Time slows down, the light smoothes out surfaces, seeps
into old closets, drawers, and underneath the beds;
dries the pillow’s saliva, abrogates the winding of the stairs,
puts words in iambic order. And now the man
who had only a long, threadbare coat to hide
inglorious scars, the grey hairs, is obliged
to stand naked in the light, pretending to be
the statue of a youth, over whose marble curls
some fatuous passerby has thrown a beat-up straw hat
with ribbons and wax cherries from immemorial summers.
[via My Modern Metropolis]
Photographer Lewis Morley recalls the photo session which led to the creation of a modern icon:
‘This photograph was one of a series of publicity shots for an intended film which never saw the light of day… During the session, three rolls of 120 film were shot. The first two rolls had Christine sitting in various positions on the chair and on the floor, dressed in a small leather jerkin.
It was at this point that the film producers who were in attendance demanded she strip for some nude photos. Christine was reluctant to do so, but the producers insisted, saying that it was written in her contract.
The situation became rather tense and reached an impasse. I suggested that everyone, including my assistant leave the studio. I turned my back to Christine, telling her to disrobe, sit back to front on the chair. She was now nude, fulfilling the conditions of the contract, but was at the same time hidden.
‘We repeated some of the poses used on the previous two rolls of film. I rapidly exposed some fresh positions, some angled from the side and a few slightly looking down. I felt that I had shot enough and took a couple of paces back.
Looking up I saw what appeared to be a perfect positioning. I released the shutter one more time, in fact, it was the last exposure on the roll of film.’