3 Dimensional Art...

People ask what is my favorite type of art to produce and I would have to say 3 dimensional art.  Weather it is hanging on a wall or as a sculpture. Here are some my favorite pieces both old and new:

As always click on the image to zoom in.

Jesus of Suburbia - The last Temptation

24" x 36"

I Gave You A Plant and Look What You Have Done

24" x 24" x 7"

Vampire Teeth

Iron Giant Neck Screw (Actual Size)

Star Trek Phaser (Stereolithography)

Wand from a children's cartoon (Stereolithography)

Ray Gun Movie Prop

Tribal Leader (clay)

About 8" tall

The Birth of Man (life castings)

My Perfect Woman (life castings)

Star Ship Enterprise (Cast aluminum)

V-Jet Scale Model (Stereolithography)

Something Wicked This Way Comes (life casting)

This is a work in progress.

The God Particle (multimedia on baroque board)

Trapped in Paradise (multimedia)

Wet For You (life casting)

Box Lunch (multimedia, made for my photo series called The White Room)

The Genesis Plant (multimedia/life casting)

This is a work in progress.

Witches Hour Glass Prop (multimedia)

Self Love (Life Casting)

To my French Waitress...

I spend my days with the sound of a beat in my head,
years have gone by and visions of you still dance in my thoughts,
your broken accent,
your love of rock and roll,
the passion that flowed between us,
the memories of you and I in bed.

When my eyes close I can see you again,
the taste of you forming on my tongue,
the memories of us in a hot shower,
your small body close to mine,
the feeling of your skin,
the way it began.

Not a day has gone by in the years past,
that I have not had you in my thoughts,
not a day has gone by in the years past,
that I have not relived our story,
all the while hearing that beat in my head.

The French Waitress 

A story about passion, desire, France, the taste of a beautiful woman...

A story about the adventure of two people in a single night...

Self Love and the Ankh

Self Love:

The Power of the Ankh:

Arts in the Park...

Freeland Michigan, come see great art, have some great food and wine and listen to live music!!!

I will be there on September 10th

She was

She was the kind that made you take a chance,
The kind that gave you that subtle glance,
When things were good they were the best,
But now all i have time for is rest.

Because she was the kind of girl that made you take a chance.
Turning love into a fight,
Always taking that no win stance,
She could never admit you the one who was right.

She was full of fun and adventure,
Never looking back at her self loathing indenture,
She pushed people away at the speed of light,
Always claiming to be right.

She was the kind of girl that made you take a chance,
The kind of girl that was full of pop and circumstance,
For her it was all about visual clues,
But in reality she was singing the blues.

Because she was the kind of girl that made you take a chance.
Turning love into a fight,
Always taking that no win stance,
She could never admit you the one who was right,
Because she was full of pop and circumstance.

Just write me a letter

All you have to do is write me a letter,
it will make you feel better,
I know you have adventures to tell me about,
I know that things have not worked out.

All you have to do is write me a letter,
telling me how thing truly are,
I know that things and words have gone to far,
so take a step and feel better.

All you have to do is write me a letter,
and say the things you want,
write about how you miss our talks,
write about our long walks.

All you have to do is write me a letter,
and you know in your heart,
you will start to feel better,
a hand written note that professes to say,
all the things you think about in a single day.

All you have to do is write me a letter,
I will remind you we are more then most,
that our minds think alike,
much like that photograph of "God is a blue bike".

Below is my address,
you know what to say,
I can tell by your visits,
you have something to tell me,
so if you are brave enough,
all you have to do is write me a letter.

email will not do,
all I ask is a hand written note from you,
and because this should be easy,
language does not matter...

She is a ghost

She is a ghost that haunts me to this day,
she was the one who gave my life away,
I spend time in a thought delusion,
wondering if my life has become an illusion.

She is the one who owns my heart,
the one who has torn my life apart,
life's surprises never reveal,
the plans for allowing you to heal.

She is a ghost who haunts me to this day,
the one whose inspiration invites me to play,
she tastes like the summer sun,
making love our bodies become one.

She's the one who owns my heart,
the one who has torn my life apart...

It seems you have a lot to say...

I see the attempts,
the daily visits,
whatever the reason,
whatever the cause,
the only way to reach me now,
is a hand written letter.

It seems you have a lot to say,
as if your words would make me sway,
if you want to speak,
if you want your voice to be heard,
then send me a hand written letter.

I know you think of the time we spent,
together in loving embrace,
I know satisfaction has been absent,
I know my words play in your mind,
regardless of who or the time.

So the only way to communicate,
is to write a hand written letter,
that may instill the seed of desire,
one that will overcome distrust,
hate and anger.

It's pretty simple at this point,
just write me a hand written letter,
like the ones you have in the past,
that in your heart you say you are better.

You know I love you,
you know I am in need,
and yet,
all it takes is a hand written letter!

If I could describe the taste of you...

If I could describe the taste of you,
it would taste like the color of midnight blue,
wandering in the mid day sun,
leads to nights of vintage Cosecha red,
where glittering days of midnight sun,
playing with times of proposals undone.

If I could describe the taste of you,
it would be like the earths watery hue,
a giant pearl in the blackness of space,
and life's eternal torment,
regarding the human race.

Notions of love and saving grace,
are filtering moments in the deadness of space,
but the universe is a mysterious place,
giving hope to notions of love and saving grace.

The tasting of you fills my lungs with pleasure,
like finding the universe in your eyes,
and a world of untold treasure,
sweet dreams go by every night,
while notions of tasting you take flight.

We spend our days in the delicate dance of life,
our nights sleeping off drunken strife,
the taste of you imbedded in my soul,
time and aging taking its toll,
all the while trying to describe the taste of you,
wondering what I've got to do,
with these notions of tasting you.

I am with this girl

I am with this girl whom I love,
we are passionate, crazy passionate,
things between us are deep, caring,
loving, true.

This girl I am with, drives me crazy,
I know I drive her the same way,
She defends her feelings toward me
with a firm stance like I have never seen before,
she stands by me when I don’t even stand by myself.

This girl I am with, the one I consider my true love,
she is is simply put the most adorable thing,
I have ever laid eyes on.

Our love is passionate, crazy, intense, good and comforting,
Our love is the very thing a love should be,
My love for her is never ending,
despite the silly arguments we stumble into,
despite the previous horrors in our past lives,
despite current frustrations,
my love for her is never ending,
and runs deeper then she can imagine.

This girl I am with, the one I call “sweet heart”,
she has become the most important part of my life,

My love for her is never ending...

The way you taste

I miss the way you taste!

The way you miss my voice, my words,

I miss the way you smile,

The way you miss my hair,

I miss the way you feel under my fingers,

The way you miss my eyes.

We are two of the same person, the way we desire, crave each other,

I miss the way you taste the morning after,

I miss the goose bumps rise and fall!

I miss the way you taste!

Are we real?

Time traveled seems surreal
I close my eyes through the day
and taste Morocco in the air.

Oceans of time between us
days walking in Toulouse
nights of red wine and proposals
with father Van Gogh guiding.

Buses, round-a-bouts and fingers pointing
memories en-grained behind us
we ask ourselves with separation upon us,

Are We Real?

Feeling you inside me

As we sit on my bed, your breasts pushing up against my back, I can feel your heartbeat pounding.  My hands running over your skin as they run from your knees to your beautiful hips, my hands trembling at the touch of you.

I feel you inside me.

I feel your heart pounding next to mine!

My hands reaching behind you feeling those hips of yours, wanting more but enjoying what they have.  Your skin getting tighter as they run along the surface of your body, feeling the reaction that you can no longer control.  We are locked in a position of restricted movement, but an entirely beautiful position to be in, your body pressed tightly against mine, your beautiful breasts pressed hard into my back.

Your heart pounding next to mine I can feel you inside me.

Your breath a warm flush against my neck as you kiss me, the cool air blowing through the window gives a hint of the pending fall weather, your nipples pressing even deeper into me.

Our bodies are entwined  as one in our contorted effort to explore each other.

I dare not change or move for fear of disturbing the dream of you inside me, our hearts now beating as one.  The heat from our bodies now causing steam to rise from the seam that once separated us but now seals us.  Your hands wrapped around my chest, your fingers moving to feel my piercings as mine give you a gentile massage.

I can feel the excitement in you as we sit in a contorted embrace while I feel you inside me.

You kissing... the touch of your lips on my neck and back, feeling you pressing tight up against me, your nipples erect from both excitement and the chill in the air.  We sit in this embrace never once speaking.

Just closed eyes as we explore the concept of you inside me!

The Proposal

Our adventure that day had begun in a frantic moment of trying to find the right bus to take us to Pont du Gard, the largest remaining Roman Aqueduct.  Trying to figure out the complicated bus schedule was frustrating at best until Jamie asked a bus driver if he was going in that direction.  His response seemed cryptic based on the puzzled look on Jamie's face.  Though her French was extraordinary he seemed to have a dialect that left her just a bit puzzled.  She motioned me to sit down and proceeded to pay for our tickets.  As the buss pulled out of the station we passed several key locations that every artist knew, the mental institution that Van Gogh had been in was there right in front of us.  We both sat in silence for a few moments pondering the great artist, the area, and the things we were seeing.

It was not long before we were out in the French countryside looking at the endless fields of grapes passing us by.  I have to admit I was surprised at how mountainous it was.  We traveled for what seemed to be about 40 or 50 minutes when we pulled onto a round-a-bout and stopped.  The bus door flung open and the driver pointed out the door down a seemingly endless street and muttered the words "Pont du Gard".  Jamie and I looked out the window, back at each other, then at buss driver who nodded his head and repeated the words "Pont du Gard".  Never shying way from an adventure we picked up what few things we had, my camera bag and exited the buss!  Our destination it seemed rested about two miles down the road so off we headed.  Our walk took us down a road with homes built on the side of a mountain on one side and vast grape fields as far as the eye could see on the other, it seemed as if we were walking in the foot steps of Van Gouh himself.  Despite days of rain early in the week today the sky was clear and as blue as I have ever seen, the colors of the fields, the trees the sky above us we could see how this beautiful place enchanted Van Gogh we could see the colors of life before our eyes!

We eventually found our destination and spent the day exploring every bit of it as we could, it seemed the park was actually closed so the number of people there was much less then on a busy day.  It was truly a sight to see, roman workers scribing there names in stones as big as a car, the engineering that went into this incredible stretch of aqueduct was just astounding.  We explored the monument for hours taking time to ensure that we would also explore each other, a kiss, and a hug as we stood swaying in the breeze small gentile things to let each other know how we felt.  Children playing around us, other couples having pick-nicks and the many other photographers meant that we would have to behave.

As our time here came to a close we both realized we had spent most of the day without food, we took water on all of our adventures but relied on finding local food, as our adventures would unfold.  We began walking back the way we had come in hopes of finding two things, a place to eat and some sort of buss stop to let us know how to get back to Nimes.  One restaurant was all we passed along the two-mile stretch of road and though it slips my memory as to why we cold not eat there.  Our walk back continued until we got to the round-a-bout and stood puzzled for a bit as to where to go.   The round about had three entry ways, the way we came in, the walk to Pont du Gard and the third went over a bridge that lead to a small town, if we could not find the buss stop there we would be spending the night!  Just over the bridge was the very thing we hunted for, and once again trying to decipher the cryptic schedule lead both of us to a brief moment of panic as we either had just missed the last buss or it was about to come.  Several old men sitting on a bench watched us as we looked frantically up and down the street, then with out notice one of them pointed and said something in French at which time Jamie smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, the very last bus back to Niems that day was pulling up behind us!

Even though our day was coming to a close as we caught the last bus back to Nimes our adventure for that day had just begun.  Tired from our days activities and walking we both fell into our seats for the ride back to Nimes discussing what we might want for dinner and our nights activities.  Anytime we traveled we both had the opinion of walking the streets and eating at restaurants that not only appealed in taste but in decor and the people working or owning them.  We looked for restaurants that were different, usually off the beaten path and to this day had never had nothing but fantastic meals.  I guess our reasoning was that if we go off the beaten path we would find restaurants where the owners prepared meals because they loved to cook, not to feed the tourists and simply make a living.
Our return to Nimes was welcome and the sun was just starting to set as we got back to our hotel.  Our room was on the second floor and through our window you could see across the street the last working Roman Coliseum in existence!  The view was extraordinary!  Just below the window was a restaurant that (as most in France do) had plenty of space for an out door cafe.  We would hear patrons at eating and drinking, as we got ready for whatever adventure was next.

The emotions of the day from seeing such beauty had caught up with us, all of our pent up desires while at Pont du Gard were now bursting to be let out, we still had an hour or two before we would head out to dinner, the window was open and a cool breeze would waft through the air once and a while.  Standing in front of the window gazing out at the sun setting over this fantastic city was over whelming.  I held her in my arms and began to caress her face from behind; as we stood there holding each other she could sense my excitement at the simple touch of her.  She turned to me looking up with her endlessly deep eyes and began to kiss me.   The taste of her lips on mine as we stood in that window is with me to this day.  I guided her over to our bed, which it turns out was two twin beds pushed together, which we discovered during our time the night before and ended up on the floor.  Ensuring that kind of moment would not happen again I laid her down and began to slowly remove her clothing.  She trembled slightly as the cool air would rush in through the open window, "can you just close the curtain, leave the window open but just close the curtain" she asked.   Of course I said getting up and walking over to the window.  As I looked back she had already remover her remaining clothing and I stood there gazing at her beauty, I could not look away! She was stunning; her face was flush with not only the excitement of the moment and filled with desire but flush from our wonderful day walking in the South of France.  What clothes I had on I started to remove and she stopped me abruptly, saying, "No, I want to do that".  My desire was always to please her and I could not help but follow her instructions, she was in control of this adventure!

She motioned me to sit on the bed as she got up and stood in front of me nude, any attempt at touching her was refuted though she smiled at every attempt.  As she slowly unbuttoned my shirt she would use her hands and gently touch my shoulders, face, her bare breasts would brush against me causing my skin to react with excitement.  With my shirt now off she sat behind me with her breasts pushing into my back, her hands rubbing my chest, playing with my nipple piercings I could hear her breathing change, I could feel her body heat increasing with every passing second.  She motioned me to lay on my back all the while never stopping her gentle caress.  She quickly removed my pants exposing all of me to her, she spent a great deal of time exploring my body with a soft touch as if to imprint on her mind every goose bump, every hair that she caused to rise and fall.  She was doing to me what I had do to her many times, I knew that her desire was to know my body, to taste it with her fingers.  I laid there letting her touch, feel, the desire to touch her was over whelming I could not stand it any longer!  "Look if you are going to do that I NEED to feel you, I need to touch you!"  I thought to myself "don't deny me the pleasure of sensing and touching your body, you can have mine but I need yours!"  My hands instinctively moved to hold her hips, they held there for a moment, and then moved to cup her face as she looked into my eyes, staring into me as if to be looking into my mind.  I pulled her face closer to mine, gently feeling her lips against mine, refraining from any intense kissing, I simply wanted to use  my lips to feel her face, chin, her nose, letting her twist her head so I cold feel the nape of her neck and her ears.

Neither of us could feel the breeze any longer and we both were now intensely hot, our act of exploration had caused our bodies to rise in temperature such that as she sat up I could see small beads of sweat rolling down her bare breasts collecting at her beautiful nipples.  I pulled her onto me in such a way that I could use my tongue to collect the sweet taste of her and drink her in.  Pulling her even closer to me I no was able to take all of her breasts into my mouth and as I did so she would moan with pleasure, from this point on any touch, any kiss any form of moment between our bodies, we would both moan with pleasure. There was no longer a reason to speak, we used our hands, eyes and bodies to communicate with the only sounds being uttered were tones that had the soul purpose of letting each other know the lever of pleasure we felt.  As we continued to explore each other the lighting in the room took on a surreal mood, I was aware of it but it was as if the only light that mattered was the light that reflected off our bodies, the rest of the room became nonexistent, the open window became nonexistent.

The room filled with the scent of her as we explored each other, her excitement was such that my body was drenched in her, she was drenched in me.  We fulfilled many desires, tasting, touching, kissing, our night of fulfillment continued for an hour until I laid on my back and motioned her to move on top of me, I could not stand it any longer I had to be one with her.  She moves such that I entered her and as she slid down on top of me she let out a moan that I had not heard with such intensity before. She trembled as I progressed deeper into her, until she rested on top of me, she leaned over to lay on top of me kissing me sucking and pulling on my lips with hers.  Our bodies were so tight to the others there was a vacuum between us and when she went to sit back up the reaction pulled her back down on top of me with force. Our bodies truly had become one in that moment.  We proceeded to make love, me thrusting deep inside her and with every stroke her moans had gotten louder, looking up at her I see her back arch and a pleasant scream escapes her mouth and pulses through the air.  We had completely disregarded the open window, the busy cafe down stairs and the level of exquisite noise she and I had been making.

As we continued to make love, continued to explore each other, continued to bring each other to the very brink of sexual madness we both exploded, passionately and intensely satisfying, the desire to continue to please the other was never ending, our night was an explosion of pent up desires that would not end!  As we both began to come back to reality and the room once again appeared I looked up at her smiling a very big smile, she looked at me puzzled and said "what?” "Nothing" I replied, "just enjoying the moment."  She looked toward the window hearing a noise and having gotten a bit closer to reality asked, "what are they clapping about?” "You" I replied, "they are applauding our love making, I guess we had gotten louder then we thought we could” Her moans of pleasure had become a permanent part of the city of Nimes.  There was no doubt whether she had been satisfied, the patrons of the restaurant below our window knew she had been, they knew I had been.
Now embarrassed (a bit) at our show she asked that I close the window while we readied our selves for the night, laughing at our show, relishing in the intensity of it, we once again got dressed and despite having a plan to find a restaurant online wandered out into the city to find a place to nourish our now spent bodies.  Though our day had the perfect weather as we made love in our hotel room the rain once again began to fall, not enough to prevent us from wandering out but just enough to give the night view of Nimes a wonderful glow.  We found our selves walking through the city in search of a restaurant, we had no idea what it would be or what kind of food they would serve that would come when we found it.  Stumbling over the cobblestone streets we found our selves in front of a very small African restaurant that looked quite interesting, through the window we could see an eclectic collection of items that were clearly from Africa.  As Jamie read the menu posted outside we were greeted by an African woman who came out of the restaurant at seeing us linger just outside.  She was pleasant and very out going, Jamie and she talked about the menu and it was decided we would have our dinner there.

Walking into the small structure it was set up so that at best 12 to 16 people could eat at the same time and that would have been a tight fit.  The restaurant was charming, and we quickly knew we had made the correct choice.  Once inside we were introduced to an African male who was just as excited as the female, it seemed that they were the owners and the only two working in the restaurant that night.  We discovered that the female was as artist as well and that some of the items hanging on the wall was by her.  We were asked what our wine choice would be and though they only had a few varieties to choose from they were all from Africa, I suggested we let them decide as they knew the food and what wine would be well suited to bring out the flavor.  Our meal was absolutely fantastic, we sampled various dishes recommended by the owners and each dish was better then the one before.  As we approached our second bottle of wine, the meal, the night and the wine started to catch up with us as we laughed and reminisced about the days adventures, all of them.  After paying the bill and leaving a well deserved tip for these folks we started our journey back to the hotel though having not paid much attention the way we got there getting home it would seem to be an adventure as well.
We wandered through the streets of Niems laughing and stopping frequently to soak in the crisp night air and each other and it was apparent that the wine had gone to Jamie's head as we both stumbled over the cobblestone streets and each other.  At one point I stopped, turned around to blurted the following: "Ok mam I am sorry but we are going to have to give you a sobriety test here, it seems you may have had a bit to much to drink the way you are walking." I continued with "can you please walk a straight line, here follow this line for me” laughing as the words exited my mouth.  She tried her best to walk the line I had shown her, tipping one way then the other when in an instant she ended up on her bottom looking up at  me laughing at her inability to walk.  "Wait that was not fair" she blurted as I picked her up from the ground.  "Its wet and I slipped” let me have a do over officer" she stated.  After a moment of sitting and snuggling in the now very chilly air I said, "ok once again but you must pass this time or punishment will be swift” She laughed at my comment and proceeded to make another attempt at walking a straight line.  Though she was able to walk, it was far from straight though at least this time she maintained an upright stance.  We laughed at our game and continued our walk back to the hotel.  We found our selves walking next to the coliseum, which meant our hotel was just around the corner.  

Without warning and with all the force she could muster she pushed me in a dark corner next to one of the pillars of this magnificent structure.  We stood for several moments embracing each other kissing with all the passion we could under a now clear night sky.  We laughed as a group of young girls passed us, looking intently as we kissed and gazed into each other’s eyes.  Then she stepped back from me, a long stare into my eyes and proceeded to kneel there in front of me.  Holding my hands for stability her eyes lit by the night moon of Nimes, they were glowing with an inner beauty rarely seen in anyone.  The noise that surrounded us was gone, people walking in the streets were gone, the same feeling I had in our hotel room had returned, the world no longer existed just she kneeling in front of me and me looking down at her beautiful face.   "Will you marry me?" she said, as I helped her back to her feet I held her close and said "Any second of any day I would marry you!” we held each other in a tight embrace as we made our way back to our hotel room, feeling even more passion and desire for each other then ever.  Our day’s adventures ended in a loving tight embrace and the echoes of applause played our heads as we drifted to sleep in each others arms.

 

The French Waitress

I had just finished a modeling shoot in Antwerp, Belgium and packed up my equipment and wanted to take a hot bath, the damp chill never left me while in Antwerp.  I ordered a few beers turned on my iPod and listened to a few tunes from home while the water ran in the tub.  It was a welcome site because the tub had jets that massaged as you soaked.

The window open I could hear the business of Antwerp carrying on beneath my window, I was a few stories up and right downtown near the train station.  The hotel did not have hot water for most of my stay, in fact most of the time it was barely luke warm.  One step in and I realized the water had not even reached room temperature and was forming goose bumps on my arms before my feet had fully landed on the tub floor!  Great I thought, while the photographic shoot went well and the model is now a dear friend, my stay in Antwerp was less then desirable given the water situation the several hundred Euros that were stolen from my room and the lack of really good food.

Somewhat disgusted I went to bed shivering in the night anticipating my drive to Paris the next morning.

The drive went well a few snow storms in the French farm lands, a few side stops to photograph an old home or two.  Because of weather the 4~5 hour drive took 6~7 hours but that was ok.  I was heading into one of the most art rich cities in the world and I eagerly took in every building, every bit of architecture on the way.  My hostel was recommended to me by a friend and I had no idea what to expect.  I had exchanged email a few times with the owner Marie Poirier getting reservations settled in.  I arrived in Paris and the city was exactly as I had pictured it!

My GPS unit directed me to an underground parking structure and after a week and a half in the car alone I started calling it the GPS lady, she spoke and I followed direction from her, she got me to my destinations every time without fault.  Grabbing my suitcase and camera equipment, a backpack designed and purchased specifically for this trip weighing in at about 40lbs. I slung it on my shoulders and with GPS lady in hand I headed up the several flights of stairs to the surface.  My last few steps I leaned back a bit and the weight of my backpack, which had my laptop, encased in it between my back and the camera equipment had pulled me back to the point where I could not maintain balance.  Backward I fell on my back tumbling over and over passing a French fellow on the way down, nearly ramming him as if I were a bowling ball going down a lane.  “Pardon me” I remember uttering as I landed on the floor just behind him.  He looked and then returned to typing on his cell phone and off he went.

Regaining composure… a bit bruised and embarrassed but ok. I needed to find my hostel a cold beer and take a really long hot shower… god I missed the hot water!  Finally emerging at the surface I held GPS lady in my hand I let her guide me through the streets of Paris to my destination.  There it was in front of me, the Hostel called Les Marronniers a coffee shop on the corner modern and new all glass windows bustling with activity and right next to it was the giant wood door of my hostel.  A key pad next to the door had a message taped to it… “Today’s code is ####” a four digit code that presumably let you in.  Secure I thought…

I typed the code in and the door clicked open.  I entered a small court and followed my way up the stairs, signs every where… directing me to my place of refuge from the day.   There it was a sign on the door Les Marronniers.  I pushed the door open to find a large woman standing there waiting to greet me "I am Marie Poirier.  You are the photographer” she said… I replied “yes my name is Karl.”  She welcomed me to the hostel and directed me to the living and dining area of the room we were in.  “There are four rooms in this side of the hostel and three rooms on the other side”. She said.  “I am the cooker and we eat dinner at 7:00pm and breakfast at 7:00am if you are here you will eat if you are not here by then you will have to find to eat somewhere else” she continued in broken English. “Your room and the restroom are over here” We walked back out the main door and across the large landing into a door directly across from the first.  She pointed out the restroom (shared between all guests) and in the same room was the laundry room.  Separate from the restroom by a thin curtain.  “Your room is down here” she said as she turned down a very narrow hall that she could barely fit thorough.  It was not that the hall was narrow it was that there were antiques, paintings and other treasures stacked up floor to ceiling all the way down the hall.  We passed two other doors “rooms five and six” she said.  And we ended up at the door at the very end of the hall; she unlocked it and went in.  “Here you are Mr. Photographer” she said… and then continuing, “As you requested you have the only room with a private shower and toilet, room seven”.

“Dinner is at 7:00 we will see you there, wee?   “Yes, I need to shower first” I said…

Ahhh the feeling of hot water!  The shower was very small but the feeling of hot water and soap!  I took a shower for what seemed like an hour, though I know it was shorter then this.  I cleaned up and tossed a load of my cloths in the washer before walking into the main dining area.  As I walked through the main door there was a woman cooking steak in a very small kitchen to my left.  To my right was mademoiselle Poirier in her small office and as I walked forward into the dining area the table was set perfectly though it was a mish-mash of mixed table wear every piece at each setting was there.

The living room was to my right and had a couple of people in it sitting watching some new program on TV, talking about the “strike” that was about to happen.  One fellow turned and saw me coming in, he looked and sounded as if he was from India, he was here in Paris doing bio-research he told me right away.  “And you must be the photographer!” he stated.  “Yes my name is Karl” I replied.  An older woman, who was from Africa and spoke only her native language and French shook my hand, smiled but said nothing.  An American woman introduced her self after coming from one the four rooms off the back wall.  Fussing with her hair she was older, late fifties, I am Sandra Beckom, she said. Marie now in the living area spoke up in a proud voice “She is the wife of an important American Congressman”, Mrs. Beckom then spoke… “My husband is here on official business but I just love this place that Marie has created.   I stay here when ever we come to Paris, my husband has his duties to fill and this is much more home like”, she continued.  About that time the woman from the kitchen indicated that dinner was going to be served and those of us that were there made our way to the table.  I sat near an end with my back to the door and a French fellow walked out of another room and sat to the right of me. The Indian fellow sat at the end of the table to my left and with the woman from Africa.  Two more came in from my side of the hostel and sat across from me.  The wife of the congressman told Marie that she would be sitting but would not be eating as she had a function to be at and would eat there with her husband.

I was formally introduced to the entire group by Marie as “The Photographer” and as soon as I could I inserted my name… “Umm, my name is Karl, Karl Denton…” it did not seem to matter…

The French fellow turned and shook my hand, “Nice to meet you, I am like you in a way going around recording history”.  I must have had a puzzled look on my face… he spoke very good English but had a very thick French accent.  “You are a photographer, are you not?” he said quickly.  “Yes” was my reply.  “Then you record history, you are one that documents what things are happening on any given day”, I am just like you but I travel the world recording the music of tribes or civilizations that are beginning to be influenced by the outside world.  I record history because once the music is changed it is changed for ever” he went on.  “The American music influence is far greater then most think and my research for the university is to record as much as possible before that influence happens.”  I thought his job was one that was extremely interesting but after the day I had I was losing my attention span quickly and just as that thought left my head the Indian fellow spoke up about the government in America and at that moment as if it was a cue the Congressman’s wife got up and quietly walked out nodding to us with a smile as she left.

The conversation got a bit more heated as time went on and we filled our selves with Maries cooking and wine.  While in Antwerp, I had purchased several cigars for my time in Europe and as I was not allowed to smoke in the rental car I was looking forward to having one that evening.  Despite having given up cigarettes nearly 15 years ago I did enjoy a good cigar a few times a year.  Just after dessert I indicated that I needed to walk and this was a good time as the fellow from India was getting much more stern in his voice and appearance.   I stood up and excused myself, pulled a cigar out of my shirt pocket and indicated that I was going out for a walk.

Making my way to the door I pushed it open and was hit with a very cold breeze, it snapped new life into me.  I walked next door to the café that was now a bit quieter.  A few tables with a couples sitting close talking sipping on coffee. I made my way in and sat at a table on the side of the café that was slow.  A young woman came over and asked if I need anything and I asked for a beer, I also asked if I could smoke my cigar in the café,  she said “of course” and handed me an ash tray.  She then went off to fetch my beer and returned.  You are the American photographer? She asked “Yes I am I replied.”  With broken English she asked to sit and talk a bit… “I want to learn as much English as I can someday.  I am going to school for art and want to make a trip to the US” she continued as she slowly sat at the table across from me.  She was a small woman standing only about 5 feet tall with shoulder length black hair and brown eyes.  I asked if the cigar smoke bothered her and she replied “Not at all I enjoy a cigar once and a while too” she motioned to me for mine and mesmerized I handed it to her.  She enjoyed a few puffs and handed it back to me as her boss called her to service some new customers.  She asked if it would be ok to come back and talk for a while… I said “of course!”

When she came back over to the table, the beer and warmth of the café must have set in, she sat down in front of me and smiled “you are staying next door?” she asked.  “How long are you here for?” “Why have you come to Paris?”  She blushed “I know too many questions” she continued… I love talking to people from many countries.  Though I want to visit America I will probably never do it because of the cost, I must finish my degree and then there are bills to pay, there are always bill to pay” she said.  We sat talking for what seemed hours and hours me answering her questions, telling her about my adventure driving from Germany to Belgium then Belgium to Paris.  “What kind of music do you like” she blurted out.  “Well I am old rocker at heart, so I guess rock and roll” I answered.  “Me too” she replied. “I am going to a concert of the color purple… oh what is the words, my English…” frustrated she stood up and proceeded to play an air guitar while making the sounds… duh, duh, duh…. duh, duh, dada” and then it clicked! And I joined in with her.  The two of us playing air guitar and blurting out the sounds that made up the song Smoke on the water by Deep Purple.  We were the spectacle of the moment as other patrons turned to look at us.  “You are going to see Deep Purple?” I asked.  Yes she sad tomorrow night they are having a revival band playing there songs… that is the name of them Deep Purple!  I love this old music… the French do not know how to rock and roll you know” she exclaimed.

By this time her boss had started placing chairs on the table tops as we were the only ones left in the café.  I told her that it was wonderful meeting her but I think that I should be going.  I still had nearly a half a cigar left so I walked out side wearing my blue jean jacket and stood smoking while I watched her clean the area we were just in and placing the chairs on table tops… every once and a while she would glance out the window and see me still standing there and smile. Then it hit me that at some point I told her which room I was in…and my mind started to fantasize…

This cute little French waitress who likes smoking cigars, rock and roll music and air guitar… hmmm.

The weather in Paris was very cold while I was there and all I had was my jean jacket.  I finished my cigar catching a few more glances of the waitress looking back and put my cigar out and headed to my room.  She never told her name and I never told her mine and as I walked up stairs I thought what a shame to have such a connection and not know the name of the other person… then I felt the soft warm hand of a small woman in mine.  “The code you know it is posted on the door… such security we have here in Paris” she said as she giggled about it.  “Do you mind if we continue our conversation?” She asked “not at all I, but I need to take a hot shower and clean up a bit” I replied. She looked at me with a stern face, “talk quieter I know Marie and she does not like it when guests bring others to the rooms.”  I whispered “ok…” and unlocked the door.  After turning on a dim table lamp I said that she could make herself comfortable and I would be in the shower for just a few moments.  I indicated that I had a few beers in a cooler and she was welcome to one if she liked. She just nodded and lay down on the bed, rested her head on the pillow.

I reached into the shower and turned on the water so it would get hot.  When I turned around to look at the figure lying on the bed she had turned toward me and was watching as I undressed.  There was no door on the restroom and even in the shower you were visible to the entire room, so there was no point in worrying about it.  As I slipped my shirt off her eyebrows rose a bit and I realized she had noticed I had piercings. She whispered “I like them” and continued watching me slip my shorts off then as quick as she could rose to her feet and proceeded to do the same.  “I think I will shower with you” she said in a quiet voice moving in slow deliberate fashion.  I looked back at this incredibly small shower and then at me… then at her… she looked up and said “it will make it much more fun showering so close, yes?”  I stepped into the hot water raining down from the spout and immersed my self in water.  I opened my eyes to see this tiny little frame with breasts the perfect size to fit in a champagne glass and a small delicate waist swaying as she moved toward the shower.  She lifted her hand and I helped her up the single step to the shower basin.  The shower measured barely 2 feet square and our bodies fit perfectly next to each other in this tiny space.  The French waitress looked up at me and whispered “we will enjoy this moment in time; it will be with us forever.”  I reached over and took the soap in my hand and began to rub her shoulders, as she turned her back toward me she took my hands and moved them to her breasts, lifting up her head to give me a kiss, we stood there for a bit of time tasting each others mouth, lips, even our noses and ears were to be tasted… It was if we knew this would be the only time we would ever be together, ever know the other…

My hands moved over her beautiful breasts and my fingers found her nipples becoming more erect and full with every passing second.  One hand slowly reaching for her hip and turning her, so she now faced me.  Her tiny body pressed against mine the soap I had spread on her was now a full body lubricant.  We could not help but feel our bodies rubbing against each other and as we did we both became more aroused more tuned in to the other.  The warmth of the hot water filling the entire room with steam in the chilly air.  I took her bottom in my hands and pressed her against my body even more tightly.  The firmness of her bottom was incredible she had the perfect bottom, the perfectly round bottom that fit in my hands as if they had been designed to do nothing but hold her perfectly round bottom. 

For some reason, for just a split second I glanced up and smiled, she asked "what is it?”  "What are you smiling at?"  I pointed toward the wall with windows from floor to ceiling, it seems we had attracted an audience as the room had no window coverings and the dim light from both the night stand and restroom provided a perfect lighting situation for those who could see from across the street.  We had become a spectacle again but this time it was for several hundred people… our observers in a moment of spontaneity, when they realized we were looking back started to cheer, clapping from both men and woman, young and old alike.  Though it was nearly midnight the hostel was sitting on the very corner of a buss stop that ported people from this famous park the Luxembourg Gardens near one of Paris’s most known universities.  We had become the night’s entertainment the most sensuous show in Paris.

She looked up at me and smiled a deep smile and I knew we should move over to the bed where we would not be so observed.  As I turned off the shower our bodies still dripping wet we moved toward the bed and I was barley able to turn off the light in the restroom.  The room went a bit darker and the crowd in unison started to hum some song I had never heard.  Though she was still giggling a bit about every thing I asked what is this?  “They are humming the French song of love.  There is no name for it and we are not sure when it really started but the story goes like this… long ago a sailor returning home had missed his wife so terribly that he started anew with her by making love to her in the moon light.  His shipmates hummed this song as the ship went out to sea again without him, when anyone in France knows real lovemaking is going on the humming starts, it is in our blood, we can’t help it” I looked at her and smiled the humming very quiet and respectful as if these people knew this would be the one time we would be together, would be the most intense moment we would share.  “Not to worry to be honest I find the humming to be very rhythmic, very erotic.”

We spent the next several hours exploring every inch of each other, tasting, feeling, touching every spot on each others bodies.  Her breasts in my hands, rolling her nipples between my lips my tongue tasting them… she playing with my piercings and seemingly fond of them.  We spent the next several hours exploring every inch of each other, made love to each other as though it would be the last time, though it was the first.  The entire time that slow rhythmic hum in the background.  We finally fell to the bed about 3:00 in the morning both exhausted beyond anything we had experienced before.  The French waitress lay next to me, my arm around her tiny hips holding her as close as I could. She was looking into my eyes barely able to hold them open… I gave her a kiss and told her “sweet dreams… we will remember this moment for the rest of our lives. It will be the most sensual, loving thing either of us will ever do.”  With that she finally fell asleep and though I still heard the rhythmic beat of the French song of love I did not realize that the onlookers had dispersed hours ago.  I looked at her beautiful body now in the moonlight, finding my fingers running over her soft skin as I too fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of the hustle and bustle of the street noise the next morning, she was gone.  Her taste still in the air she must have just left. The side of the bed she was on was still warm.  I got up and looked out the window and saw her riding off on a scooter, looking back only once… that smile on her face, her tiny frame getting even smaller as she rode away.

I had to move to another hotel that same morning to photograph a strike by the folks that work the transit system and never got a chance to go back to the café. I never new her name and she never knew mine.  We made love as thought we would never see one another again. We explored the other so we would have a permanent imprint in our minds of what the other tasted, smelled and felt like.

The quiet hum of the French song of love still rings in my ears and when the noise around me calms down I can taste her in the air.
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The hostel is real, click here and then the main photo to have a look a look around Les Marronniers

Below the text are images taken at Les Marronniers. 

Marie Poirier (her actual name) and all of the characters in this story are real though I chose to leave there names out, the congressman's wife has had her name changed. 

The French waitress is real and we did play air guitar in the cafe' to the tune of Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple. 

And I did contact Marie about two months after my stay in the hostel to see if she would find out the waitresses name for me so I could send her a Deep Purple CD... She had quit the cafe' and moved on to a new job shortly after my visit to the hostel. 

I have had this story in my head since March of 2007 and could not do anything else today but type it...