and independently, but am also represented by commercial agencies. I enjoy versatility and take on work across the spectrum: dance/movement, lingerie, fitness, commercial, lifestyle, wedding, fashion, beauty and portraits.

I've been lucky enough to have worked with some world-renowned photographers and artists, in many different countries and locations, yet some of my favourite images were taken by enthusiastic beginners. I am available for work with photographers, painters and artists of various media, whether amateur hobbiests or experienced industry professionals, for exhibitions, commercial publication or just portfolio building. (I'm never interested in anything remotely 'adult' or degrading.) If you'd like to consider hiring me for your project, please email me at: ellarosemuse@live.co.uk.

My life-long love of dance (I have trained in various/most styles from the age of 3) allows me to use my body awareness to add creativity, expressive lines, grace, character and emotion to images I'm involved with.

This blog is a little diary of my adventures and a fun way for me to share my latest images week by week (and help myself keep track of what I get up to!). Thanks for dropping by! Don't forget to say hi in the comments area, or by email (ellarosemuse@live.co.uk)... Often I struggle to decide which images out of a collection are my favourites; feel free to let me know yours!

Walter De La Mare, 'The Listeners'

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,

Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses

Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,

Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;

‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;

No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,

Where he stood perplexed and still.

But only a host of phantom listeners

That dwelt in the lone house then

Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight

To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,

That goes down to the empty hall,

Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken

By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,

Their stillness answering his cry,

While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,

’Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even

Louder, and lifted his head:—

‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word,’ he said.

Never the least stir made the listeners,

Though every word he spake

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house

From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,

And the sound of iron on stone,

And how the silence surged softly backward,

When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Natasha Khan/Bat for Lashes, 'Horse and I'

Got woken in the night,
by a mystic golden light.
My head soaked in river water.
I had been dressed in a coat of armor. They called
a horse out of the woodland.
"Take her there, through the desert shores."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear.
You're the chosen one, there's no turning back now."

The smell of redwood giants.
The banquet for the shadows.
Horse and I, we're dancers in the dark.
Came upon the headdress.
It was gilded, dark and golden.
The children sang.
I was so afraid I took it to my head and prayed.
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."
They sang to me, "This is yours to wear. You're the chosen one, there's no turning back."

Mark Doty, 'A Display of Mackerel'

They lie in parallel rows,

on ice, head to tail,

each a foot of luminosity

barred with black bands,

which divide the scales’

radiant sections

like seams of lead

in a Tiffany window.

Iridescent, watery

prismatics: think abalone,

the wildly rainbowed

mirror of a soapbubble sphere,

think sun on gasoline.

Splendor, and splendor,

and not a one in any way

distinguished from the other

—nothing about them

of individuality. Instead

they’re all exact expressions

of the one soul,

each a perfect fulfilment

of heaven’s template,

mackerel essence. As if,

after a lifetime arriving

at this enameling, the jeweler’s

made uncountable examples,

each as intricate

in its oily fabulation

as the one before

Suppose we could iridesce,

like these, and lose ourselves

entirely in the universe

of shimmer—would you want

to be yourself only,

unduplicatable, doomed

to be lost? They’d prefer,

plainly, to be flashing participants,

multitudinous. Even now

they seem to be bolting

forward, heedless of stasis.

They don’t care they’re dead

and nearly frozen,

just as, presumably,

they didn’t care that they were living:

all, all for all,

the rainbowed school

and its acres of brilliant classrooms,

in which no verb is singular,

or every one is. How happy they seem,

even on ice, to be together, selfless,

which is the price of gleaming.

Kate Clanchy, 'Poem for a Man with No Sense of Smell'

This is simply to inform you:

that the thickest line in the kink of my hand
smells like the feel of an old school desk,
the deep carved names worn sleek with sweat;

that beneath the spray of my expensive scent
my armpits sound a bass note strong
as the boom of a palm on a kettle drum;

that the wet flush of my fear is sharp
as the taste of an iron pipe, midwinter,
on a child's hot tongue; and that sometimes,

in a breeze, the delicate hairs on the nape
of my neck, just where you might bend
your head, might hesitate and brush your lips,

hold a scent frail and precise as a fleet
of tiny origami ships, just setting out to sea.

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