I've always had an appreciation for the female form, starting when I was just a kid. I think the first time I remember feeling that spark was when I fell head over little-kid heels for Lea Thompson in All the Right Moves, Rebecca De Mornay in Risky Business, and Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon. I mean, come on—those were some iconic crushes. Women are stunning, and what fascinates me is how incredibly different they all are, whether it's their hair, eyes, facial features, or, yes, legs and personality.
Movies were my first window into appreciating women in all their varied forms and personas. Then came art. My parents were pretty open-minded when it came to art, so our house had statues of Roman and Greek goddesses scattered around. We even had a replica of Michelangelo's David, though I was way more interested in the other statues—y'know, the ones that captured the essence of someone I couldn’t quite understand yet.
As I got older, my interest grew. I wanted to understand the beauty of women even more, which led me to the 'photography' found in magazines. Let’s just say, whether it was catalogs, women's magazines, Playboys, or actual photography books, I was a curious student. During college, I spent a summer in D.C. and visited the art galleries there. It was a revelation—seeing those incredible artworks of women brought something new that photography didn't. I could almost feel the artist's intent, the effort to depict not just what a woman looked like, but what she meant.
That feeling stuck with me, and it still does. When I go to art galleries or museums, I'm drawn to those classic paintings of female nudes—Botticelli, Goya, Bouguereau, Courbet, Frieseke—you name it. It might make my fiancé sigh or roll her eyes, but she really doesn’t need to worry. My admiration is just about the beauty of form, and honestly, to me, she’s the original masterpiece.
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