Originally, I didn’t want to include anything about myself in the project.

I just wanted to get out of the way, so that we could see ourselves for ourselves. Images make that possible. Images without captions especially.

That’s why it needed to be a book of vagina portraits. Close-up, documentary photographs of the everyday vagina in plain view.

This way, you would write the story. In your head, while you’re viewing the vagina portraits, and if you wanted to talk with others about it, you could do that. I’d love for you to do that actually. I just don’t want to tell you what to think. Or how to feel about it. There’s enough of that all around us. Pushing us to conform, by agreeing, or staying quiet.

I just want you to be able to see for yourself. How we are all different.

That normal is diverse.

Images make that possible.

So, when my friend asked me the question, this was answer that she deserved. At least, that’s how I see it. I still don’t want to include much about myself in the project, but I think I took that too far the first time around.

My card. It’s been in my bag for too long.

Back of the card.

I haven’t shot a vagina portrait in years.

vaginaverite.com hasn’t been been updated with a vagina story, or notice of an upcoming exhibition since 2013.

And, until a few months, ago, I had barely glanced compilation of eight vagina portraits arranged in a column, one above the other, in 6’3″-tall by 12″-wide, custom-made black metal frame, leaning against a wall in my apartment.

There was a time, years in fact, when sixty vagina portraits, hung in five rows of twelve, lined the wall above the couch in my living room. Eventually, for the last open-house exhibition, I found a way to fit 93 individually-framed vagina portraits on walls in my living room. But that was a while ago.

And, then one day, I leaned back in my chair and stretched back from my laptop, and I saw them. That column.

I made it back in 2004, specifically, for the “Love Your Tree” photography exhibition at ABC Carpet, that celebrated the debut of Eve Ensler’s play The Good Body. At the time, I named it “Spire”. I’m stripping that off to let it just be “Column” which is what I always called it in my head.

The “Column” is one of the most interesting and beautiful things you will ever see. 

In that instant, it became clear to me that I did not do the project justice.

The printed book is great. It’s the only way to see vagina vérité at the moment. I brought it with me to World Domination Summit 2018 this weekend and shared it with a few women. They all thought it was meaningful, needed —amazing to see how we really are so different.

But it is not anywhere near as good as the Column. For one thing, as a print-on-demand book, it’s too expensive for most of us, and that’s a deal-breaker right there.

So it’s time, to get back to work, and the get this done, as originally intended, and publish the book and share this project widely, so that women can see ourselves for ourselves.

I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I need to do to make that happen. How to get going anyway. For sure there will be more than one fork in the road.

Making the announcement here on vaginaverite.com and re-introducing yOur stories. Getting onstage at WDS2018, and telling the story of the project to 1000 people. Restarting the salon series and generally re-engaging with the community to co-create what this work is about…these are my first steps, and this time I won’t stop until we get there. See what you think. I’d love to hear about it.

Feel free to ask questions and share ideas any time.

—Alex

One day, out of the blue, a friend of mine asked me if I liked the way my vagina looked. We were meeting for drinks after work, and on hello, before my butt hit the bar stool, she asked me: Do you like the way your vagina looks? I think this was sometime in August of 2000.

Even before I answered, I already knew that she thought there was something wrong with hers. That it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. And, that there was nothing I could say, as her friend, who would, of course, always be reassuring –that would convince here that she was normal.

Maddening. This just made me so mad.

So, I decided, or the moment, her question, decided for me: that if there wasn’t already one out there, that I would shoot a book. The reference we women, my friend, deserved. I drew the shot I wanted to see on a post-it, and told her that the title of the book would be vagina vérité, like cinéma vérité: French for documentary film. I knew exactly how the book should be, what the answer to her question was.

And, while I didn’t have a clue how I would do it, I was all in: the unabashed exploration of the plain, ordinary, mysterious matter of vaginas.

10 years, 110 v-portraits.