Model. photos on Flickr

Ok so it all started when I was born - literally. My parents were young when they had me, just 19 years old. My grandparents got guardianship of my brother and I when I was about three years old. My family has a history of mental illness on both sides, so I was "doomed" naturally. Schizophrenia, bipolar, manic depression, all disorders someone in my family was diagnosed with. My maternal grandmother is manic depressive, and things were very difficult growing up because it wasn't addressed. She didn't believe in therapy and thought that nothing was wrong. Therapy was only for "messed up" people, and she had an extreme stigma about it. There are so many instances of verbal and emotional abuse towards my grandfather, my brother, my mother, and myself. But if you spoke up, it was even worse, you wouldn't dare speak up against it. It was always better to endure it and hope the next day would be better. She was, and still can be, very unpredictable. You'd think everything was dandy, until it wasn't. Things could switch in a moment into a screaming, "you-don't-care-about-me-how-come-no-one-cares-for-me" mess. I never wanted someone to ever go through that, or to feel like they couldn't speak up. I was often the one to speak up, so my grandmother and I would fight often. Hence, the anxiety, people-pleasing, wanting to always keep the peace mindset that I have as an adult. She's always needed help for her mental health, but you can't make someone do something they don't want. If they won't address what's hurting, things can't progress.

My grandfather, my grandmother, my brother, and I tried going to group therapy once. It didn't go well, and was entirely unproductive in creating any change. The time was spent with my grandmother asking why she was always the bad guy and how no one ever talked about how they hurt her, and essentially made for a bad time for awhile at home. I did go to counseling in school for awhile, but it was in a group setting so it wasn't as exclusive as going to one-on-one therapy. As a teenager, I did got to therapy for a little bit, but I stopped going because my therapists kept leaving for other practices. And I felt like I was "fine". Plus, what good does it do when you live somewhere that's always stressful and you feel like you can't really talk about your feelings anyways? I didn't want that for my life, ever. I knew that I wanted to be different. I was always sad as a kid that I didn't live with my parents. I never had an answer when people asked me why I didn't live with them, honestly I still am not sure completely why I didn't and I'll be 29 this year .

My mother ended up having a drug addiction problem when I was in sixth grade. My mother is also bipolar, although I don't know exactly when this was discovered. My grandmother hated my dad, for whatever reason. So I just had no pull in my desire to want to live with a parent. My mother had always been around, and she lived with us and my grandparents at times. I saw my dad on the weekends and holidays. In the beginning of her addiction, my grandparents got emergency custody of my brother Jacob. So now they were raising three kids. When my mother made the decision to get clean from heroin, I was about 11 (I think, not sure of my exact age). I loved her so much, and I'll always remember driving down the road with her one day as she was crying and saying "I love you, you know I do, right?" I was the one sitting with her in the bathroom while she went through withdrawal. It was hard to see my mother so sick. I stayed by her side and slept in the same room as her at night because I was so happy she was back home. I also went to NA and AA meetings with her. I liked the cookies and snacks they'd have. I really had no business being around so much adult information at my age, but as I see it I was the support in my mother's recovery, because everyone else was just mad at her. Naturally, it makes sense that as an adult my mother uses me as support often. She's better now and has been clean for over 10 years.

Eventually, I did get the chance to live with my father and my step-mom the summer before seventh grade. For whatever reason, my grandmother had a moment and agreed to let me live with them. I was ecstatic! I remember hopping onto the computer and instant messaging my step-mom on AIM. I lived with them from the beginning of seventh grade to halfway through my freshman year of high school. Living there was such a change from what I was used to; more routine and structure, more "normalcy". I moved back in with my grandparents halfway through my freshman year of high school. Around that time is when my father was really starting to struggle with his mental health (that I know of). There was one night I remember he got so angry that my step-mom and I went in the basement with our dog. He'd torn off the keyboard holder from the computer desk, ripped the sliding door off the track, and threw the board into the pool. He wasn't going to hurt us and I think we knew that, but he was just SO aggressively upset. I remember he left and that night I woke up to the sound of him crying in the bathroom pleading to God. He got diagnosed bipolar around that time. I didn't leave because he was struggling, but because I felt like me being there was too stressful and I missed being with my grandparents. Things were still the same when I moved back in, it's like I never left. I think part of me is always going to feel guilty for leaving my brothers there, even though getting out made such a change in me.

I met a junior boy, C is what we will call him, when I moved back. He was my second boyfriend. I'd only dated one person when I lived in Leominster, and it wasn't for long. I didn't really know much about dating, or sex, or how any of it worked really. I feel like I just figured out a lot of it on my own, leading to many poor decisions. Part of the issue is that my grandmother believed that any talk of sex, birth control, or even asking to be on birth control would automatically lead to pregnancy. And most of what I saw growing up was not-so-healthy relationships. C broke up with me shortly after I made the decision to have sex with him, through a note, passing me in the hallway to lunch. One of my first poor decisions, and it got worse because my grandmother found out about it and threatened to bring him to court for statutory rape. For whatever reason I thought that having sex with someone meant love. I don't know where I came up with that, but it was what I thought mattered. And I also couldn't stand to be alone, I somehow put all my worth in being with someone else.

A few boyfriends later, I met P at a little music release basement party for a mutual friend. We were a hit instantly, and I completely ignored all of my friends when they told me the next morning to not get involved with him. Another poor decision. We became boyfriend and girlfriend. I was with him for 3 years almost. We smoked a lot of pot, he skipped a lot of college, he would call out of work to stay with me. My grandmother would call me out sick from school so I could spend a week with him at his dorm in Boston. He practically lived at my grandparent's house with me at one point. It was very toxic. We were very clingy to one another and I had no freedom. I couldn't even really hang out with my friends if he wasn't there too. He didn't like when I colored my hair without asking. One time, I dyed it black without asking and he screamed at me for a good hour through the phone. My friend that was with me had to answer the phone at one point and tell him to stop calling. All my worth and who I was was determined by him. I wanted to stretch my ears but didn't because he got upset and told me that I only wanted to do that so I could fuck his friends. He was extremely emotionally and verbally abusive, narcissistic if you will. And he needed help with mental health, yet another non-believer of therapy in my life, and meds would just make you a zombie so forget that.

When I got to college, P had failed out of New England Institute of Art and ended up at The Mount with me. This was problematic. We had a lot of the same classes and friends. I ended up getting very close to another guy, A, who showed interest in me being who I wanted. I remember being told by A that I was being treated like property. I wasn't happy with P anymore, but I didn't know how to leave. I ended up cheating, which is absolutely against my morals. P found out because A was angry I wouldn't leave P and told him everything. It was a nasty breakup and there was a lot of fighting. We had all the same friends and so there was some division and tension. I failed out of college because I skipped classes so I wouldn't have to see him. But even after the breakup, P found a way to always be involved in my business.

While I was dating P, I stopped talking to my father for about a year. My father was trying to look out for me in a particular circumstance and went to P's house on his lunch one day to talk with him. I was a dumb teenager so I chose my boyfriend over my father. During that year my father tried to commit suicide. I only found out because of someone anonymous on the internet. My father did not succeed and is much better these days.

After P, I had a lot of small relationships. I was trying to find myself and who I wanted to be. I stretched my ears. I went to a lot of shows, and I did get to live with my mother by the way, when I turned 18. Things were hard and she didn't exactly like who I was. A lot of criticism for my boyfriends, who I dated, who my friends were. Because I was already an adult, her trying to parent me didn't exactly mesh. I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. I was very stressed all the time. I lost my best friend after P, but I also was so caught up in myself I didn't see how awful of a friend I was. She even ended up dating P for a few years, and that was very hard for me. I never took accountability. I was an anxious mess, that couldn't just be by herself. A lot of my relationships felt like I was a "light" for the other person who was looking to fill a void or get over someone else. And even knowing that so many times, I'd just stay sometimes because I was "needed".

Eventually, I would meet my now husband Joe a year (roughly) after P. Joe and I were best friends first. We knew each other first, and hung out as friends first. He would drive from Dracut to Athol almost every day, that's like 2 hours just to get to me, then 2 hours home. We would sit in my room and watch Friend Zone on MTV (how fitting, right?) One day we found ourselves just casually holding hands. This was new for me. I didn't see it coming. Our relationship crept up and blossomed instead of my usual just jumping into a relationship. Joe was the only one to ever stand up to P and tell him he didn't have a place in my life anymore. The only person where I never doubted if I was just filling a void from someone else. Joe cared about my interests and what I enjoyed, and has continued to throughout our 9 year relationship. He showed me what being valued as myself was like. This is love. And I am grateful, because he gives me space to figure out who I am and change if I feel like it.

The lesson from this is that I finally learned that I was enough as me. I didn't have to try to be anyone's ex, I didn't have to try to be anyone but myself. I learned that I had value as a person, and that I could be who I wanted, because I WANTED to be that person. I could be a light in someone's life, without putting out my own light. I learned that my body was not the only thing someone should want in a relationship, and that sex does not mean love. And most importantly, I learned that I didn't need to fill a void in someone, or try to have someone to fill a void in myself. Things don't work that way. You cannot fix a person, you can only be there for them. As far as mental health goes, my intention was always to break the cycle and take care of myself. I knew it from very early in my life. I mentioned that I stopped going to therapy for awhile. Two years ago I did start going to counseling again. After having our second child, I realized that I was really struggling and things were getting hard, I felt like I was falling apart inside. I couldn't cope strictly by myself. Last year I was diagnosed as bipolar 2. My counselor knew a bit sooner than when he told me, but I respect his reasoning. When he diagnosed me, he said that he did not tell me right away when he knew, because he knew that I would have been devastated, since he knew I did not want to be like my family. But I am not like my family. I love my family, and they are not bad people, they just needed help. I am the change in the cycle. I wanted better and I am creating better. I want my children to know stability and that mental health is as important as physical health. I am still working at being better every day, I will always have to, that's okay. I am open, I am accepting of myself, I know healing isn't linear. In healing, I have learned forgiveness.

D3S_4809-E by DOYLE HARRELL

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model by DeRaN Photography

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Model: Summer D. by Charlie J

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Model - Alan by Shawn Collins

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Photo Shoot w/ a model named Alan today. Great guy to work with.

Amanda - Sad Moon by Justin Bonaparte

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Photographer: Justin Bonaparte

Model: Amanda Nicole

Courier van (2) by Ralph Savelsberg

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The van has got opening rear doors and a working sliding door. It's a high-roof model van, mainly because I needed a certain height in order to make the doors the way I did.

Model Biga by B

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Bronze, AD 1-100

This unique model of a biga (two-horse chariot) shows remarkable detail. The left wheel is different from the right, to allow charioteers faster turns - races were mostly decided at the turning-posts. As children, Nero and his friends reportedly played with wooden chariots. Heavy and expensive, this seems an extravagant toy. Perhaps it was a prized scale model for a wealthy supporter or stable owner.

[British Museum]

Nero: the Man Behind the Myth

(May - Oct 2021)

Nero is known as one of Rome's most infamous rulers, notorious for his cruelty, debauchery and madness.

The last male descendant of the emperor Augustus, Nero succeeded to the throne in AD 54 aged just 16 and died a violent death at 30. His turbulent rule saw momentous events including the Great Fire of Rome, Boudicca's rebellion in Britain, the execution of his own mother and first wife, grand projects and extravagant excesses.

Drawing on the latest research, this major exhibition questions the traditional narrative of the ruthless tyrant and eccentric performer, revealing a different Nero, a populist leader at a time of great change in Roman society.

Through some 200 spectacular objects, from the imperial palace in Rome to the streets of Pompeii, follow the young emperor’s rise and fall and make up your own mind about Nero. Was he a young, inexperienced ruler trying his best in a divided society, or the merciless, matricidal megalomaniac history has painted him to be?

Nero was the 5th emperor of Rome and the last of Rome’s first dynasty, the Julio-Claudians, founded by Augustus (the adopted son of Julius Caesar). Nero is known as one of Rome’s most infamous rulers, notorious for his cruelty and debauchery. He ascended to power in AD 54 aged just 16 and died at 30. He ruled at a time of great social and political change, overseeing momentous events such as the Great Fire of Rome and Boudica’s rebellion in Britain. He allegedly killed his mother and two of his wives, only cared about his art and had very little interest in ruling the empire.

Most of what we know about Nero comes from the surviving works of three historians – Tacitus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio. All written decades after Nero’s death, their accounts have long shaped our understanding of this emperor’s rule. However, far from being impartial narrators presenting objective accounts of past events, these authors and their sources wrote with a very clear agenda in mind. Nero’s demise brought forward a period of chaos and civil war – one that ended only when a new dynasty seized power, the Flavians. Authors writing under the Flavians all had an interest in legitimising the new ruling family by portraying the last of the Julio-Claudians in the worst possible light, turning history into propaganda. These accounts became the ‘historical’ sources used by later historians, therefore perpetuating a fabricated image of Nero, which has survived all the way to the present.

Nero was born Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus on 15 December AD 37.

He was the son of Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus and Agrippina the Younger. Both Gnaeus and Agrippina were the grandchildren of Augustus, making Nero Augustus’ great, great grandson with a strong claim to power.

Nero was only two years old when his mother was exiled and three when his father died. His inheritance was taken from him and he was sent to live with his aunt. However, Nero’s fate changed again when Claudius became emperor, restoring the boy’s property and recalling his mother Agrippina from exile.

In AD 49 the emperor Claudius married Agrippina, and adopted Nero the following year. It is at this point that Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus changed his name to Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus. In Roman times it was normal to change your name when adopted, abandoning your family name in favour of your adoptive father’s. Nero was a common name among members of the Claudian family, especially in Claudius’ branch.

Nero and Agrippina offered Claudius a politically useful link back to Augustus, strengthening his position.

Claudius appeared to favour Nero over his natural son, Britannicus, marking Nero as the designated heir.

When Claudius died in AD 54, Nero became emperor just two months before turning 17.

As he was supported by both the army and the senate, his rise to power was smooth. His mother Agrippina exerted a significant influence, especially at the beginning of his rule.

The Roman historians Tacitus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio all claim that Nero, fed up with Agrippina’s interference, decided to kill her.

Given the lack of eyewitnesses, there is no way of knowing if or how this happened. However, this did not stop historians from fabricating dramatic stories of Agrippina’s murder, asserting that Nero tried (and failed) to kill her with a boat engineered to sink, before sending his men to do the job.

Agrippina allegedly told them to stab her in the womb that bore Nero, her last words clearly borrowed from stage plays.

It is entirely possible, as claimed by Nero himself, that Agrippina chose (or was more likely forced) to take her own life after her plot against her son was discovered.

Early in his rule, Nero had to contend with a rebellion in the newly conquered province of Britain.

In AD 60–61, Queen Boudica of the Iceni tribe led a revolt against the Romans, attacking and laying waste to important Roman settlements. The possible causes of the rebellion were numerous – the greed of the Romans exploiting the newly conquered territories, the recalling of loans made to local leaders, ongoing conflict in Wales and, above all, violence against the family of Prasutagus, Boudica’s husband and king of the Iceni.

Boudica and the rebels destroyed Colchester, London and St Albans before being heavily defeated by Roman troops. After the uprising, the governor of Britain Suetonius Paulinus introduced harsher laws against the Britons, until Nero replaced him with the more conciliatory governor Publius Petronius Turpilianus.

The marriage between Nero and Octavia, aged 15 and 13/14 at the time, was arranged by their parents in order to further legitimise Nero’s claim to the throne. Octavia was the daughter of the emperor Claudius from a previous marriage, so when Claudius married Agrippina and adopted her son Nero, Nero and Octavia became brother and sister. In order to arrange their marriage, Octavia had to be adopted into another family.

Their marriage was not a happy one. According to ancient writers, Nero had various affairs until his lover Poppaea Sabina convinced him to divorce his wife. Octavia was first exiled then executed in AD 62 on adultery charges. According to ancient writers, her banishment and death caused great unrest among the public, who sympathised with the dutiful Octavia.

No further motives were offered for Octavia’s death other than Nero’s passion for Poppaea, and we will probably never know what transpired at court. The fact that Octavia couldn’t produce an heir while Poppaea was pregnant with Nero’s daughter likely played an important role in deciding Octavia’s fate.

On 19 July AD 64, a fire started close to the Circus Maximus. The flames soon encompassed the entire city of Rome and the fire raged for nine days. Only four of the 14 districts of the capital were spared, while three were completely destroyed.

Rome had already been razed by flames – and would be again in its long history – but this event was so severe it came to be known as the Great Fire of Rome.

Later historians blamed Nero for the event, claiming that he set the capital ablaze in order to clear land for the construction of a vast new palace. According to Suetonius and Cassius Dio, Nero took in the view of the burning city from the imperial residence while playing the lyre and singing about the fall of Troy. This story, however, is fictional.

Tacitus, the only historian who was actually alive at the time of the Great Fire of Rome (although only 8 years old), wrote that Nero was not even in Rome when the fire started, but returned to the capital and led the relief efforts.

Tacitus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio all describe Nero as being blinded by passion for his wife Poppaea, yet they accuse him of killing her, allegedly by kicking her in an outburst of rage while she was pregnant.

Interestingly, pregnant women being kicked to death by enraged husbands is a recurring theme in ancient literature, used to explore the (self) destructive tendencies of autocrats. The Greek writer Herodotus tells the story of how the Persian king Cambyses kicked his pregnant wife in the stomach, causing her death. A similar episode is told of Periander, tyrant of Corinth. Nero is just one of many allegedly ‘mad’ tyrants for which this literary convention was used.

Poppaea probably died from complications connected with her pregnancy and not at Nero’s hands. She was given a lavish funeral and was deified.

Centred on greater Iran, the Parthian empire was a major political and cultural power and a long-standing enemy of Rome. The two powers had long been contending for control over the buffer state of Armenia and open conflict sparked again during Nero’s rule. The Parthian War started in AD 58 and, after initial victories and following set-backs, ended in AD 63 when a diplomatic solution was reached between Nero and the Parthian king Vologases I.

According to this settlement Tiridates, brother of the Parthian king, would rule over Armenia, but only after having travelled all the way to Rome to be crowned by Nero.

The journey lasted 9 months, Tiridates’ retinue included 3,000 Parthian horsemen and many Roman soldiers. The coronation ceremony took place in the summer of AD 66 and the day was celebrated with much pomp: all the people of Rome saw the new king of Armenia kneeling in front of Nero. This was the Golden Day of Nero’s rule

In AD 68, Vindex, the governor of Gaul (France), rebelled against Nero and declared his support for Galba, the governor of Spain. Vindex was defeated in battle by troops loyal to Nero, yet Galba started gaining more military support.

It was at this point that Nero lost the support of Rome’s people due to a grain shortage, caused by a rebellious commander who cut the crucial food supply from Egypt to the capital. Abandoned by the people and declared an enemy of the state by the senate, Nero tried to flee Rome and eventually committed suicide.

Following his death, Nero’s memory was condemned (a practice called damnatio memoriae) and the images of the emperor were destroyed, removed or reworked. However, Nero was still given an expensive funeral and for a long time people decorated his tomb with flowers, some even believing he was still alive.

After Nero’s death, civil war ensued. At the end of the so-called ‘Year of the Four Emperors’ (AD 69), Vespasian became emperor and started a new dynasty: the Flavians.

[Francesca Bologna, curator, for British Museum]

Taken in the British Museum

Model: Karina Plyachenko by Sonia

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AUDREY 1796 by Cortez77_fr same nickname on Ipernity

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Model Page : www.flickr.com/photos/had3sia/

Model with hat. by Brian Rosen

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Jess..shot at Hedo 2

model a fords by Doug Stoker

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1930 model a ford i bought this from a 90 year old man in Barstow Calif,with the title i got a bill of sale from dealer in Boron Calif that said sold for $75.00 $50.00 down with $25.00 owed he bought from that dealer in 1955

Model by Claire Netting

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Nikon 80-200mm lens using aperture priority, f6.3

models by Ranier Ramos

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Models

Model by Alejandro Henriquez

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Instagram: @AHProdvction

Models photo shoot by David Yu

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Models photo shoot