Danny DevriendtFollow @dannydevriendt
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Category Archives: Reflexions
There is a day for everything these days. I cannot open my computer, or people will be shooting at me with all kinds of reflective pieces of wisdom, smartly connected to whatever the flavor-of-this-particular national day is. It makes me a bit tired. Pontifex abduction day. Mothers day… fathers day… Why, o why do I need a special day to honor my parents? By papal decree, should I give my mom flowers because some committee decided moms deserve a day all to themselves? And what about international Nutella day (Feb 5th)? Or the International Nurses Day? (May 12th)? Do I hug all nurses?
January 8th is Elvis Presley day (no kidding). September 19th is Talk-like-a-pirate day. In June there is Shoe day. What about Global Handwashing Day (Oct 15th). God, I hope it is hand washing day EVERY day. There is International Pasta day (oct 25th). As said, it makes me grumpy, tired. Must be my status of middle(r)aged man. I hate international days of whatever…
Tomorrow is Valentine’s day. The day of love. People all over the planet are heating up their credit cards, hunting for sweets, flowers, silky lingerie, diamonds, cars, Chihuahua dogs, fur gloves and selected bottles of scotch. I see couples who have not spoken a kind word to each other in ages, book a table at the local Michelin starred restaurant. Because February 14th is Valentine’s day. The day of showing your love to your loved one. Va Savoir. You have all year for that. I hope.
Valentine’s day turned into a very unloving multi-billion dollar industry that thrives on red, pink, soft, bubbles and candle light. It has nothing to do with love. I spent 9 of the last 14 Valentine’s days at a technology exhibition, where I saw multiple business people give instructions to their personal assistants to arrange flowers for their significant others. For a lot of them, sending flowers or sweets did not hinder them a bit in flirting their way into new beds…
Valentine’s day. One of these days. It gives me the creeps. Call me a cynic, but with all of the expensive, glittering, sparkling, and bubbly gifts that will be bought and offered tomorrow –(often just to buy a clear conscience for the lack of genuine love the rest of the year)- my vote goes to International Mistress/Lovers day. No mistress/lover celebrates Valentine’s day. Ever. That is for the legal, official spouses and significant others. International Mistress and Lovers day is February 13th , today, the day before the crazy global extravaganza of love. That, my sweet friends, says it all.
I will now curl into a furry ball, and wait till the glitter parade is over. February 15th is Galileo day.
I see you. I see what you do. Your books are on my shelves. Mitt Romney would call it binders full of women. It must be tough, getting all these great looking girls in various stages of undressing in front of your professional camera-eye. I know, I understand, it IS work. But admit, it beats cleaning lavatories by a monsterous margin.
I admire your savoir-faire, your métier: the eye for detail, perfect lighting, the choice of angle and accessory. You have great skill, close to perfect craftsmanship. But only… each time another of your black-and-white pictures checks into my Facebook stream, I feel a little less oomph,…. that is a sad sign that the magic is dying Frank.
I think it’s your subject: girls. When I browse through your work, I see pages and pages and pages of skinny, perfect, young girls. You pick them, what, between 18 and 25? Caucasian, Easter European? Untainted by life, with all kinds of perfect sizes for a harmonious tailored young puppet. Nice. Smooth. But no soul.
Apparently, you think people are not lining up to see models nearing 40, or steaming 50-wards. I beg to differ. Showing off your skill with girls in their early twenties is easy, and does not do your magic any justice. How about real women, Frank? Moms, women who work, saw life-in-action. Women with breasts, hips, houses, dogs, cats, kids, jobs, sorrow, happiness, mortgages, husbands, lovers and ex’s? Women with curves, lines, personalities and history? How about portraying the radiant energy of a mother of two in one shot? Or the cool mystery of a 40 something?
Here’s a free idea, call your next book 40licious. I’ll buy a signed copy.