61 Frames Per Second by John Constantine Today in Nerve's videogame blog: Street Fighter. The movie. A new one. With that chick from that Superman show. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about!
The Remote Island by Bryan Christian Mad Men's January Jones struts her stuff in Vanity Fair. Plus: Damages returns, the latest Gossip Girl guest star and Donna Martin capitulates.
Nerve.com is tickled pink to introduce our new photo blogger, Matt Sharkey.
Many talented photographers cross our path, and we try to keep the "conversation" they have on our pages dynamic and original. We added Matt’s voice because his work is markedly distinct from our other bloggers's, both in images and words. His view of the world and of women is soft, the feelings of a romantic through and through. Each of Matt’s images has two subjects:
a nude woman, quietly beautiful, and an equally subtle color and light that surround her. They are subdued, yes, but filled with life. Each image is awash in the beauty of his subjects, allowing the viewer intimate access both to the moments captured and the fantastically beautiful women they celebrate.
Matt Sharkey got commissioned to do his first nude shoot by a girl who wanted to send photos to her ex-boyfriend to show him what he was missing. In his later twenties, he met the woman who became his wife, and soon after, he slowly and systematically began shooting all of her friends naked. Not long before his wedding, Matt discovered that his grandfather had shot catalogs of nudes between 1948 and 1954 and was then able to blame his interest on inherited genes — every pervert needs an excuse.
Most of his subjects have only been photographed nude by their own lovers, if at all. The rest are adult film stars who have been shot by hundreds of photographers, but never as naturally as he captures them. Sharkey is addicted to natural light and refuses to shoot in a studio environment. He likes his subjects to be in the familiar surroundings of their own homes or outdoors, and without make-up or jewelry.
Matt, his wife, and two sons live thirty minutes north of San Francisco in a small mountain town. All the neighbors know each other by name. If only they knew what he was shooting. — Agatha Wasilewska
