I haven't blogged here in forever, and it took me a while to remember my login. These photos were taken last summer (2019) as I travelled around Europe with my family. I had absolutely no intention of modelling when we stumbled on this derelict church in Italy, but this location was too stunning (and deserted) so I couldn't pass up the opportunity, resulting in this rapid collaboration between myself and my partner - him using my camera, no fancy lighting or set-up, and rough edits by myself. I didn't post them at the time, because, well... despite the fact I think they have artistic merit, I also thought I was overweight.
If truth be told, I was (am) not as thin as I used to be (although I have lost weight since these were taken). Nor am I as young or confident as I used to be. But then, a lot has happened since I started modelling. I have always been an actress at heart. My modelling career was intended to fill a financial and creative gap when I couldn't always land work in the competitive acting industry I had dedicated my life to. Inevitably there were gaps when I wasn't working; not because I lacked talent, but because that's just the way it is. I used to call modelling "a static form of acting," and I was surprised when I found success as a model without really trying. It became a means of supporting myself financially, but more importantly, it gave me a creative outlet I desperately needed.
As an actress, I enjoy playing characters that are as far removed from myself as possible. I used to refer to "ERosanne" in the third person - she was just a role I played. But she was also a part of myself I needed. I didn't think of myself as "a model" in my own head, but I needed to know that I could be her, and I had the images to prove it. Using nothing more than my own skin, and my own features, I had the ability to become her if I wanted to. I think I have always lacked self-esteem in myself, particularly working in such a brutal industry where rejection is just a part of daily life, so knowing that I could be ERosanne gave me an inner confidence that reassured me. Especially at times when validation as an actor seemed unattainable.
I modelled from around the age of 21, and I never really gave it up, although there have been gaps when either personal or professional commitments meant that I simply didn't have the time. At times, I was a full-time model (although the actress in me would hate to admit that), and at other times, I would just shoot for creative purposes when circumstance allowed. Somehow, I always managed to keep my modelling identity separate from my personal identity. Partly because, although I have never felt any shame about nude modelling, I always worried that there would be those within the acting industry (and those outside of it) who would look down on me for taking my clothes off. I didn't want society's stigma of being thought of as a failed actress who took her clothes off for a living.
I modelled through everything, over the years, I documented it all. I modelled through near death. I modelled throughout successes and failures. I modelled throughout pregnancy in 2011, and even though I didn't really enjoy pregnancy, I was proud of my body and all that it did to achieve bringing me my wonderful son. I look back on those photos as one of the most creative times of my life (I was unable to work as an actress as soon as I was visibly pregnant, so once again, modelling became my creative life-line). Some of the photos created during my pregnancy with my son are my most popular to date, and I see them as powerful, life-affirming images without vanity, that I am so proud of. To be honest, they wouldn't carry the same impact unless they were nude, and it fascinates and comforts me to know that in my most popular image of all time, I am most definitely not thin!
After I had my son, I took some time out - both from modelling and from acting. I loved being a mother, and I'm glad I spent the early months and years of my young son's life spending time with him when he needed me most. (I hope he remembers when he grows up). And then when I went back to work, my acting actually took off, and once I'd got over some initial hurdles proving that it is indeed possible to be a working actor and a parent (in this day and age, a woman should not have to prove it, but that's the reality), for the last few years I've enjoyed the comparative success of being able to earn a living from doing what I love most. I've occasionally touched on modelling, and I still love checking in to see what other photographers and models I knew are doing, but for the most part, I've been busy doing my first love - singing and acting.
Then in 2017, I had another baby. This time, for reasons I can't entirely explain, I didn't do a single photo-shoot. I felt ill throughout pregnancy, and on some subconscious level, I just didn't want to photograph myself in the same way that I did with my son. Perhaps it was intuition, because when my daughter was born poorly, two months prematurely on 22nd December 2017, she only lived for a few minutes before she died in my arms, and my life imploded. I could write a lot about the impact this had on me, and my love for her. I will forever be a different person, and as long as I live, my daughter will be my default thought. But for the sake of brevity, I will trust you as a reader to understand the impact of losing a child, or if you like, you can honour her by reading more about my daughter Holly Rose, and her brief - but beautiful - little life on my other blog: http://ro-ro-to-fro.blogspot.com/search/label/HollyRose
Her loss didn't just impact me emotionally. Her birth and death were sudden, unexpected, and traumatic. I had a Ceasarian-section I never wanted in an attempt to save her life, when it became obvious that something was terribly wrong. I suffered PTSD and memory loss after losing her, but on top of all that, I had physical scars and alterations to remind myself how my body failed me and her, every time I looked in a mirror. I had uncontrollable panic attacks that led to taking SSRIs for a year. These can have the side-effect of weight gain, and I gained weight. To this day, I have no sensation in my abdomen, and although the scar from the C-Section has faded, I will never physically or mentally be the same again. I am learning to accept that.
As part of my journey of acceptance, I wanted to take control over the fact that my body had irreparably changed, and I now have tattoos that are meaningful to me. They are symbolic, and they represent things that are a part of my life and always will be. (These photos don't really feature them much or do them justice, but I love them. They are part of who I am now). They were a way of regaining some say over the way I look, having been subjected to so many life-altering circumstances I couldn't control.
When I modelled in earlier years, I used to believe that I wasn't just doing it for myself, but that I was empowering other women - to help them accept themselves. Looking back over my portfolio, the irony is not entirely lost on me. I naively thought I was representative back then of a body shape that isn't often portrayed in marketing or in the media. I look back and realise I was far closer to the "ideal" than I ever believed of myself. It's easy to convince yourself that you're selling the message anybody can look beautiful when you are, in fact, young and beautiful. It's not quite so easy when you're not so young and beautiful, and your body bears the scars of a life that has not always been kind.
At this time of my life, suddenly the world crisis that is COVID-19 has brought my acting career to a complete and abrupt stand-still. My son and my family give me my reason to live - I am lucky to have them, and will always be eternally grateful. Since the loss of my daughter, throwing myself into my acting career had unexpectedly brought me solace and helped me to heal, and to find myself again. Career-wise, things had actually been going well, and I had a reasonable balance between work and home life that made me feel... validated.
Now that I find myself without the possibility of the acting career I love for the foreseeable future, it's a strange thing. But I've suddenly found the answer to why ERosanne ever existed. I know now why I needed her, and I know why I needed to post the images of her - of me - to the wider world. It wasn't about attention. But it was about validation. I needed others to look at her - at me - and validate my existence at times when I felt worthless. When people appreciate my art nude modelling work, I suppose I feel validated at the most basic level - laid bare, as it were. When my life and my career were all going swimmingly, I didn't need her as much - I found validation elsewhere. But she was always in me somewhere, I could access her if I needed to.
It took me years to answer that question. At this time, I am once again without an artistic outlet, and I find that even with all of the imperfections I had to begin with, and all of the imperfections I've gained since; I miss ERosanne. I need to know that, imperfect as I am, she is still a part of me; that I am still capable of being her; that who I once was is still a part of who I am now.
Art nude was always my way of feeling validated, but it's taken me years to figure that out. Today I looked at these images of myself taken last summer, that I didn't post at the time because I thought I was overweight. If ever there was a time that I need to feel validated, that time is now. So I'm posting them now in the hope of rediscovering a little bit of who I used to be, and who I probably still am.
