Photos by Jim Bonner Photography

Wow, it’s been a very long time since I last did a photographer spotlight.

This was really cute though:

Jim had found me three years ago from another photographer’s website and had wanted to work with me since then. We’d exchanged only a few messages, but he was down south and I was up here, and it just didn’t look like a shoot was ever gonna happen…

… and then it did! Jim was finally headed northward and he found me at a group shoot in SF. He booked me for a one-on-one there and the rest is history.

Actually, it is magic.

Check out the rest of his work HERE.

I do not understand how two digital cameras can produce such incredibly different results under the same lighting conditions. You just set the same numbers and all that, and they should turn out pretty similar, right? On the same set with one lighting set-up, five guys shoot the same thing, and three of them would be just downright horrendous, one would be okay, and one would be spectacular.

If anyone wants to have a portfolio done, Jim is definitely the guy to call!

When model and photographer are working on the same wavelength, it’s a magical experience. It is fulfilling and inspiring. It makes me want to keep going despite being exhausted, and it’s a reminder of why I love to model.

And every day I am reminded of it because one of Jim’s photos is my desktop wallpaper.

What I learned about SoCal

L.A. drivers are aggressive!

What’s a turn signal?
Wait, drag racing isn’t illegal?
The speed limit is just a guideline!
I drive faster than you, so get the f*ck out of my way!
I want a Batmobile so that I can fire missiles at the muthaf*ckas who drive like assholes.

June Gloom

So much for sunny LA, huh? The sun was out up in the Bay Area, ironically.

The sea lions were out in full force. There was one particular seal who kept barking for who knows what reason. Maybe it was the babysitter and was trying to get everyone in line… even though all they were doing was sleeping.

Terrible traffic signs!

Whoever the city planner is, listen up: You’re supposed to place the sign for the exit BEFORE the exit itself, m’kay?

We did find our way to the San Diego Zoo. I’m not a zoo person, but Husband is, so we went.

Below is a photo of me the first time I was there when I was about 11 years old.

I am the queen of overdressing.

Oh, and in case you don’t already know, I love me some snakes.

This one was being all, Beam me up, Scotty!

Most ridiculous name ever: SKYFARI. That’s so way outta left field it’s not even funny. How much are they paying these writers??

Just for fun, we took the little Balboa Park train. I wanted to sit with Zeeba Neighba*, and that made me realize that I LOVE GIGANTIC REALISTIC-LOOKING STUFFED ANIMALS.

*Brownie points for you if you understand the reference.

L.A. models are a whole different breed

There is definitely an “LA type.” Lemme see… they have huge boobs (some are fake, naturally), wear thong bikinis (which I’ve never worn until this event, and it’s not even a proper thong bikini – just a bikini top with a thong panty), get very very tanned, all get Brazilian waxes, and pose like Playboy models.

Most of them don’t do nudes or even topless. I was a little surprised. Maybe they’re still waiting for an offer from Playboy or Penthouse.

I ain’t gonna front – I’m still relatively new to glamour modeling. You will never see me put on nearly as much eye make-up as many of them do, and sticking my butt up in the air and pouting is not second-nature to me. (I’m really good at smiling and being adorable.)

But I know what they were looking for and I tried my best to deliver. I will, however, say that I look as good naked as they do in bikinis – let’s face it, y’all, I don’t have a “bikini body.” Well, we all have our strengths.

Another thing I was surprised about was all the stretch marks and cellulite on these girls. I was like, And y’all are all professional models?? But they are and they do, and only I and a few of the others had smooth thighs and butts.

Weird. Totally unexpected.
Photo credit: Clinton Lum MM# 1044400

Photographers: SoCal > NorCal

They know their way around lights, y’all.

Everyone I worked with – the magazine shoot at the beach, the hobbyist who works for a large film studio, all the guys at the group shoot – all had professional equipment and knew how to use it.

Glamour lighting is fairly easy, but many people in the SF Bay Area don’t know how to use it, even with very forgiving natural light. So kudos to the guys down there (SoCal), because they’ve one-upped the guys up here (NorCal).

My last shoot of the trip was in Bellflower, and I was to get wet… again. To think that that was the best make-up I have ever, EVER done on myself EVER… and I couldn’t keep my hair dry for that long. Sigh.

So you’ll have to forgive me as I post some vogue-ing shots to commemorate the occasion. I mean, look at those eyebrows! Sigh.

There.

(I was wearing a black tube dress. Though it would come as a surprise to NO ONE if I were naked, and eventually I was. Anyway.)

After shooting some stuff on the white, it was time to get soaked.

Y’know, I tend to make photoshoots more difficult than it really has to be.

I didn’t HAVE to lie down in the water, and I didn’t HAVE to put my face up into the shower so that the water forced my false eyelashes to fall off, and I didn’t HAVE to work as hard as I did.

But I did. And I usually do.

Sad face because I was freezing and my false eyelashes fell off.

Terrible phone reception

Imagine this: You’ve finally found the (multi-million-dollar) house of your dreams with a view of the ocean deep in Malibu. You take your cellphone out to text or call your friends/family, but there’s NO CELLPHONE RECEPTION.

Thankfully, there was reception up in Beverly Hills, where I took part in a little group shoot held by D&K. (That’s Drew and Karl, two buddy glamour photographers who put up these things around L.A. and one in Las Vegas… which I wish I could go to, but meh – transportation costs.)

That big house in the back? That’s mine.

(The joke here is you’re supposed to say, “Which one?” Did you get it? Nah, that’s okay.)

There are as many pervs down there as there are up here.

Oh yeah, so Malibu. We were shooting nudes at this beach and there was this guy who claimed to be a location scout, which is fine and all, but there’s no reason to come over to our side of the beach TWICE. I mean, the first time you were scouting; the second time, you were just being a creep.

And is there really any need for a telephoto lens when you’re location scouting? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

DON’T BE SHOOTING MY BARE ASS WITHOUT PAYING ME, M’KAY. This ain’t free!

Anyway, I don’t usually eat that much before a shoot, but I indulged in a seafood burger at Paradise Cove.

Some seafood are not meant to be paired with others. But it was alright.

It was a pretty good trip that turned into a little vacation for us. Sorta.

Oh, who am I kidding??

IT WAS F*CKING AMAZING!!!1!

I am just overwhelmed with love from Los Angeles!

I felt nervous about going because, here I am, a little Asian girl from Berkeley, with:

• tiny boobs
• pubic hair
• no exposure in Southern California

but many photographers really liked me!

The most common feedback (and I got a lot of it) is I’m fun and have personality along with a pretty face. You do not understand how much that means to me.

This trip really drove home this realization, which only came to me about two weeks before I made the trip southward:

Personality goes a very long way.

One of the photographers at the group shoot told me that I’m the most fun model there. Another said it’s nice that I’m smart. Several said that I pose very well. There was another one whose sentences I kept finishing and we had a grand ol’ time talking over lunch and after lunch.

(That is much more than I can say for some anti-social models, who hid when they weren’t shooting. Oh, and those photographers who gave me a wide berth as though I had a virus and who refused to make eye contact with me or say hi to me when I said hi to them! I mean, JESUS CHRIST, didn’t your mother teach you any manners?? I understand that you have zero interest in shooting with me – yeah, it was that obvious – and of course that’s okay, but goddamn, MAN THE F*CK UP!)

A blind person could see that I wasn’t the hottest one in the bunch, but you talk and discuss, and you have a lot of energy and share some laughs, , and you do the best you can. And maybe you won’t submit any of the pictures to FHM or you have to Photoshop the hell out of them, but you get cute photos, swap name cards, have a great time, and maybe brag to your friends about what you did one Saturday. That’s what these things are for, right?

*steps off soapbox*

I guess my point is, even if you have doubts, suck it up and you may be surprised. I sure was. And I’m so glad it worked out that way because I’m already looking forward to my next trip to southern California!

Photo by Clinton Lum MM #1044400

Interview with FXM Cover & Featured Model

Check me out HERE!

Review: Campton Place

 

My first impression of the restaurant was that it suffered from an identity crisis.

The aroma of rich Indian spices wafted through the doors and filled the hotel lobby, but you walk inside and greeting you at the entrance was a vase full of… red roses??

Then you sit down on the too-low seats (which, thankfully, came with small cushions for my back) and look at the menu, and there’s nothing Indian on it!

The restaurant was very modern, Asian-ish… as though one person started off modern minimalist who then quit, then an Asian-style decorator finished the job. It was so off-putting.

It would appear that the only thing Indian about Campton Place is the chef, so just ignore the smell and the very Asian color palette.

Oh oh, and you know what? There were little rectangular cushions to keep your purse off the floor… which were covered with some kind of Asian silk fabric!

Man, was I confused, but I don’t think I was the only one.

The food was delicious, though none of them had any trace of Asian spice… or any spice, for that matter.

The asparagus soup was supposed to come with a quail egg; it was a chicken egg, or a huge-ass mutant quail. (I checked the menu on the website and it now says hen egg. Interesting. I know that the menu has been changed because at the restaurant, there was one more dessert – a citrus one. Anyway.)

The asparagus soup didn’t taste a lot of asparagus – maybe a little, if you cleansed your palate beforehand and really concentrated. Other than that, the only other way you can tell that it’s asparagus soup is the presence of two tiny little asparagus tips… UNDERCOOKED asparagus tips.

The halibut was a solid piece of halibut. It was well-done, but not special. The mussels that went along were okay, but eaten with the mushrooms and carrots, were really out of place. The pea vichyssoise tasted very faintly of mussels, which was nice, but definitely did not taste like peas, though it went okay with the fish.

The food isn’t all bad at Campton Place. THE FRIES ARE DIVINE.

THE FRIES ARE DIVINE.

I had to say it twice to make sure you didn’t miss it the first time.

 

THE FRIES ARE DIVINE.

If you order only one thing, make it the side of french fries. Crispy and delicious (a little too perfect to be made fresh, but I give them the benefit of the doubt that it was not pre-frozen), perfectly salted and flavored and so so satisfying on its own!

Okay, I’m done.

The vanilla panna cotta tasted so artificial, so sugary. I’m pretty sure that it was made with faux vanilla extract. The blueberry compote was nice… except aren’t compotes usually cooked? I mean, the blueberries in there tasted pretty fresh, and the compote was not warm, sooooooo… huh?

As if I wasn’t confused enough, my date (the Husband) informed me that the restaurant had one Michelin star, to which I replied:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! You gotta be f*ckin’ kidding me!

That Michelin star must’ve been awarded while under the influence, because there ain’t no WAY that ho-hum meal was delicious enough! Nor was the service anywhere up to par with other worthy restaurants!

Here are my theories as to why that lunch was so underwhelming:

1. Many restaurants do dinner best.
2. The head chef was out overseeing his secret Indian restaurant, leaving the kitchen to a less-experienced cook.
3. Quantity over quality. As long as they draw patrons in with a relatively low-priced menu and ambience, who cares if the food isn’t stupendous?

I won’t be going back to Campton Place. You’d think at least they couldn’t screw up cocktails, right?

You would be wrong.

The pear bellini, which the bartender claimed to have invented completely unaware that anyone else had done it, didn’t taste a smidgen like pear. To me and Husband, it was Unidentifiable-Fruit-Substance mixed with mediocre white wine. Sigh.

At least the fries were good.

Well-developed Calves – I haz dem!

Anyone who has spent any significant amount of time in the San Francisco Bay Area will know that very many people talk to themselves.

So it was with some bemusement that, while waiting for the BART train, I hear a cyclist (carrying his bike over his shoulder) say as he walked by, “Very well-developed calves.”

It was pretty clear that he was referring to me because the only other person on my side of the station was wearing pants.

But the funny thing was, he said it with the tone of voice one would use to talk about the weathers, so matter-of-factly. An indisputable statement: “Very well-developed calves.”

It so made my afternoon. After all, serious cyclists are the authority on calves. If you’ve ever seen one (and there are many around here), they have sinewy limbs and barely any fat at all.

So who am I to disagree?

A Little Picture Post

I only recently discovered the amazing deliciousness that is Greek yogurt with honey. So much better than regular yogurt, and definitely better than  “honey-flavored Greek yogurt” with added sugar.

The only problem with that is dairy products make me gain fat… or retain it… or maybe it’s water weight? I dunno, but my thighs and tummy get a little squishier when I eat a lot of dairy. And as soon as I stop, the fat disappears.

All things in moderation, Jenna. Eating Greek yogurt with hone twice a day every day for a week probably isn’t the best thing.

I got this super bad-ass hoodie jacket from Modcloth and I knew Athena would be able to pull it off.

Except she couldn’t see and, when you take off the hoodie, her ears are back as far as they could go, making her look like she’s expecting a beheading.

This is very old news, but I have a pet rosy boa named Ty.

He’s a snake. He eats live mice, not that frozen crap.

I finally managed to take a decent photo of him during mealtime.

Yum.

A news crew showed up in front of our house one morning and they were there nearly the entire day.

Some asshole arsonist came through our quiet little street in our quiet little part of town to set fire to one neighbor’s car and another neighbor’s porch.

I hope that asshole gets hit by a bus.

I do not understand the psychology of arsonists. “Oh man, it would be so cool to set a stranger’s house on fire!”

I don’t get it.

Spending ten out of fourteen days writing for the magazine leaves me a little lacking in enthusiasm and energy for recreational writing. When I’m not doing all the little things I need to do or experimenting in the kitchen (my latest invention: the ginger cupcake), I’m playing Facebook games. The latest one is “Monster Galaxy,” which is basically Pokémon.

When we were younger, my eldest brother would disappear into the study for hours at a time – we’re talking as many as 15 hours per day, emerging only for minimal sustenance and potty breaks – playing RPGs on the computer. There was this one game he was obsessed about, but I couldn’t get into it because I was afraid of “dying.” Ma would get so angry because he would miss meals – he was already scrawny – and be totally anti-social.

So when I found this game and find myself still awake at half-past-two, that memory emerged and I thought, Oh crap. I spend a significant part of my day on the computer anyway – when I’m not writing, I’m looking for castings and photoshoots and replying e-mails – and the husband really doesn’t like it, so getting hooked on this silly little game is just gonna get me into trouble.

Another thing that has been occupying brain space is the hyphen. More accurately, many hyphens – too many? (Oops, I did it again.) First, I don’t know many Americans who even call it a hyphen anymore – it’s been a “dash” since elementary school. Second, I think I’m overusing it. This happened with semi-colons and I kinda got over that, but now I feel like I’m confusing the hyphen with the semi-colon. Can one be used in place of the other? Is there supposed to be a hyphen between “semi” and “colon”?

And am I the only person who tends to put the question on the outside of quotation marks if it’s not dialogue?

Maybe I need to go back to school, but not to study Chemistry. Maybe Business or Journalism. I feel as confused now as I did at the end of Secondary Four, when each of my teachers suggested I study their subject. Dudes, just because I got A’s on all of my subjects doesn’t mean I’m particularly gifted in them, okay? I just studied like a mofo on three hours of sleep a night for a week and a half. A lotta good that’s doing me now – I don’t even remember the terms of the Treaty of Versailles anymore.

End.

 

To Aspiring Fine Art Photographers

If you can’t tell the difference between a glamour photo and a fine art photo…

If you open up a Helmut Newton photo book and have to ask why it’s considered fine art…

If you struggle to create a fine art photo and don’t know how to get there…

If you have to copy another fine art photographer’s lighting set-up in order to make your own fine art photo…

If you think that all it takes to make a glamour photo into a fine art photo is having the model look away from the camera…

If you need the opinions of others to know if you’re closer to making fine art…

If you even think that it’s possible for you to become “closer to” or “further away” from fine art, as though it’s a destination you can travel to…

If you have to ask what it is…

THEN YOU WILL NEVER GET IT.

Fantasy vs Reality

What happened in my mind:

Me: Please don’t feed my dog.
Him: [feeds my dog]
Me: I JUST SAID “DON’T FEED MY DOG.” WHY DID YOU FEED HER??
Him: Sorry.
Me: WHY DON’T YOU SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT, YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE WITH SHIT FOR BRAINS?? I HOPE YOU GET HIT BY A BUS!

What actually happened:

Me: Please don’t feed my dog.
Him: [feeds my dog]
Me: I JUST SAID “DON’T FEED MY DOG.” WHY DID YOU FEED HER??
Him: Sorry.
Me: [grumble]

Sigh.