Managing one’s life is a time consuming task. A skill I’m still developing. Sometimes conditions are overwhelming when you’re swimming against a tide and clamour with stolid ignorance.

Me throwing in the towel while in anguish and sheer rage of personal boundaries having been crossed, brought out nine individuals; a combination of friends & industry professionals, who understood my bigger picture, from the start, along with the how and why Anidea was created and where this fictional character is going and how it would impact and possibly influence my daily life, to remind me to focus and not quit just when we are making progress.

Letting it all lay bare

Letting it all lay bare in dry ice

Letting it all lay bare in dry ice

If it weren’t for my dearest, now no less than, seven frienemies… Actually, haters drinking haterade… I would not be so blessed with sudden new doors opening to Anidea and my mask: Natasha.

I bless these unnamed, for privacy reasons, persons for readjusting my blinders. I was on the fence about Anidea for quite some time, as it’s very hard to find projects that suit my category. Most models/ modellers in the industry want to shoot pretty and cute pictures to advertise their prettiness. And many photographers like doing that sort of thing. It’s not really my sort of thing. I’m not using Anidea to validate my level of beauty, though my ego does get fluffed every so often. It’s nice being considered a minimum “sexy” or “desirable” by the conventional mind, but I just don’t feel that assertion. It’s nice, but not my hunger.

Anidea is an outlet for my fellow brown skins to say: I’m ok with who I am, even though I’m not basic issue. I’ve received overwhelming feedback from fellow mothers, wives and regular oddballs that the existence of Anidea, somehow, gives them confidence and joy. This pleases me. I’m using Anidea as an outlet for my volcanic creativity too. Such is life.

The fundamental aim, besides garnering some dope gear/ shoes/ tattoos, is to prove that Jane Soap can do whatever the flying-duck she wants. With the exception of murder. Murder is bad. Very bad. I am art, but I aim to be living breathing art that is fluid through other people’s pictorial musings. I want my finger print on every project pie I consume. I want chunks of me carved and twisted into topical images.

I want to live forever!!!! Nya Nya Nyaaahhh!

I’ve always been a person that lived outside of social norms; I’m that person who chooses option G when jammed to choose between option A and B. It surprises me no end that many people I’ve endured making social acquaintance with try to incorporate me and mine into their Disney Dreams & life. For instance, my private life with my husband coming under scrutiny annoys me. “Good Samaritans” who have a dire need to host deliberations with my companion, based on their own unions, lifestyle and life choices.

He is not an idiot.

This is not what he wants.

This is not what he wants.

We have our own agreements and lifestyle. If you don’t know what makes us tick and you don’t know the whole story (not that we’d bother to tell it) then: Move on.

We don’t lay in bed late at night discussing friends and other couples issues. We don’t pick sides between friends at war. We kinda suck, because we are indifferent to passing on the gossip envelope. It was a journey getting to this stage, but we are good friends who will see you for who you are and let you be. Why can others not garner us the same respect?

Because it’s entertaining trying to split up a union, right?

But, I digress.

Another issue that gets me blue in the face is the inherent coat tailing by some. Basic rule with doing professional exposure through me: Pay me or “share for share”. As simple as that. One person who’s been amazing and professional is Massalo from Massalo Photography, check his work here and here. Tip: Click on the words “here”. He would never ever have to pay me for my shout outs.

Even though it is tough being a brown skin who isn’t looking for acceptance, but rather the unusual in a very controlled industry, 2014 looks to be a battle between my daytime occupancy and my alter ego. But one thing I do know is that I will not downgrade my personality or essence for mere strangers to be able to sleep better at night.

Currently I’m writing a little coffee table thing with a few other women about being different and/ or socially accepted and the pressures of both. Also busy with another project which I’ll only brag about once things are signed and monies are paid and flights are booked. I’m kinda excited.

I collabed with Dion Tromp to do an E;ements inspired set

I collabed with Dion Tromp to do an Elements inspired set

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.” -Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full Of Sky


I am female. That is all.

August 23, 2013

Feminism is a double sided blade that slits many a user’s own tongue. Some think it’s to demand equality by being treated like a man. Plenty think it’s to hate men. Misogynists regard it as women who refuse to follow “religious” instruction on the role of a woman. I think it’s to know yourself and know what you want and be confident enough to handle your process of existence. So I, confidently and firmly, readjust my rose tinted glasses in the mirror and I say: Your sex is just your sexual reproductive organs and shouldn’t precede your persona. Your sex is part of your persona, but not all of it.”

When you’re handed lemons, Google “uses for lemons”.

And all that I can see, is just another yellow lemon tree

And all that I can see, is just another yellow lemon tree

Which includes skin lightening, lemon as a disinfectant,

I consider Kim Kardashian a feminist. I don’t admire her and am pretty indifferent to her lifestyle, but I respect her and I love her shoes. To those unfamiliar with Miss Kim Kardashian, she is a female, she has sex sometimes and she has a baby. Oh, and then-boyfriend put a homemade montage of her having relationship sex with him on the internet. And years after that he released a song named: “I hit it first”.

What did said woman do after having her sexuality & sexual activity paraded, criticized, scrutinized and being “slut shamed”? She decided not to take it lying down.  She grew a thick skin and turned her circumstances on its head by grasping the media attention by opening a boutique store (she’d been a fashion item reseller before the sudden popularity of what and who her vagina did) and bagged a TV show that, in a way, pays the way for the “whore” label to sting less and make amends with her family. I have no clue in what order this all came in, but I know the sex thing happened first.

The best way to attack a female is to attack her vagina: Mentally, physically and publically. This woman refused to just cry and commit suicide. She made lemon juice, perfumes, and clothing and made herself walk tall in her fabulous high heeled shoes even when pregnant. She’s a feminist because she believes in herself and surrounds herself with people who do too.

Because its always awesome to bash pretty girls and humiliate them because you saw their rose bud.

Because its always awesome to bash pretty girls and humiliate them because you saw their rose bud.

Some useless information to concider: Over 2 million people viewed her notorious home sex tape the day she got married to Chris Humphries as opposed to the usual daily 300 000 views…

Because over 300 000 people with media units, somehow, care about it.

Objects! Objects! Objects please!

Personality and fortitude trumps everything!

Personality and fortitude trumps everything!

Female sexuality is a touchy subject. It is filled with preambles, mass ambles, preconceived ideas, misunderstandings and the all condemning public judgment factor. There are so many expectations from unrecognized sexism. What is sexism? Sexism is when you choose your role or you are placed into a role or expectation limited by your sexual organs, where said notion dictates your abilities in a social, work, family, travel environment. When does it happen? Every day and moment when you interact with other persons, when you listen to music, it even happens when you choose a shampoo or feminine hygiene product.

How do you prevent it? You don’t. You just define yourself and do what works for you. You do you.

“A lady in the streets, but a freak in the bed”- Ludicris

It's safe inside the box, but all the fun happens outside of the box. Just saying.

It’s safe inside the box, but all the fun happens outside of the box. Just saying.

It’s strangely discomforting how many people I know who draw inspiration from lyrics from a hip-hop poet. It is catchy, I concede, but to base your future companion on the idea of Stepford-wife servitude is disconcerting. (Nasty Girl by Ludicris with lost of pretty girls in a modern take on CheeseCake Pin up mode)

Once we mentally leave the trammel hem in of our parental care and wander into the vast unknowns of social synergy with our peers, we bare ourselves open & witness to many interpretations of the human dream and life ambition, which I’ve come to believe, and also reject, as:

Men: Meet females, always try and shag them because that’s what men are supposed to do; get a job; marry candidate who has no sexual experience as she shouldn’t have nothing to compare you to and she’ll wear chiffon and sex is on your command; get money; own a home; get kids- don’t worry, she wants them too- doesn’t matter if you can afford to or not; have pets; buy things and stuff.

Women:  never stand out, always look like the media ideal of beauty; follow fashion fads; coy giggle, never laugh; be a fantasy; multicast multitask, apparently women are good at that; don’t have sex for fun; marry the orgasm giver, cos apparently orgasms= true love; marry; have kids, manage your weight; be owned because ‘love’ is ownership not growth alongside your companion; as a parent, make sure you sacrifice being a person because people will measure your parental ability by your capacity to be a robotical image of amicability and servitude as you’re teaching your kids how to be a human and NOT how to be human; take your frustration out on feminists and other non-conformist, passive aggressively of course; let supplementary bourgeois declare who you are because they have Big Brother cams inside your head; take tonnes of selfies in the bathroom mirror or wherever a mirror happens to show up to reassert your self confidence; buy things and stuff.

Both sexes: Live accordingly to catch phrases from music verses, because life is supposed to imitate art and please don’t forget to depend on spectators judging your life.

Because, Stepford wives are the ideal dream come true for both sexes...

Because, Stepford wives are the ideal dream come true for both sexes…

I prefer supporting everyone, of my acquaintance, in their dreams and ventures, learning from other’s failures and laughing with them like hyena’s hooked on chronic. I prefer a partner who walks beside me instead of tugging a leash around my neck. I prefer being around people who understand the differences between fantasy, ideals, criticism & positive criticism. You learn from supporting each other and trying new things, doing things differently and finding a way to make every day new and exciting for you. Men who expect their female partners to be straight out of a Cosmo-Woman’s Weekly- House & Home- GQ are just filled with self-effacing faux sincerity, they aren’t looking for a partner and women who look to such ideals are not looking to be women, they’re looking to be a maid and a sex slave. Men and women should striptease each other of the preconceptions. Just be what feels right for you and everything else will fall into place as sure as death and taxes.

Oops! I spilt some feminism! I’ll wipe it up with my ego later.

It's catchy. I like it, it's like a good sneeze

It’s catchy. I like it, it’s like a good sneeze

“If you doubt you can accomplish something, then you can’t accomplish it. You have to have confidence in your ability and then be tough enough to follow through” -Rosalyn Carter

In addendum: I decided to try out trying a Suicide Girls set. (If you click on the link I attached to the word “Suicide Girls please note that it is NSFW).

Because I am female. That is all.

In the grand scheme of things; I don’t really matter. And I don’t think having tattoos is cool. Currently, owning tattoos on one’s body seems to be heavily based on ego and status.

Tattoos have become loud visible representations of the wearer’s ideology and pretence of self. An attempt at freedom. I see the current trend as simultaneous longing to be different and inherent vanity.

I speak of persons whose tattoos wear them and who form their personality around their artwork instead of the other way around. I speak of persons, celebrity and average Joe, who wear it as a badge for an exclusive club that only allows for contrived coolness.

Are you yourself or are you acting as yourself?

Then it occurred to me…. I am offended by hipsters (shame poor hipsters get a lot of salt) and One Direction look-a-likes and trendy folks.

Personally, I know I have a sickness. A disease even. I need the tattooing process from concept of a piece; I need the implementation process and healing in order to be mentally fit to live and kill off pathogen-like thoughts. I need it as a form to smear Bepanthen over my mind. It’s a conscientious succession from wanting to scratch, bite and/ or punch people in general.

If you hang out with smokers you’ll smell like a smoker and be thought of as a smoker. That means you will be a smoker.

In part, due to my perpetual fear of conformity, tattoos have confined me. I find myself unjustly automatically categorised a member of society that breeds on superfluous “YOLO” mentality.


Abbreviation for: you only live once
The dumbass’s excuse for something stupid that they did
Also one of the most annoying abbreviations ever….

Guy 1: “Hey i heard u got that girl pregnant”
Dumbass 1: ” Ya man but hey YOLO”

Guy 1: “Hey i heard that you broke ur leg falling off the balcony at that party”
Dumbass 1: “Ya but hey YOLO”

My need for ink is not as bad as a tik-monster’s (extreme crystal meth addict) need that would get their hit anywhere, although I’ve made one or two questionable choices of tattoo artists including maliciously blinding myself and roping myself into the personality and charisma of one that was easily accessible, at that time.

I try to pretend its fashion for me. I pretend it’s for beautification. How intimate can one be in a social setting when faced with the question: “Does it mean something to you?” Is it really necessary to explain to a new found best friend whose name you cannot remember?

Or what reply can one attempt to a snark: “I’m also getting something done/ I also have, but mine have meaning though…”  Mine don’t?

"Baa Baa Black sheep"

“Baa Baa Black sheep”

“Anything popular is wrong”- Oscar Wilde

In truth, I am a basic failure at life. I don’t suck at it; I’m just a failure, for now as success is in the eye of the beholder. Regarding being a parent I find myself in a constant inner struggle. Both my kids inherited my headstrong “go large or go home”/ “let’s do this” genus and, dare I say, “fearless” nature. I’m scared for them.

But there are billions of people without tattoos who also lead my life. All I’m willing to admit is that, at times of stress, my desire for fresh ink burns deep; where I sink into an even deeper field of depression than my ordinary practice of manic depressiveness, when I am not fulfilled and nothing else matters until the itch is scratched. It’s hard to claw out of the selfishness.

Based on principle!

This is my only reason for resenting the current “coolness” of marking your body. I have developed a standard diplomatic stance when faced with giddy freshly matriculated persons showing me an insect that represents freedom that they got for R200 (Akz1800, US$20) by some guy who has a machine whose name they can’t remember. I do love hearing stories of how individual tattoos on said persons came about and I do intend to document the practice and how it thrives through the conservative South Africa and other Africa, BUT…. It irks me that insect/ eternity loop/ kanji/ flame tribal wearing persons are the main contributors to the notion of regretting having tattoos done with pathetic reasons such as: “I was drunk”: no ARTIST will touch you while inebriated, “I just wanted something sexy”: confidence is sexy, fake it till you believe it. “It was a phase”… seriously?

Because, to be relavant and add to the "YOLO" experience, and appear "Badass" you needs tattoos... Especially if you're in a boyband.

Because, to be relavant and add to the “YOLO” experience, and appear “Badass” you needs tattoos… Especially if you’re in a boyband.

And what’s the dealio with the rush to have a full bodysuit mapping your life events, history and experiences before the tender age of 28? Do people stop experiencing and living after 28? And what’s with the “tough guy/ tough gal” posturing when wicked ink sleeves reside on some character’s arms? My vanity can’t withstand it!

A generation of their own.

Should I ever be faced with any of my kids wanting ink, I would point them in the direction of a good artist along with the task of first acknowledging their motives for the desire and a vow not to denounce it after they regret it!


“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”- Vincent Van Gogh

Greg from W photography

Greg from W photography

Being naked in the nude. Oh dear. I’ve been making notes and scribbling down references on my thoughts and experiences thus far but haven’t committed the vastness via my laptop keypad onto Microsoft Word.

Words can really express my impressions.

Society is always willing to take the blame for many an injustice, imbalance and corrupted soul. Something as easy as blaming a fellow being’s mother for all the wrong they do.  As easy as the rhetoric: “Look what he did! Didn’t his mother teach him?”

Just as being a mother is not just one single entity (the title is pregnant with pretences and expectations) so is the title ‘society’. Society is not just one single entity. It is a collective. I will take this opportunity to grab that statement as a defence as to my being an individual. I am not just a single entity.

I refuse to be loaded and goaded with preconceived role-plays, biasedly based on social insecurities and self-loathing.

I’d always dreamed of ‘just fitting in’. For a while I was almost successful at mastering that trickery. I chemically relaxed my Afro with the ever popular “Brazilian Blow-dry’ process. My hair was long and I was finally considered pretty… beautiful even. I did a wardrobe revamp to pastel colours… but it slowly morphed back to black, grey and pink (my go-to colours). I purchased the highest quantity of denim jeans I have ever owned. I still have those two pairs, one of which I wear as I write this.

This aforementioned identity crisis happened most five years ago. Today I am ever grateful to have come back full circle to my inner confidence and have the strength to reject friendships based on the confining dreams and hopes of others for my life path.

Photagrapher: Alistar MU: Anidea

Photagrapher: Alistar
MU: Anidea

I am not blind to the snide remarks and comments from friends in sheep’s coats. I just choose to ignore both the friendships and the comments. Remarks such as: “Natasha, you’ve come so far, now you changing back to the way you used to be”. Instant friendship killer right there.

“You just want to show off your tattoos” I wear what I want, depending on the formality. “I’m prettier than you but you’re getting all the attention. But it’s just because of your tattoos” (I love being around people with strong personalities/ characters. “You have such a good husband, why are you doing this to him?” Didn’t know I was supposed to magically become a square the moment I said the proverbial “I do” and I’m amazed how many people who attend weddings do not pay attention to the vows spoken. Who knew. We adapted ours to our life. There were things we refused to say in a vow as it would make liars out of us both to each other.

There was nothing wrong with ‘the way I used to be’. The major change into trying to fit in was when my mentor crushed my spirit. She wanted a normal disciple. She wanted instant gratification in a can filled with dreams she wanted to experience vicariously through me. So I changed my life accordingly. But the ‘me’ inside never really died.

I am back.

What has this got to do with Alternative modelling?

Over the past six months, having worked with art, fine art, graphic art, street art, fashion & pin-up photographers. Having done nude to subject orientated work, I find that I enjoy being part of another creative person’s creations. I love being part of their story. Naked or not. If its art, it’s not porn. Even if it were the latter, it would be as classy as can get. I also realise I am to lose a lot of ‘respect’ and will be treated badly and rudely and crassly by men. And women.

I can only imagine that sort of vulgar reaction to my modelling vocation could not be indicative to the types of images I pose for, rather indicative that such self-proclaimed-Christian valued persons and advocators of augury have no decent or efficient actions and practices and prefer to act like uneducated beasts with sharp self-righteous tongues. I lay foundation not to point any fingers as I prefer to have an apt firm grasp on my creative drive.

Photagrapher: Alistar MU: Anidea

Photagrapher: Alistar
MU: Anidea

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

-Edgar Allan Poe


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