1923 to 2008.

The first time I saw a picture of Bettie Page I was fifteen years old. She didn't make me realise that I liked women, kink, pornography, or dangerous shoes; I was well aware of all of that already. But I remember wondering what that figure in that lingerie stripped and tied to a chair would have done to a boy in 1951. It took me some time to realise that it couldn't have been any different than what it did to me in 1998. It wasn't her body that was shocking and rare and new to me: it was the past. She was the first hint I had that the shoes were better once, that a garter belt could be so devastating, that there had been such playful innocence in the world. She changed my tastes for the better, and that started me on a path that I'm glad I found.

Thanks, Bettie Page. The world, and my image files, were better for having you in them.