Bind

I keep returning to this picture, challenged to write a critique, challenged to understand why I keep returning, only to be frustrated and challenged again. The image does not easily offer the same conceptual richness as do other images of yours. Yet there is a sense of quality to the image. Quality within its calculation and execution.

There is a playful element here. It's in the relaxed response to the apparent subject. Sure the fists look clenched, but the face does not. What of the face? Does it turn from the camera? Or from the supposed bonds? Or does it mock their drama? The eyelids are not clenched,...just closed,...quiet. The word "demure" comes to mind. I go to the dictionary for "demure": quiet and polite, (yes, "quiet",) reserved, modest, coy. "Coy" had come to mind earlier, in fact.
"Coy" had lead me to "playful."

And what of the supposed bonds? The model is not truly restrained and the restraints look stylized and absurd. Like ornamental fixtures "in a bdsm taste". But the coppery luster of these curios enslaves the entire picture. With the poignancy of faded sepia? Not really. More likely it sets a warm tone: muted, contemplative, polite; relaxing for eye and libido alike. A tasteful captivity.

Does our "captive" enjoin with the desires of the camera? Or mock them?
Is the turn of the head a surrender? Is her faux struggle meant to jut out her ass? Stretch her hard belly? Spread her tender ribs under under up-swung breasts, just for the delight of her captors?

Our jailor's fingertips graze the throw of solid hip, the twist of narrow waist, the warm fall of hair. But our eye drifts to the subtle hitches in the ground texture. Ordinary in its déclassé; appealing to our cultivation. We remain detached.

The effect resembles the enigma of antique sculpture, gesture made static, light made plein, and display made reverent.