"When Seemal came over, with no specific agenda in mind, she asked me how I was. In some cases, you’re expected to answer, “Great! How are you?”. Most of the time, I answer honestly, much to the dismay of people who don’t want to know if I’m anything else but great.
It’s been six weeks since getting married, and it’s been a source of catharsis for others more than me. As I told Seemal that afternoon, everybody is an expert at marriage, and everyone has some sort of wisdom and advice to shower on a new bride and groom. So I asked my new husband, after swallowing my own neuroses, “Baby, I’m sure others think they understand this marriage business better than us and want the best for us, but only you and I know what you and I are about. How about we forget the rest and just do things our own way?” It might not be right, and it might not look good, but my own company has always been just as satisfying as another’s. After all, I have my own world to live in, and others are welcome to enter and leave when and how they choose.
This is my first shoot in almost two years, but it’s always felt natural to do as I please in front of a camera. The presence of a lens gives you permission automatically to be anyone and anything, to anyone. Sitting back in my living room with Seemal, as she crouched, knelt and twisted like photographers do, I said to Seemal, I’m a cat. I will be a cat for you. Ten years ago, I was a cat for about an hour a day for six weeks. It was for a theatre practice, of course. Arching my back, licking myself, lying with my belly exposed while waiting for a nice rub, it came to me like second nature. It was liberating. I can now confirm that cats have more fun than blonds. Yes, I’ve been blond before, so I can say that."