Women's bodies are so beautiful. Especially older women's bodies with their folds and creases, their ripples and flowing tides. The difference between a young and an older woman's body is like the difference between a sonata and a symphony. Both are lovely but one has many movements, a sense of time passing, of stories being told, of a beginning, middle and end. The beauty of a young woman's body is fleeting, whereas the older woman's body has settled into itself, it has no place to go, no clock to watch, no plane to catch. It is complete unto itself.

These reflections came after a day spent with two of my best women friends. We've been meeting to make art together for years, and today we dared to remove our clothes and let our naked bodies become our art. I was privileged to photograph my two friends, and one of them then photographed me. We didn't know it was going to unfold like this, but that's the nature of the beast: creativity has its own plans. Once the first of us dropped her modesty, it was easy for my other friend and I to do the same. Trust. Respect. Admiration. Courage. Playfulness. Comfort. Sensuality. All combined to produce feelings of love for our bodies and awe in the face of our friends' bodies. We were touched by magic.

As I looked through the viewfinder, I could not keep from expressing my appreciation of the beauty that I was seeing. Both of my friends said my affirming comments made them feel better about their bodies than they had felt in years. But it was true. They were stunningly beautiful. They ARE stunningly beautiful. After they'd left and I'd started working with some of the photos, I entered a state of awe-filled gratitude for the gifts these wonderful women had shared. The gift of themSelves.

With my friend's permission, I share here one of the photos that emerged from our time together. And I am delighted to say that she has agreed to come and pose for me again. How wonderful it would be if this were the first of a new series of work. May it be so.