140 days ago I made a promise, nay a covenant to boycott the razor until the day where my photography graced the pages of a magazine! I didn't really know what I had gotten myself into that fateful day, but I know now, after nearly 6 months of dealing with what I came to call bob, that next time I will give something up rather than growing something on my body. Perhaps I shall try giving up my morning jogs through the forest of haunted souls or maybe even give up caffeine. It's funny how you can so easily become known for something in such a short period of time. It's so easy to describe someone based on a major physical feature. Like, did you see that woman with three breasts? Or how about that 6 month pregnant man. For me, people would say, "Just look for the guy with the ridiculous beard". I suppose now people will just have to go back to saying "the good looking, obnoxious guy with the camera". I suppose I can live with that. When it came to the beard you were either for or against it. I know after 140 days that most people were on the against side and would not have hesitated for a second to slip with scissors or any other sharp object. My Mother half joked about cutting it in my sleep. Every time I went to the barber I made crystal clear that the beard could not be touched. "I felt that everyone was after me beard!" Recently, upon a "hunch" I searched through a few magazines to see if I had been published without my knowledge. Luck have it that the first magazine I pick up was 944 magazine, the Miami May issue. I started from the back of the magazine and after flipping through about 2 dozen pages I find a beautiful shot of Ceviche that I had taken months back. It was attached to an article on a restaurant I had done several shoots for. They had permission to use the shot. However, they were given explicit instructions on how I required crediting in publications. This information somehow slipped through the cracks and Michael Herb was not credited for his work and suffice to say, I was pissed. After several days of tag with the Magazine I finally got an apology and a correction on the online article. No more can be done without sacrificing my reputation and making me out to be a pain in the ass photographer. Since I had in fact been published. I had fulfilled the covenant made on the first day of January 2011 and was freed from the binds. I was now free to say goodbye to the beard and once again find my face. I set out this evening with one goal. I setup 3 lights, my computer and tripod. I set out the clippers and an assortment of attachments. I was now ready to say good bye. I took several before shots and once satisfied I setup for the first cut. Straight down the middle. A clump of hair closely resembling what some call their ball fro, floated gently from my face to the ground. The few seconds it took to fall felt like minutes. There was no going back now, the damage had been done. I decided to give Shawn the honors and cut the remaining beard away. He had his fun and gave me several strange yet stylish looks, including, the wolverine, the hillbilly and finally the patchy look. With every fallen hair, my face was coming back. Its like seeing an old friend for the first time in years. So that's what I looked like before I decided to repulse 70% of women in the world. At one point I had looked at Shawn and saw that he had a beard hair stuck on his teeth much the same way broccoli gets stuck. I pointed it out and you'd think he swallowed a bug or ate shit. He freaked out and began spitting and wiping his mouth. It was hilarious!! It's amazing what 5 inches of face fuzz will do for your appearance. I not only look younger, I feel lighter. I'm happy I'm back to my old self but a part of me will miss Bob. He was like a fuzzy, hairy, warm little friend that was always there for me. I know I have a few fans out there that are overly joyed that I've shaved down the beast. My #1 fan, Dear 'ole Ma was more than ecstatic when she saw my "face" for the first time in 6 months. The rest of the world will just have to except that Bob was only going to be with us for a short period of time. He was a good friend, a wise mentor and above all… a beard. So, heres to you Bob. For all the minutes spent drying you. For all the snags while combing you. For each inch you grew. For each piece of food you attempted to hide. For every tug you endured from both myself and an assortment of strangely fascinated woman. You will forever be a major part of my 2011. Lighting: AB800 Med Softbox 6:00 Boomed overhead 1/2 power. triggered optically AB800 Med Softbox 6:00 Boomed underhead 1/4 power. triggered via cyber sync AB800 7 inch reflector 12:00 aimed down at head. 3/4 power. triggered optically Want More? attn.: I changed my Facebook page from 204studios to Michael Herb Photography. If you liked the other page and still like my work, cl

i've never been in the school of thinking the human body is automatically a piece of art. sure i can appreciate it, but usually in the way i appreciate everything else in existence. it's a fascinating vessel composed of vastly delicate structures. how we don't simply fall apart always amazes me, as well as our cells' ability to regenerate and adapt. i'm more on level with those who find our bodies as blank canvases. when we're born, if we're lucky we're perfect little smooth cuties, without a scar or blemish to be seen. sixty years later we're riddled with imperfections, and each of them has a story. "the body is a road map," to quote the once-great marilyn manson. ;) ? the knot on my forehead was from running into a corner when i was two. ? the small, raised scars on my forehead and chest are from my obsession to pickpickpick at my skin until i ruin it. ? i have a birthmark on the back of my left thigh. ? a mole next to my belly button and above my top lip. ? the guy who gave me tattoos was a long-haired hispanic named anthony. ? the guy who pierced my nose and eyebrow was bald and had surface piercings from brow to brow. ? the guy who pierced my tongue was gorgeous and said, "you could fit two on here!" ? when i was seven i busted my face and chipped my front tooth. ? the big toenail on my left foot is slightly narrower than the right because i had an ingrown toenail in high school that was cut out. the podiatrist refused to let me watch. hmph! ? i have a scar on my lip that i don't even know the origin of. ? hair never grows on the back of my legs from ~four inches above my knee to ~five inches below. ? i'm growing silver hairs! i just love it. i love crooked teeth and scars and old tattoos that have become faded and saggy. wrinkles on grandpas and stretch marks on mothers. i know a girl who has a scar on her knee shaped like a 7, from an accident that happened when she was seven years old. that's pure poetry. the only real thing i can't stand on me is having bad skin just about everywhere, save for my torso and back. my forearms were fine until a couple years ago, when these awful bumps started spreading. the undersides are hanging in there, though. this picture is of my thigh. it's frustrating because there's nothing i can do, and i feel disfigured. really i'm just frustrated with those who don't understand we all can't be renoirs. some of us are picassos. 3/23/09 23:20