Glam Rock

March 19, 2013 0

I like to be honest with you all: this is an All-Hail-Anja-Konstantinova masquerading as behind the scenes photos.

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I am not a model. I would never claim to be a model. But you have photos of you in fashion and stuff, says my brother – aren’t you a model? I’m five foot five and a half on a good day, I say. I only do centimetres, he says.

Anja Konstantinova is five foot four and a half, but she’s definitely a model. Rather, she’s a model. In my time shooting, working behind the scenes, styling and Instagram-ing, I haven’t seen another Australian girl (except, I’d say, Madi Borbely and Annabella Barber) understand clothes and concepts, and move accordingly, quite so well. For that reason (and perhaps some credit to that jawline, Lara Stone pout, and razor gaze) she’s rarely in the country anymore. Tokyo was definitely her favourite, she exclaimed – straight after this RMK shoot, she was back on a big jet plane to Japan Land.

This RMK shoot! Pardon me, I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be telling you about that overcast day on Cockatoo Island, and not obsessing over Anja’s talent (though if you’ll allow it, let’s do both). Three very well-versed photographers, too many shoes, one Anja, Mr Max May, Peter and my invisible self observing the same creative process three times over, but with very different results.

Round one: Glam Rock, with Byron Spencer‘s luxe grunge lens, and Miss Anja was very much in her element. I for one, had never known that Max was freaking awesome at doing hair too (lesson one). Anja never posed – rather, she acted (but always into the light). It was never about placing a hand on her forehead and frowning, or calculating optimal angles to place her arms (granted, most models don’t even consider this much). Instead, she took up the persona ofย that boy with a troubled past and a private love affair with David Bowie. In boots, she was a punk rocker with minimal worldly care and maximum sex appeal. The set would have been silent but for curious seagulls, iPhone camera captures, and Byron’s occasional “Can you…?” and silence again when Anja read his mind.

I would have kept rambling and published the lot of my snaps all at once, but for fear of image overload, I’ll call it a day to be continued.

Dot dot dot…

(But I did a bunch of Q&A’s with all kidlings involved, so this is not good bye).

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