We had the whole shoot planned out.
A few outfits.
Maybe a quick change of hair.
An old pinterest board.
Then something changed.
Maybe it was the 14 hour drive from LA.
Maybe it was trust in this new relationship.
A few hours in, she turned to me with a smirk.
"What if I'm nude in the photos? Do we really need clothes?".
I somehow calmly confirmed that I in fact agreed.
But I'd never photographed a nude model before,
much less one that was my girlfriend.
And certainly not in a National Monument.
Do NOT fuck this up, I thought.
Yet once we arrived, my misplaced angst vanished.
Our bare feet skated over the selenite-packed white sands while a gusting breeze danced in our ears.
We realized there was no wrong answer. Our creative desires were set free,
roaming the pristine textures under the desert sun.
