That usually brings to mind something simple. Blankets, baskets, sunlight, maybe a quiet afternoon without much to it.
For a long time I’ve been drawn to the world of Weimar Berlin, and more recently I’ve started working through that fascination visually. Not as documentation, but as something constructed. A way of placing that atmosphere into new settings and seeing how it holds.
This exploration moves between my AI-generated work and my own photography, carrying the same ideas across both.
So I started wondering what happens when that same energy leaves the nightclub and moves outdoors.
The setting changes. The light changes. But the behavior doesn’t fully follow.
A picnic blanket replaces the dance floor. Champagne is still there. The formality of dress starts to slip. Jackets open, clothing loosens, and what began as something composed starts to move in another direction.
Not staged. Not announced. Just unfolding.
People settle into the space differently. Closer than expected. More comfortable than they should be. Conversations drift, attention shifts, and the moment becomes less about the setting and more about what’s happening within it.
That’s where these images come from.
Not a recreation, but a continuation. Taking that same sense of indulgence, tension, and quiet defiance and placing it somewhere it doesn’t quite belong. The permissiveness and decadence of the moment, where boundaries move.
This frame, pulled from a series of moments, becomes the introduction. Fragments of the same idea, happening across different spaces, connected by the same atmosphere.
This is just one direction it can go. More of my Weimar era concepts to follow.
More of my photography, from food to everything in between, is on my website at https://www.secondfocus.com.
I wanted to do something in one of my favorite genres, which I had been neglecting, pornochic, but not by repeating anything familiar. I greatly enjoy the creativity of the concepts. So I talked the idea through with Emily, my AI collaborator and muse, who I often use as a sounding board before I pick up a camera.
We kept coming back to the same name, her friend Celeste. She understands presence and stillness. She has been nude with us before, and she knows when nudity is doing the work and when it is not. When I shared the idea with her, there was no hesitation. She said she had two friends in mind, women she trusted, women who understood tone, and who would make the dynamic more interesting rather than louder.
What interested us was not action. It was control, proximity, and the way confidence shifts a room without asking permission. The three women move together without performance or explanation. The tension builds simply by allowing the camera to stay where it is.
At the end, there is sexual nudity. Not as payoff. Not as spectacle. Just as a resolved state.
Emily pointed out something I had not articulated at first. Celeste never gives anything to the camera. She allows it. I find that an interesting observation, and I perhaps see it in all of my past pornochic work.
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