CThru.com Presents Tony Ward

Dutch Beauty

THE ART OF FEASTING
Posted by Mashed Up

What would happen if we human beings were not restricted? The absence of restriction would leave us with complete freedom. However, this freedom would then lose its value. We know what freedom is because we know the definition of a restriction. We appreciate freedom because we know what it feels like to be limited. But when do we feel restricted? For most of us it means that we cannot spend our time in a way we want, and generally speaking we tend to say that we are free in the evenings and weekends as we have obligations such as work during the week.

Club Life

We say things such as: “I am looking forward to the weekend” and “I am free at six”. We are eager to do something nice in the weekend because we think that our free time is valuable. We say for example, “I feel like doing something nice” or “I want to do something nice” and we go and look for it at places that provide us with ” that certain something nice”.

Free At Six

A party is a social gathering for pleasure and amusement. But what actually happens when we enter a well organized party? The music, lights and decoration will immediately appeal to our senses. We see lights, dancers and faces. We hear music and the interior and decoration surrounds us in shape. We arrive here and become a part of a different world and a different context.

Photos By Eric Soenens

……. To learn more about Mashed Up log on to www.mashedup.nl

Natascha & Olga At The Royal Monceau, Paris

……….Natascha and Olga agreed to meet me in the lobby of the Royal Monceau where we would check in for the shoot of the day. I arrived at the check in desk only to find that the models got there earlier than me, and were waiting at the lobby bar/lounge to have a drink. Those two girls new how to get around. As soon as I noticed them seated in the lounge with drinks in hand, there were several Arab sheiks hovering around them, curious I’m sure as to who they were. Sting was having a drink at the bar just a few feet away.

Our room wasn’t ready so I joined the girls at the lounge to soak in the sights and sounds. Suddenly I heard a loud voice coming from the check in desk of a man screaming at the top of his lungs, “Where is my baggage, Where is my baggage” repeatedly. I noticed a man yelling at the concierge, it was Helmut Newton and his wife June close behind.

I immediately felt like a little boy watching a cartoon character of one of his idols in real time. at that moment, I didn’t know quite what to say or do. I was speechless. I always wanted to meet Helmut Newton and I had learned through some German contacts that he was becoming familiar with my work as well. I told the girls who he was, and they suggested that I introduce myself if the opportunity presented itself.

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Well it did. Helmut got everything straightened out with the concierge about the missing baggage. I’m sure like any photographer he was afraid that perhaps his equipment was lost. No doubt he was probably there to do some shooting. He and June walked over to the elevator to check in to their room. That was my chance as they were just in front of me. I finally mustered the hutzpah to approach him. As I rose to my feet, the elevator door opened and Helmut and June proceeded to enter the lift. I got to the door just as it was about to close. Helmut pushed the open door button for me. That was it!

To see the entire sitting of Natascha and Olga and more Erotica from the Tony Ward archives, log on to tonyward.com

Natascha & Olga

……….I was in a meeting with my former magazine editor Dian Hanson at her Leg Show office in New York, when she casually mentioned that she was going to be photographed by Helmut Newton for this Sumo sized book that he was publishing with Benedict Taschen. It sounded like an interesting project and I was delighted to hear that Ms. Hanson was invited to Paris to have her portrait taken by the grand master.

She mentioned that Helmut was staying at The Royal Monceau on a regular basis and doing some shooting there. I also enjoy shooting in great hotels myself so Dian suggested I check it out the next time I visited Paris. It just so happened that I had already made arrangements to photograph two Russian models from St. Petersburg, on location in Paris for Penthouse a week earlier, so I decided to book a suite at the Monceau instead of my usual place, The Hotel Regina just a short cab drive away.

To be continued…………….

Alexandra

……….We agreed to meet for dinner at a tiny quaint restaurant just off the Rue de Rivoli. A charming enough place with fine French cuisine to discuss the shoot we were about to embark upon the following day at my hotel suite in Paris. Alexandra was born and raised in France and lived just outside the ring, so I knew she would pick a good place to dine.

She completely embodied my idea of a beautiful French woman, and possessed the confidence in front of the camera to portray the role I wished for her to play. If there is any hotel that sets the mood for a classic erotic sitting, its Hotel Regina, a place that I frequent when I stay in Paris. If your looking to travel and want good old fashioned French charm, this is the place.

The grand old hotel is uniquely located at the corner of Rue de Rivoli and Place des Pyramides, facing the Louvre and the famous Tuileries Gardens. All of the bedrooms are furnished in Louis XV and Louis XVI decorative styles, contemporary it is not.

Alexandra easily felt at home and we quickly moved through a series of poses that she planned. Her experience as a well known nude model for some of France’s finest photographers made my work for the day, quite easy and relaxing.

Just remember, Alexandra does not come with the room. The hotel is a BYOB, bring your own babe………………..

Camden, New Jersey 2010

Posted by John Gialuco

……….Part 1 – My mother, Evelyn Gialuco, hired Whitey, a painter and his dog Mugsy, to paint our home because she wanted to sell it and move back to Camden with her sister Sistina. Whitey owned a large Winnebago and would often park and sleep in our driveway at night. Well Whitey had been painting for a month or so and mom would often cook and feed Whitey and Mugsy when he stayed over. So as time passed I noticed that she and Whitey were becoming an item. My father, her husband, had died the previous year and mom was feeling a bit lonely. How I knew they were getting more than chummy was because I would come home late on a Friday or Saturday night and Whitey’s Winnebago would be rocking and bouncing back and forth just like in Cheech and Chong ’s movie, ‘Up in Smoke’ with their trailer scene. Well anyway, Whitey had this wonderful dog Mugsy. Mugsy was never trained, he was the smartest dog I ever knew, and he never had a bath except when he went swimming at the lake or the ocean. The only time I saw Mugsy get washed was right after he was sprayed by a skunk at 3 am in the morning. Mom and Whitey had to wash him with tomato juice for about an hour and everyone went back to bed. A year later Whitey died in my mother’s arms from cancer. I should add that my father also died in my mother’s arms as well. Subsequently whenever my mother wanted to give me a hug because I was going away for a few days I usually declined mom’s hug’s. Well you understand. So a year later Mugsy became very ill and mom couldn’t watch him suffer any longer so she asked me to take him to the vet and put him to sleep.

Part 2 – When the vet called us a week later and asked us to pick up the ashes, Mom admonished me to not bring Mugsy back into the house. She needed time to adjust to her loss, but to bring him back into our shed which was in the rear of the property. As I left the house mom screamed “Do not leave his ashes in your car, put him in back…did you HEAR me?”…yes mom. So I picked Mugsy up at the vet and since I had never seen ashes from a cremation before, I opened the lid of this beautiful oriental embossed tin container which very much reminded me of a red picnic basket. Well the ashes were a pure white powder with small clumps of ash which looked like bits of hard salt. So I put Mugsy and his new home in back of the trunk of my 1987 Volvo and that was it. When I walked into the house mom asked me if I had put Mugsy in the shed and of course I said I did. Not.

Part 3 – Some months later I was hosting a talk and video on how to learn about the unlawful aspects of the IRS with about 20 interested people. Since a friend was letting us use her apartment in West Philly I threw some material in the Volvo’s trunk for demonstration reasons. After carrying the last load up to Catherine’s apartment I apparently left the key in the trunk of the Volvo. So after a rocking good IRS party, 5 hours later, I left to go home and guess what? The Volvo had been stolen! It is one of the worst feelings you will ever have, when you finally admit that your car has been stolen after tortuous hours of crawling through every surrounding street looking for your car. It’s like your parents just revealed to you that you were adopted at the very moment you are about to blow out the birthday candles to celebratie your 21st birthday. When I finally got home and told my mother that the car was stolen in Philly, the first words out of her mouth was, “WHERE”S MUGSY? I distinctly remember the last thoughts I had as I was rapidly fleeing the back door of the house and being pursued by a well aimed broom, which my mother hurled at me with the accuracy of a South American forest head hunter’s blow gun. My mother had honed her throwing abilities through the fine art of cleaning and vacuuming for nearly 70 years. In her day she could have faced any Samurai with her well made corn broom, scorn and not show a bit of fear. I returned days later to a calmer mom.

Mugsy

Part 4 – 43 days later I got a call from the Philadelphia police telling me that my car was found up in the Bronx, NYC. As I was leaving the house to take a train to NY my mother told me to make sure that Mugsy was to be the first thing coming through the garage door when I returned…Yes Mom. Upon arriving at Grand Central station I boarded a subway going uptown to the Bronx. Riding from Midtown NY to the Bronx was a super lesson in paranoia. As the subway left upper Manhattan into Harlem, I notice that the folks who have laptops, jewelery and better clothes began to leave the car at each stop. As we entered Harlem the hip hop, goths, mental escapees and such, started boarding the subway to continue the ride uptown. Once we got into the lower Bronx near the Bronx Zoo those folks began to get off the train and replaced with the hard core human beings, The Warlocks, Saurons, Melkors, Borg types and an occasional Gollum and Hannibal Lecter.

Part 5 – After 40 minutes of this amusement ride I found out that I took the wrong train! Instead of getting on the East Bronx train I took the West Bronx train. So now I had to go back down to Grand Central and start all over again with that now familiar paranoia I obtained on the West side ride. On one stop in Harlem about 75 cops and security people boarded the cars and this made me feel much better and I relaxed my hand off the back of my ass which I was using to protect my wallet. As we rolled into the Bronx, small packs of cops disembarked at various stops along the way to go to work. Upon arriving at my stop, around 180th street, I had to walk some 10 blocks or so to a street that was lined with junk yard after junk yard after junk yard. When I finally found my junk yard and entered the office, I noticed that behind the long counter was a couple of shelves with hundreds of car radios which were for sale. I intuitively knew that my thoughtfully chosen and expensive Volvo radio was once up on those shelves never to be heard from again.

Final Part – So I found my car parked amongst hundreds of other stolen and junked vehicles, and after clearing the front seat of at least 40 parking tickets, which the Manhattan police kindly kept throwing into the unlocked car for the month or so, I started the engine with no problem. I immediately checked the glove compartment for my stuff and saw that everything but a Norelco razor was still there. I quickly went back to the Volvo trunk and saw that everything was in place … EXCEPT…. Mugsy and his newly occupied red tin dog house. While driving back home for 90 miles I was thinking about my fears, my fears and pain of facing Mom as I prepared to tell her t Mugsy was gone forever. I also realized that whoever stole my Volvo, I figured it was probably a bunch of kids having a joy ride, and that they eventually found Mugsy in the trunk, his ashes and believed they had found a large stash of Cocaine. So as any upright carjackers would do they started snorting Mugsy. I am sure at the days end somewhere in NYC a group of young men could be seen pissing on trees with one leg raised in the air so as to leave their marks while Howling at the full Moon.

Mr John

……….Philadelphia native son Dean Rosensweig and several other artists will be participating in a group show in Berlin, Germany at the art gallery, Stattbad Wedding, opening on February 5th, 2010. Mr. Rosensweig has been residing in Berlin for the past five years. The other artists participating in the exhibition are Mateo, Pauline Raguin and Kyoto Motel. The Studio wishes all of these talented artists a successful opening.

Pauline Raguin

Kyoto Motel

Dean Rosensweig

A Story Of Struggle And Successful Reform

Posted By John Grant

……….Reform comes slowly and not without a struggle. Here’s a joyous example from El Salvador. On a June trip I visited Oscar Romero University in Chalatenango province, a former rebel zone of much fighting. Now, there are kids with cell phones and laptops walking around campus. My friends Francisco and Barbara Acosta, in the photo below, founded the university 18 years ago, but for a number of years they have been in a fight with a small group of usurpers who, under the right-wing ARENA government, took over to fraudulently soak the university for their own interests. The 2009 election of President Mauricio Funes, from the FMLN Party, has meant a shift in political control to the left in El Salvador, though the current political climate is tricky. In November, the Salvadoran Ministry of Education officially recognized a new administration for the university. The old administration, however, did not agree to leave gracefully.

Group Portrait By John Grant

……….Francisco Acosta is a former seminarian and a highly-respected Salvadoran activist/diplomat. He was born and raised in the shadow of the Guazapa Volcano, which became a strong rebel zone during the war years. Many of his family members were killed before and during the war. He and his wife Barbara have been devoted to getting control of the university back into the hands of the Salvadoran people Oscar Romero fought so hard for and died for. It has not been an easy fight. After the Ministry Of Education’s November ruling, the struggle culminated in a four day standoff with the rector from the past administration who refused to leave his office and brought in armed gang members in an effort to hold onto his power. During the standoff, students demonstrated at the school’s gate. Finally the outgoing rector saw the light and left on January 28, allowing the school to be turned over to the good guys. It was a time for rejoicing and partying. 

Hollywood And Vine, Los Angeles

……….The last time Ed and I were at the beach together, the weather couldn’t have been more perfect. Our mood seemed to match the calm of the sea as we enjoyed the sunshine, surf, and the beautiful women that bask in the light at the Jersey shore during the summer months. We brought our beach chairs along, some food and beverage as we positioned ourselves as close to the beauties as possible. Ed also brought along a half dozen or so empty plastic containers.

W Hotel Ground, Los Angeles

……….Besides the prolific writing on his blog, Ed’s first love (besides women) is his photography. He had been telling me about his idea of mixing in salts from the sea into his printmaking process. Somehow he claimed, he was able to distinguish the tonal effects that Atlantic Ocean water salts had on the tone of his prints, compared to printing in Pacific Ocean water for example. Thus, it was imperative for him to bring some East coast water along with him when he returned to Los Angeles, where he would resume a number of photographic projects; including the documentation of the construction of the new W hotel, that recently broke ground at the vicinity of Hollywood and Vine.

Job Site

………..The printmaking master discretely made periodic trips down to the shore line to gobble up ocean water, while the beauties were wondering what on Earth he was doing. I felt for sure everyone at the beach thought we were two weirdos, sitting there with empty bottles, and then periodically filling each of them up with the sometimes suspect ocean water, knowing full well we couldn’t drink it. Undeterred by my thought’s, Ed remained vigilant with his plan until all the containers were filled to the brim. Strangely enough the beauties started gathering around us……..

Construction

……….Ed got back to Los Angeles eager to begin the alchemystic process of printmaking the old fashioned way, in a dark room. He called from time to time to let me know that he added the Jersey shore water to his chemisty and continued to notice a difference in the distinct oceanic effects on the making of his prints. On a subsequent return trip to Philadelphia, with prints from the W Hotel project in tow, I met with Ed to see the results of our summer excursion to the Jersey shore. I was most impressed. To learn more about Ed Simmons photographs, log on to his blog at www.yeeha.org/art.

Ed Simmons: Photographer

Members Only

…….An artist is never far away from his work. While vacationing in Ibiza with his family, TW met Nancy at a night club while she was go go dancing the night away. The following day, they were shooting on the amazing beaches of the Spanish Island. To see the entire sitting and more Erotica from the Tony Ward archives, log on to: tonyward.com

Portrait Of Yoko, New Years Eve, 2009

Posted by Yoko Grosshans

……..Ever since I was three years old, my parents’ traveled a lot. From that early age I had a golden opportunity to visit places all around the world. My father’s job as an environmental chemical engineer, required extensive travel and not wanting to miss time spent with his children and wife, he chose to bring us along on many occasions. Mom and dad instilled in me a passion for having an open mind to new and different cultures which eventually led to my yearning to become a photojournalist.

Traveler

In my early teens, dad introduced me to photography which taught me the importance of developing both verbal and visual communications. Those early influences got me interested in studying photography and communications in college at Temple University and Tyler School of Art. I remember the very first photographic opportunity, when I traveled throughout Southeast Asia for a year with camera in hand like it was yesterday. I spent four months in India where I had the pleasure of studying with the gracious, tender and loving Dalai Lama for an extended period.

Yoko's Lingerie By Victoria's Secret

Richard Gere happened to be visiting his holiness at the same time, which made the experience additionally memorable. I would have to write a book to express all the other experiences I treasured while visiting the ancient country of India. The 4 months I spent in Nepal were also incredibly memorable. To live on a mountaintop and wake up every morning surrounded by the Himalayas is indescribable.

Yoko's Makeup Ashley Bohl For Mac

The time I spent in Thailand was beautifully crazy, if that makes any sense. In Bangkok, The Red Light District brought me a sense of sadness, but the full moon parties were a blast. I enjoyed the islands which were so calm and serene and where I also learned to scuba dive was a cherished moment . How does one sum up year’s worth of experience? Perhaps there will be more stories to tell…..