In every model's life there are moments when beauty is a curse. Aisha turns 18 this month and is immediately burdened by the freedom of choice: to model or to nurse Mother Nature? She loves the camera. She feels the Earth wailing every time she crumples up the plastic containers filled with leftovers she will never eat. Does she give in to the pleasure of possibility or fight against the profiteers? What is her choice? She thinks about it, and my shutter opens; we've conspired to make her ugly, which any model knows is a chance to look beautiful, damaged, discarded, that fantasy every pretty face has, of finally reflecting the tortured inner landscapes we all deny. She is still pretty despite the smudged makeup, but the planet is a harsh judge and she feels its pull. Glamour or gravity? She thinks about it.
