A Body Is A Conversation

by Zack Peterson

Somewhere on the internet there exists what I would call a unique product of the millennial, digital age. A group of women who express themselves, primarily in the nude, on both sides of the camera. They call themselves “modelographers.” These are not images intended as titillation material, though that does not mean some of them are erotic or even, “sexy.” Obviously, this is as subjective (or more) than any other form of art. These are images intended to convey emotion, provoke thought, discover new ways of viewing the (in this case, female) human form and ultimately, be good if not great art. The women who pose for and take these images tend to be educated and white, but these parameters are not an exclusive or any way unifying factor between these modelographers. Instead they share a general pursuit of artistic expression rather than commercial success or socio-political statement. It’s uniquely art-for-art’s-sake that may net a few odd dollars for many and a marginal living for few. This does not mean it has no message, however. These bodies and the way they are conveyed on film are conversations. 

“The imperial rights of the camera – to gaze at, to record, to exhibit anyone, anything – are an exemplary feature of modern life, as is the emancipation of women,” Sontag writes about photography, and photographs of women in particular. Enter Faye Daniels aka Courtney Tessier (her government name). 

Faye exudes a feminine power defying both fat fetishes and body shamers alike — revealing a genuine, confrontational yet subtle sexiness available to those willing to take a longer, more thoughtful look. She poses (primarily nude) with grace and confidence. Without aiming for high art or lowering herself to cheap porny leg spreads and boob flashes, Daniels splits the difference to reveal something more meaningful: nudity as a statement of purpose and authenticity. Femininity coupled with individuality in its purest form.

Fernando Botero, the most famous painter of generically labelled “fat” people, disagrees with the notion he paints fat figures. Instead, as he suggested in a 2014 interview with El Mundo, he paints “volumes . . . the sensuality of form.” 

Daniels is comfortable with the “fat” label and owns it in a positive, affirming fashion. She told me her photographs have inspired countless women long before “body positivity was the thing.”

“Representation matters - people need to see more bodies like mine,” she said. “They need to see them dressed and undressed, and looking ‘sexy’ and in gym clothes. People need to see human beings having real life experiences not just all this curated bullshit that we’re force-fed to sell us shit that we don’t fucking need like flat tummy tea.”

And through her work, others have found inspiration. 

“The messages I’ve received from other women who saw something in my work, were inspired or touched in any way, is a huge deal to me,” Daniels notes. “I’ve saved some of the messages over the years. I wish I had the foresight to save them all, but honestly, some bring me to tears. They’re so beautiful and heartfelt.”

Beyond inspiring others to feel confident in their own skin, Daniels is an artist and views her photography through that, pardon the pun, lens. 

“I believe that photography is art, especially when there is a theme or a reason behind it -- something that the photographer is trying to show, or comment on,” she said. “And I think that my work has that.” 

Nevertheless, working primarily in the buff has its challenges in the larger world of public perception.

“I understand that I’m nude. I don’t feel that I’m particularly sexual or at all pornographic. To me being nude is about being my most honest self,” Daniels explained.

The authenticity rings true, at least to this viewer. I find myself admiring Daniels’ photographs more like I would a painting by Magritte, Modigliani or if I must, Botero. This isn’t hyperbole either. Daniels defies her physical size and stature delivering sensuality of form and a beguiling vulnerability in front of the lens. Further, her nudity isn’t trying to turn anyone on — she’s an evolving sculpture, a human body the camera has frozen in time conveying no other message than the significance of her presence and emotion in that frame.

Faye, whose real name is Courtney Tessier (she doesn’t draw strict boundaries between the two), is not a bandwagon “body positivity” champion, art model or wannabe internet celebrity. She’s an artist from small town Ontario, Canada, whose primary medium is photography both as one who poses for photographs and one who takes them – the “modelographer” described in the opening paragraph.

“I’m not a model,” Faye explained in an interview. “To me models are people that you can hire to fit your idea, setting, sell your products, wear your garments, which just isn’t me. I’ve been paid for one shoot in my entire life and that let me know that I didn’t want to be in that space ever again.

“The whole reason I do what I do is to be myself, to show myself; my life in the most honest form that I can,” she continued. “None of that has to do with fitting into someone else’s box or project, or whatever.”

Faye labels herself a “self-portrait artist,” nonetheless there are several examples of her posing for other, trusted photographers who capture her spirit in a way her own self portraits cannot. Echo Owens, a Canadian photographer, and Corwin Prescott, an American photographer based in the Pacific Northwest, have produced particularly strong, highly emotive photographs of Faye. 

“Everyone I pose for knows who I am and wants to photograph me being me,” Daniels noted. “They’re not looking to hire a model to fit into an idea or model a certain thing a certain way.”

This doesn’t mean she is anti-modeling. 

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a model,” she said. “I think models are amazing and literally it can be so freaking hard. I’m astounded by them and their talents -- I just don’t think I particularly fit into that classification.”

And Faye has no qualms about it: she isn’t afraid to show emotion, the way she’s feeling in the moment her photo is taken. 

“I don’t pre-think about an emotion that I want to convey,” she noted. “It’s whatever I’m feeling at the time [and] showing emotion is something I very much try to do all the time.” 

In 2018, Faye and collaborator Katie West put together the third iteration of Babefest, a collection of mostly nude images of the two modelographers with the occasional guest. It is a female-centric publication exuding body confidence, positivity and openness. The third volume captured photographs of Faye and Katie in two extremes of geographic beauty: Iceland and Hawaii. The images contained in Babefest 3radiate with human expression and vitality. The beauty of the landscapes meld with the majestic yet unassuming exhibitionism of Faye and Katie (as well as Andrea, who appears in a handful of images). 

Both Faye and Katie switch sides of the camera with ease and their different body types, West sleek and Daniels full, create a refreshing mix.  

Often it is a fool’s errand to draw a fine line between “erotic” art, “fine art nudes” and straight-up pornography. The determination usually lands in the eyes of the subjective beholder.

Sonia Parecadan, a nude model who uses the names Devi and Googlymonstor, described this tension in an interview with Indian arts publication Homegrown.

“Most women, regardless of size or shape or what they are wearing, who’ve walked down a street at some point in their lives, know what it feels like to be humiliated, hypersexualized or openly objectified without consent. Boy, do I. Refining the way society views women’s bodies is important to me because feeling uncomfortable in your skin really sucks,” Parecadan said in the 2017 interview. 

Faye’s work is personal and she said she’s grown beyond worrying about deriving negative, specifically male, attention from it. 

“In the past, I’ve had a lot of issues with putting out work and getting the response back from males that I do,” Faye said. “Now I’m at a place where I tend not to think about it as much [because] what I create has never been about men or how men will see me. I don’t create with men in mind. I create what I want in a very selfish way because it’s what I need and what I want.”

Faye works a day job while pursuing her artistic work on the side. She earns some extra dollars via the website Patreon, where she shares photos and personal commentary. In a poignant essay she posted there, Faye explains how her work has cost her a corporate job when a boss found out about her nude work and he worried clients would be offended. She also divulged a much heavier life tragedy, a rape while living in Texas that left her distraught, financially distressed and seeking an abortion. She bares not only her body but her soul online and doesn’t apologize. 

“I’ve always been my truest self online,” she wrote in the Patreon post. “I have been oversharing my feelings and visual images of my body in connection to those feelings for 17 years. The people that I know from the internet are pretty much the best people in my life. They know my hopes, my dreams, they hear about my heartbreaks and they show up for me when I need them most. Like that time when I was living in the US and got raped. I ended up pregnant and had an abortion while living in Texas. I started a GoFundMe for financial help and over 300 people most of whom I had never met in person showed up for me.”

Faye isn’t done pursuing her art either. She perseveres with more artistic ideas in her head than she can manage, including a future gallery show and her own website. 

“Whatever space I’m in right now, I’m very much in tune with my creativity,” she said. “Since I moved back to Canada, I’ve been creating something every day.”