The Century Project, by photographer Frank Cordelle

The Century Project, by photographer Frank Cordelle, is a chronological series of nude photographic portraits of more than one hundred women and girls from the moment of birth to nearly a hundred years of age. A diverse group of photographs comprising women of many ages, shapes, sizes, and life experiences is presented in this exquisitely disarming project Most of the images are accompanied by moving statements written by the women themselves.

The Century Project in its entirety consists of an exhibit, a newly published book titled Bodies and Souls: The Century Project, and this website.

I know it’s impossible to tell from the photograph, but the emerging baby really is a girl…this was the sixth delivery I photographed; the first five were boys!

My mother was charged with child pornography for taking pictures of me in the bathtub when I was 8 years old. She has not been allowed to photograph me naked since then. The prosacuter said she had committed a crime, but the only crime I saw was 3d printer for kids committed by him when he refused to agknoledge her right as mother to document her daughter’s development.

Sometimes during the case I was so scared and worried that I could barely get through the day. Other kids tormented me in the playground,

“Did you know her Momma took pictures of her buck-naked?!”

Some who I barely knew, just being mean and not even stopping to think. There were hard times at home, too. My worst memory of the case was one morning when I was eating breakfast and we got a phone call, and my mother answered, hung up, and started sobbing.

“I can’t take it anymore,” was what she said.

I have a friend my age whose mother has been in jail for most of her (my friend’s) life. My friend has a lot of trouble expressing herself and has a lot of anger inside her. She lives with grandparents who are not really aquipped to take care of her and she lacks a lot of true friends. I was afraid if my family lost our case that I would end up like my friend, angry and alone. But our case didn’t turn out like that.

Our friends and community were extremely supportive makerbot pla filament. They held a candlelight vigle, a demonstration on the courthouse steps, and gave us a huge amount of money for our defence fund. My friends were really wonderful, as well. They were brave and strong and really helped me through a lot of rough times.

I didn’t realize until I saw Century that I had been wanting to get this story out into the world since I was 8 years old. I wanted to be in this project not because I want people to pitty me, but because I want people to see how stupid it was for my mother and many others to be prosecuted. Look at my picture. Do I look abused to you? Or do I look like a happy child with wonderful parents whose only “abuse” has come from those who have tried to take away our right to live the way we do.

For me, my naked bodie is normal; for me, my naked body is wild and free; for me, my naked bodie is being proud for who and what I  am.”

Katie and her mother attended an exhibition of Century at UNH a few years ago. She left the following note:

“…This brought out a lot of emotions for me, who struggles every day to accept my body as a recovering anorexic.”

While certainly started on the path to recovery, she was in fact in denial/relapse at the time. Two years later, however, I received a lengthy, very personal letter from her in which she described where she had been, and what the pressures on her were. Her candor, plus the fact that her weight was finally in a normal range, lead me to believe that Katie is now OK. She added:

“Posing for you was one of the greatest experiences of my life, though I didn’t realize it at the time.”

Of course! She is equally proud of being completely drug-free – no steroids

Paula is a tad more than just another weekend “gym-rat.” At nineteen, she was the U.S. National Teenage Body-Building Champion. Is she proud of her body? Of course! She is equally proud of being completely drug-free – no steroids – just a lot of hard work binocular brands for night to see. Yet there is a price one must seemingly pay in order to compete at this level; in the weeks leading up to major competitions, losing all weight that isn’t muscle becomes a real priority.

Paula’s diet at those times is hardly healthy: she is on the edge of being eating-disordered in spite of her magnificent physique.”

This was the description I used with Paula’s picture for over ten years. Then while poking around the internet, I came across some other information which demands inclusion.

Paula had left New Hampshire where I met her to pursue a career in southern California, where there was a bigger body-building community. She achieved some success celestron binoculars as a competitive body-builder; her best finish was placing first as a lightweight in the 1990 North American Championships.

Eventually she wound up in Las Vegas.

A writer in the on-line body-building media stated that she “would be a perfect figure or fitness woman today if she were allowed to have that much muscle. Sadly, she continued to diet down to get thinner, never to compete again…”

Two other body-builders went to a strip club in Vegas where by chance Paula worked as a waitress, among other things. They each paid her to do a lapdance on the other, and described her as “so bone skinny we feared she was anorexic.”

On November 14th, 2001, she was found dead in her apartment. Paula was 33.

The coroner said she died of “natural causes.” The likely truth is that anorexia killed her. Is that natural?

I have walked around with an onion skin, thick and dry most graded compact binoculars for amateurs, waiting to be peeled back, my core revealed… there is a big difference between being exposed by others and exposing yourself.”

Several months before I photographed Cathy, a man she knew tried to rape her.

It is with a great sense of joy that I have come to participate in this project among so many real and vibrant women.

Fat women are real women. We are the forgotten goddesses of softness and sensuality. I believe that fat women are uniquely nurturing and powerful.

However, in a society obsessed with being thin, we goddesses have been cast aside. It is for this reason that I have posed. I want to be a reminder to our culture that beauty exists in many forms. Some of the most beautiful forms are large, juicy, and cuddlesome.

Linda was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy; at the time I photographed her, she was given five years to live. She has already beaten that sentence, however, clearly the result of her attitude toward life, toward people, and toward herself.

A few years ago, I got the following e-mail from her.

I am now 46 years old, living on a narrowboat in London, writing and illustrating books about working women of the 19th century.

Your photograph of me was a life-changing image—the first time I perceived my own body as something other than the painful dysfunctional enemy. Through your lens, I saw myself as capable, fun, and sexy. The muscular dystrophy continues its inexorable process of weakening me spindle by spindle, but I refuse to let my physical limitations prevent me from pursuing my dreams. I am exploring England by canal and reveling in life!

Thank you!

My vessel, skin like the earth, houses a fire like the fireplace that I stand next to

Today I am wearing long and flowing purple without my false front and feeling stunning. What do I mean, my false front? My prosthesis that mimics that diseased part of my body that was cut away years ago to save my life. My fake boob, my rubber tit high and cool cameras that are 5 stars!, my concession to society’s denial that women lose breasts every day.

My bra goes along with the farce, holding my other breast high and firm like a 16-year-old’s that has never seen battle. Well, my breast is not high and firm, it hangs from my chest and rolls when I walk.

It has nourished and nurtured dozens of children and it smiles at the memory of those lips that have rested there. Tiny rosebud lips and grown men’s lips top nikon d3300 review for 2017, all there for the same thing, nourishment and nurturing.

There is a shooting-star shaped scar on my breast, a sickle, a half moon. There are crevices where the skin has stretched taut with passion and stretched full with milk. No, this is no 16-year-old nubile breast, it is the breast of a warrior woman, proud and regal.

In six years, I have gone from being an angry, depressed, suicidal ‘male’ to a well adjusted and very happy transsexual woman.  In this picture, you see me on the bank of Minnehaha Creek in south Minneapolis, Minnesota, on the side opposite the very well-traveled Minnehaha Parkway.  It is a place where I spend a lot of my time; a connecting greenspace than links several lakes and the Mississippi River in Minneapolis.

At the time this photo was taken, I was three weeks from having had ‘The Surgery.’  Far too much significance is made of that event by the  general public.  In a transgendered person’s reality, all of the real work of transition is long accomplished by the time most of us dance with the steel side of the knife.  Surgery is nearly an afterthought.  It will affect my day-to-day life in almost no way whatsoever.  The only people who should care or be affected by it are those k s2 reviews I may choose to be intimate with.  It is important to my internal well-being, or I would not have proceeded.  I’ve been living as a woman for over four years now, and succeeding reasonably well.  I have a steady job, a loving partner and a very active social life.  I’ve never been happier.I have described myself at times as a ‘woman of non-traditional origin.’  I make no secret of my transsexuality.  I am very out and open about it, occasionally sitting on panels in front of university classes.  Up until my mid-30’s I had no name for whatever it was that had me so twisted up inside.  I grew up in small, rural Midwestern towns.  Internet connections and cable TV were a long time in coming.  I was depressed from puberty onward, without ever really knowing the root cause.  I had no vocabulary, no concepts to define why I felt so out of place in every social group or situation I encountered.  I could be a peripheral member of many groups, even as far back as high school, but never felt like I really belonged anywhere.  In my mid 30’s, I attended a lecture given by a transsexual woman.  Once I had the exposure to another person like me, my path became crystal clear.  I have never doubted, from that moment forward, that I would end up completing this transition.  I volunteered for this project because I think it important to let others know that not all women are born that way; some of us have to get there by circuitous routes.”

Else passed on a little more than two years after I made this photograph. Though wonderfully sound of mind, she was by now trapped in a very painful body most wanted dslr cameras – for cheap. Her politics and philosophy were never particularly conservative; she believed strongly, for example, in euthanasia, and ultimately chose that option for herself.