"Create your own visual style ... let it be unique for yourself and yet identifiable for others." Orson Welles
... auteur | provocateur | stylist | visionary
My earliest memory of lusting after a pop babe came in the form of Luv', a manufactured trio from the Netherlands, that had a couple of disco hits, namely Trojan Horse. That crush didn’t last long, then along came Dale Bozzio from Los Angeles new wave outfit Missing Persons (Lady Ga Ga, hello?) and their one-hit wonder Destination Unknown. After buying the 12" single to Sex (I'm a ...) by Berlin, another new wave group of the City of Angels, I fell for Terri Nunn, especially after she had that blonde and black hairdo which she sported in the video clip to No More Words. Later still I got the hots for Susanna Hoffs from The Bangles, and that sexy sideways glance she gave in the video clip to Walk Like an Egyptian.
All those pop babes smouldered, and I was smitten. But those lovely ladies have got nuthin’ on the foxes of today’s music scene, I mean these babes of pop are positively smokin’! From R&B to dance, electro-pop to pop-folk, these are pop’s finest-looking divas indeed. Whether it be a svelte Latin hussy like Shakira, a bombshell blonde like Avril, a buxom brunette like Mutya, or Afrodite herself, Erykah.
It was hard keeping the selection limited to my usual twenty-four; a few gorgeous girls didn’t make the cut, while twins were counted as one, and one curvaceous starlet had to be included as an honoury pop babe, even though she’s actually a DJ (and before that a porn star from Hungary). So without further adieu here are the current babes of pop that rock my world.
For the name of the pop babe (and group) scroll cursor over each respective picture.
I'm such a sucker for the R&B babes; they ooze sensuality - basically they ooze sex, and I lap it up. What can I say? I love the darker berries. So which is the sweetest juice? Rihanna, Ciara, Beyonce, Shakira, they're all divine. But I also love the English roses; Cheryl, Kimberley, and Tina. Mind you the Irish cream, Una, is silky smooth. But not forgetting the honoury Eastern European pop babe: Niki Bellucci ... now there's a pair of headphones!
Paul Newman was not only a fantastic actor, but he was also a great human being. But that’s been said a thousand times. His devotion as a husband was the stuff of Hollywood legend. He made a pretty darn good salad dressing. He wasn’t too shabby behind the wheel of a racing car. And he was a fabulous humanitarian.
The camera loved him too.
Paul Leonard Newman was born in 1925 and died last year of lung cancer. At 83 he lived a long life for someone who smoked heavily for a considerable part of it. He is survived by his second wife Joanne Woodward and five daughters (his only son died of a drug overdose in 1978). His marriage to Joanne lasted nearly fifty years. No other Hollywood couple can make that kind of claim.
Newman began his Hollywood movie career in 1954 and he continued acting up until 2007 (another claim few Hollywood actors can stake). He won one Academy Award for The Colour of Money, although he should’ve won it for numerous other films such as The Hustler, one of my favourite movies. His most famous roles were “cowboys”; Hud, Eddie Felson (The Hustler, The Colour of Money), Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy, Gondorff (The Sting), and in a rusty kind of way, Frank Galvin (The Verdict).
It was Newman’s ruggedly handsome face with his piercing blue eyes that made women fall weak at the knees and men muttering envy under their breath. Yet, he charmed us all, time and time again. In latter years when asked why he never fell prey to all the starlets who would throw themselves at his feet, Newman responded, “Why go out for hamburger when you’ve got steak at home?” A golden answer from a golden man.
Paul Newman, may your blue eyes twinkle forever on that big silver screen in the sky.
Miss ya Paul! My favourite pic here is the "steak and kidney" profile shot. I love all the black and white photographs, especially the ones taken by Leo Fuchs. My other favourites would be two of Paul as Cool Hand Luke (shirt off, star of David necklace) and Paul as Butch Cassidy, he wears that hat and threads so well. The arty chain-link fence pic shot by Dennis Hopper is superb. I also love the pics of him with wife Joanne Woodward, they exude a true love.
It might sound a little unusual, but I received my most formative sexual education from within the pages of Penthouse magazine, Bob Guccione’s International Magazine for Men, which was founded in England in 1965, but came to prominence once it was launched in America in 1969. It went on to become the preeminent hardened softcore American sex magazine of the 70s, riding the crest between the creamy, coy softcore of Hugh Hefner’s Playboy magazine and the sleazy, over-lit, hardcore of Larry Flynt’s Hustler magazine.
The inaugural U.S. edition September 1969
Whereas Hefner was a journalist, Guccione was a photographer (and Flynt was an opportunist filthmonger). Hefner’s Playmate’s were frequently blonde and the pictorials often looked the same. Guccione’s Pets were often brunettes (mmmmm) and the pictorials were far more erotically adventurous. Playboy might have enjoyed a wider social limelight, especially with Hefner’s Playboy Mansion, but Penthouse possessed a more complex sense of mischief (Caligula being one such venture) and was altogether more alluring.
However, despite the sensational pictorials, it was Penthouse Forum that provided me with so much insight into the adult world of seduction and sexual behaviour. As a budding adolescent I learned all the lingo from those dirty-minded and explicit letters to the Forum editor (years later I came to realise that most of them were fake, but hey, they read good).
Venus on the half-shell
I recently discovered a site that had pics of Penthouse covers, a reasonably comprehensive gallery from 1969 through to present day (though some faves were missing). Looking at the covers I was suddenly transported back to my father’s art studio (where he had his collection stashed). All these memories came spurting, er, gushing, er … flooding back. I realised from looking at the stylish images of erotic femininity on the covers of so many of these issues, and comparing them to the current covers of Penthouse from the last decade or so that I’d seen in shops or wherever, that they simply don’t shoot them like they used to.
Hot Summer, but no nude cigar
Never did find out if her cuffs matched her collar
There is definitely a period where Penthouse magazine was easily the sexiest magazine on the shelves. I’m talking about the allure of the cover here, not necessarily the pictorials inside, and often the woman portrayed on the cover wasn’t featured in a pictorial on the inside (but on numerous occasions reader’s – or should that be viewer’s – demand decided the woman on the cover would end up in a pictorial on a later issue.
Bowler hats never looked so cum hither
I perused the monthly covers of all the issues of Penthouse from 1969 into the 90s, and it became apparent that the aesthetics of the fashion (clothes, hair, makeup) and photographic techniques (composition, lighting, props) changed considerably. I lost interest in the late 80s. The very best covers were from the mid-70s to the mid-80s. The women were voluptuous, the colours were sexy, the poses were erotic … and there was bush. Call me old-fashioned, but I dig bush. Not necessarily big bush, but I think a pubic mound on a woman is a direct erotic statement. It says "I am woman", not "I am girl". But the pubic hair debate is another kettle of fish I guess …
So without further adieu, here is my selection of some of the very best covers that graced Penthouse magazine chronologically from 1969 to 1987; the Lush Years, as I like to fondly them.
I love 'em all, even though some of my other favourites I couldn't include because I couldn't find scanned images of them. Yes, I'm old school, but damn, these covers arer undeniably sexy, and frequently downright erotic. Playboy covers were never this good. Even Euro-styled mag Oui couldn't compete. Bob Guccione had an eye for the seriously alluring. Bless his cotton socks. Oh, and my very, very favourites amongst these? Scroll your cursor over pics: July 1971, July 1975, November 1977, August 1979, June 1982, April 1984, July 1985 ... sheesh, I can't stop myself, I even broke my Rule of 24, heh, heh.
I know, I know, it’s been too long between exhibitions. I have no excuse. Well, actually I do. I was partying my ass off, as you do over the silly season. But I shouldn’t have neglected my blog for so long. I do apologise. The Raoulmeister is back! And the heat is on!
So, to make up for it, I’m gonna shut the fuck up, and let these sensational images speak volumes in magnificent black and white, because at the end of the day, as gorgeous as colour is, monochrome separates the gentlemen from the lads, the ladies from the ladettes … if you get my drift.
It's a melange of styles and content, I know, but I'm still recovering from the intensely hedonistic pursuits of the silly season ... not to mention being caught up in this Australian heatwave that is sweeping through the Eastern states. I guess the sensuality of the period is reflected in the images I've selected. My favourites? I love the Lauren Bentley nude and the fashiontastic pose of Moran Atias. I love the Bill Brandt and Tina Modotti pictures. But my absolute favourite is the man leaping with the birds flying overhead, now that is something else indeed. Hey, Happy New Year!
I’m not gonna beat around the bush (although it is a favourite naughty pastime of mine), I’m a sucker for a pretty face. My lover’s visage is as beautiful as the Mediterranean sun that beats down upon my brow and glistens on her warm lagoon-wet skin, but I’ve already posted a pic of her, so I’m going to indulge in other women today.
Yes, no men allowed. As handsome as so many are, this post in the faces series is strictly for the ladies, the women, the feminine contours of the female face. The high cheekbones, the luscious lips, the alluring eyes, the sleek arch of the eyebrow, the smooth aquiline nose, the subtle curvature of the ear, the sumptuous nape of the neck; all these attribute to the beauty that is the face of a beautiful woman
"My body is so important to me... my face, my arms, my legs, my hands, my eyes, everything. I use everything I have."
Monica Bellucci is without a doubt one of the very sexiest woman ever to slink across the silver screen. But not just in the movies, she also commands every page of every fashion or lifestyle magazine she has ever been spread across. She oozes sex appeal. She has a classic hourglass figure and she radiates an unbridled sensuality
A femme fatale is an alluring and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers in bonds of irresistible desire, often leading them into compromising, dangerous, and deadly situations. She is an archetypal character of literature and art. Her ability to entrance and hypnotize her male victim was in the earliest stories seen as being literally supernatural, hence the most prosaic femme fatale today is still described as having a power akin to an enchantress, vampire, female monster or demon. The ideas involved are closely tied to fears of the female witch.
The phrase is French for "deadly woman". A femme fatale tries to achieve her hidden purpose by using feminine wiles such as beauty, charm, and sexual allure. Typically, she is exceptionally well-endowed with these qualities. In some situations she uses lying or coercion rather than charm. She may also be (or imply to be) a victim, caught in a situation from which she cannot escape. Her characteristic weapon, if needed, is frequently poison, which also serves as a metaphor for her charms.
It was my Orble first birthday last month and I plumb forgot to celebrate! How absent-minded of me indeed! It happens a lot in this ridiculously fast-moving society we live in; important events pass us by simply because we’re too caught up in the unnecessary stress of the day-to-day grind.
So I thought I’d indulge in a little belated Orble birthday present to myself (since no one else is likely to come to the party!), and compile a list of some of my favourite things. Of course, it’s hard limiting a birthday wish list just to twenty-four “items”, so I’ve taken the liberty of breaking my own Rule of 24. I’ve made a list of twenty-five. Ha-hah!
Siren (noun). A seductively beautiful or charming woman, esp. one who beguiles men: a siren of the silver screen.
Yes, the siren of the silver screen is a beautiful creature to behold. I'm not talking about the Classical mythology of the half-woman/half-bird that lured men to their deaths with their eerie singing. Although there is an element of mystery and danger in the cinematic siren which is no doubt inspired from the Greek myth
I’m back from my safari expedition! Have ya missed me? Probably not, but not to worry, here’s a little something to get ya’ll excited about! Yup, it’s the beauty battle of the two Jess’s!
We’re not talking about their respective acting chops, this is a blog on visual aesthetics, so it’s their loins we’re more interested in. How do they scrub up? Do they look good in denim? Do they need much make-up? Are they spunky as well as sexy? Do they give good style? How much does the camera love them
They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. I like that concept. I’ve always been a soulful man. And I find eyes are one of the most attractive parts of the human anatomy. They can be so expressive, yet can also keep one’s personality so elusive.
If you’ve been a regular visitor to my blog of visual aesthetics you’ll be well aware I’ve not been around much of late. I’ve had my hands full so to speak, my eyes in a locked groove, and I’m about to become even more aloof. I go on safari this week. I’ll be away from these here shores for quite some time. Well, long enough for it to feel like I’ve abandoned my blog.
I’ve never been one to cellar wine. I always tend to drink it when I’ve got it. And so, with that as a vague analogy, what I’m saying is there won’t be any Style of Eye posts for several weeks (not that there’s been many in the past few anyhow
He’s one of my favourite actors, and also a damn fine-looking fellow too. Not a bad singer, and doesn’t look too shabby with mascara and false eyelashes on either. Johnny Depp is arguably one of the two or three finest actors of his generation, for me up there with Sean Penn and Christian Bale, who also happen to be attractive men who work hard at being compelling chameleons on the big screen.
And that’s what makes Johnny Depp so damn interesting. He doesn’t follow convention, often appearing in arthouse films or movies with a subversive or provocative edge. I remember about ten years ago reading how a film lecturer in the States was running a university course on The Films of Keanu Reeves. I was like, what the fuck?! Keanu Reeves can’t act his way out of a paper bag. He's good-looking in a very bland kind of way, but his film choices leave a lot to be desired (River’s Edge, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, and the first Matrix movie are the only ones where I’ve enjoyed watching him
Mo’ of the mug! The selction is mostly actors, but a couple or so from outside the thespian square. No matter how good your acting chops are, if you don’t photograph well, fuggidaboudit!
There’s the smile, the teeth, the eyes, the brows, there’s the chin, the dimples (or not), there’s the cheekbones, the lips, the ears, there’s the haircut, the frown, or perhaps the quizzical gaze, and then there’s the cheeky smirk