Some of you have wondered what type of thing I am doing with the classes this semester. Here are a couple of posters I have created for an Exhibition of Stefan Sagmeister's work (fictitious). If you are unfamiliar with his work, you might want to Google him. He is strange sort of bird in many ways.

You can't imagine how embarrassing either of these were to get.

I was in a local antique store a few weeks back and found a treasure box full of old lead type sorts, used for letterpress printing. I knew I had to have them since one of the subjects I teach is typography. Little did I know they would end up on a poster with my backside showing. Yes…I must confess I didn't realise it, but I have a pimply backside! I really didn't want to be the model but I couldn't find any willing persons to drop their trousers and smile. It was fun asking a few innocent bystanders on the street, but I was afraid it might be misunderstood so I had to give up on the idea. This area is so conservative. All I wanted was a little bit of butt!  I promised the photographer that their name would appear nowhere, so I cannot reveal who helped me with this. I sketched out the ideas and arranged the letters as I wanted them and then found a willing person to help me execute my concept.

I proudly dropped my drawers and with a smile laid down on the bed, like any respectable model would do. After a number of shoots and Peanut (my boxer) who desperately wanted to be in the image, I took my camera, reluctantly covered myself and took them to the computer to look. Lighting was an issue and so off with the pants again. This time I laid on the floor and was careful to draw the curtains in my office as I didn't need any more excuses for the neighbours to talk. With lights properly set we proceeded with the second round. After retrieving the lost letters sliding into my crack I must confess I was beginning to enjoy this (maybe a little too much).

Back to the computer I loaded the images and now the lights revealed something I had not known. I had a pimply butt. OH MY GOD. I never look there. I wonder if pimple cream for faces works on your bare arse? I'll definitely have to check it out.


The toilet photo was particularly exciting. Sagmeister often uses experimental typography in his work, so I knew it would have to be something that pushed me outside of my comfort zone or experience. I used three rolls of toilet roll to create his name. I then went off in my little green car to find the grungiest, dirtiest, most disgusting toilet in town and use them as my background. However, this proved a little difficult. The ones that I find were quite small and would not provide the ability to get everything into the photo that was needed. There were a couple that I found that were not bad, but because these are public toilets I didn't feel it was proper to just go in and start shooting without permission -—besides, this might end up in an arrest! I was denied permission in a few places and I'm sure they thought I was from the health board or something. Working up the courage just to ask was quite a task. And while I consider myself quite an extrovert, it felt a little lot strange asking if I could bring my toilet roll in and shoot their public/private space.

After several denials I found two places. One was in a shower room at a local truck stop, which had toilets in them and a place where truck drivers clean up. The problem with this, believe it or not is that it was too clean and sterile—apart from a couple of creepy truck drivers. The second one (shown) was the last place I found and I had given up with asking permission and decided to risk an arrest for loitering in the men's toilets.

It too was at a truck stop but also quite clean (I dirtied it up in Photoshop). I found a handicapped stall and quickly entered, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. "Perfect, this one might work," I thought to myself. After about a half hour there and a number of different photos and arrangements I felt pretty pleased. With rolls of toilet roll in one hand and the camera bag in the other I exited the stall to find a gentleman standing by the sink with a priceless stare in my direction. It suddenly dawned on me that he must have been there a while because I hadn't heard anyone enter the toilet. I then, trying to avoid eye contact, thought of the clicking sound of the camera, the flashes and the other noises that would undoubtedly have been heard. I have a tendency whenever I am deeply involved in something to talk to myself or make strange noises (so I've been told). I'm sure there were a few 'mmmms' and 'oh yes, that's perfect' comments which escaped from my lips.

Walking ever quicker to the door, I felt obliged to say something or explain the odd behaviour and the only thing I could say then was, "It's an art thing." Still avoiding eye contact until I was outside the door, I turned and looked in his direction. He stood there as still as a mannequin with his mouth half open and glaring at me when the door closed. I held tightly onto my toilet tissue and camera and practically ran to my car. This probably didn't look very good either now that I think about it.