Glide Dog

“Heartbeats racing through my deep sleep,
Heavy as I go.
Skin don’t mean a thing,
Your skin don’t mean a thing, no.

I need more blood than you can pour, love,
More blood than you can pour, love.
I need more pain to remember your name,
More pain to remember your name.

Sharp teeth underneath my coat,
I’m hungry as it goes.
Shark teeth buried in your throat,
We keep it close.

‘Cause I need more blood than you can pour, love,
More blood than you can pour, love.
I need more pain to remember your name,
More pain to remember your name.
Yeah, I’m gonna need real hurt to give this real worth,
Real hurt to give this real worth.
I’m gonna need more blood than you can pour, love,
More blood than you can pour, love.

Cold to describe, I’m dripping in ice
When I glide dog,
Glide dog.

‘Cause I need more blood than you can pour, love,
More blood than you can pour, love.
I need more pain to remember your name,
More pain to remember your name.
Yeah, I’m gonna need real hurt to give this real worth,
Real hurt to give this real worth.
I’m gonna need more blood than you can pour, love,
More blood than you can pour, love.”

[ Glide Dog – Phildel ]

I honestly have no clue what the title of this song even means. Seriously, I’m in the dark. The lyrics, however, are very rich in imagery, and the melody and arrangement have a very distinct sensual undertone which I thought would be a perfect stepping stone for the photo.

 

Given her upbringing, Phildel is no stranger to violent imagery in her lyrics – I mean, look at The Wolf. This time, however, the song felt distinctly intimate and that’s the vibe I wanted my photo to have as well. One of my inspirations was Princess Margaret’s infamous 1959 birthday portrait (and also this later one from 1967) by Tony Armstrong Jones, the one with the dress pulled down so low it almost looks like a nude.

 

So fake nude from the shoulder up it is to conjure the sensuality of the song, and fake blood to evoke the violent imagery. As my theatrical blood is chilling in Trieste (and also running out), I had to make do with homemade one, for which I used blueberry juice as a dye and potato starch as a coagulant (though I might have to revise the formula).

A funny detail, I had my mother pour the “blood” on Luisa’s hand as I shot. The first few attempts didn’t have nearly enough of it to look good, so I kept saying I needed more and damn, did it all sound like the song lyrics in a genuine case of life imitating art (but for art’s sake)!

 

The real reason I went the sensual route with this song, unlike Electric Heights, was that I could easily pull it off with only Luisa modelling for it. I am demanding when I take photos, but I always prioritise my models’ comfort and boundaries, including my own, so I specifically devised this photo in a way that would not feel awkward for either of us.

It’s a lesson I think we all need to remember as artists: a work is always a collaborative effort, so we need to take everyone’s sensibilities into account. It’s a small sacrifice to pay, for when everybody’s at their ease the works produced become even better.