Models come in to an artist’s life, but they rarely stay. Since I’ve started drawing erotic nudes, and because of the transient nature of DC, quite a few men who have allowed me to stare at them while I drag a pencil lazily across paper have come and gone.

New models come, some return, most don’t, as for a lot of the men I draw, time moves on, as do careers, tastes, desires, etc.

I am honored that for a time, some truly lovely men, both in the bodies they present to the world, and the kind, gentle souls that run beneath that ever fleeting moment, where the light hits them and illuminates, and leaves the viewer struggling to concentrate, but still attempting to capture and record a moment, in a way that is passing from this world as we point the lens of our little computers at what we see and press a projected button on a screen.

…in the fond hope of capturing a moment only a little less bright and slightly less beautiful than the reality of the moment, and the ever blurred and romanticised memory that echoes through our minds.