9/16/2023 0 Comments Michael webber nudeI left feeling very confused and continued to replay the experience over and over in my head for years, up until the next time I met him, three years later. I could feel him using his strength and used my own to resist him. He looked at me very intensely, and when it became clear that I wasn’t going to let him move his hand any further down my body, he said something about my “potential,” thanked me for my time, stood up, and guided me to the elevator. I forcibly held his hand in place as he tried to slide it down my belly. Instinctively, my hand forced his hand up so it landed somewhere on my lower abdomen, an inch or so above the waistband of my jeans, the fingers of his hand seeking the skin underneath my shirt. Spiral spiral spiral goes the hand… then, very suddenly, he began to bring it toward me, directly down to my crotch. At the “climax,” I would then bring his hand to my body where I felt the energy most. He began to move his hand in a circle, as I tried to follow. He placed his hand under mine and told me that I was going to move his hand around until the energy came to a climax. He then took my hand from my lap and held it out in front of me, and did the same with his own. I nervously laughed, unsure of what to do or say. I remember him asking me if I felt it, the energy. He explained that energy was going to build between us, a gauge that would be used to determine if we could work together or not. Our knees were almost touching as he began to describe what was about to happen. Weber then leaned forward and told me he wanted to do a breathing exercise with me. that probably lasted only a few minutes. There were some pleasantries - where are you from, how long have been modeling, etc. He offered me a seat and then sat down across from me. He thanked me and put it aside as he walked back over to living room-like set up of chairs and couches facing one another. I offered him the print I had brought for him. He’s what I imagine Santa Claus would look like dressed for a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert. He was seated on a couch, slowly got up, and walked over to greet me. Up went the elevator, opening into a beautiful space with vintage furniture and more of Weber’s work, featuring much more nudity that what I had seen on the floor below. Photo: Provided by the author/Wilhelmina Models This whole “god” description, partnered with a literal physical ascension to meet the man, caused warning bells to ring in my head. She walked me over to a large vintage freight elevator and told me he would be waiting for me at the top. I’m an artist myself and thought it would be nice to bring Weber a piece of my own work - a print I had done during my BFA at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia.Īnother 15 or so minutes went by before the woman who’d greeted me came back and told me Bruce was ready to see me. The entire space felt like a shrine to the man and his work, laid out like an old, rustic factory, assistants - mostly all young, attractive men - quietly moving about, carrying giant prints of Weber’s work. The casting took place at Weber’s studio, Little Bear, located in Tribeca. And I believe myself, and my fellow male models, would not have had the courage to come forward had it not been for the female heroes who started this movement. To have another man abuse his power and take advantage of you can feel like one of the most emasculating and stigmatizing experiences that a young man can have.īut when I saw Weber’s Instagram post denying the accusations brought against him by other male models, I knew it was time to speak out, leaning into the fear instead of running away from it. And honestly, I was a victim of the pressure around what it means to be a man in today’s society. I was scared - I’m still a working model, and until I could support myself as a writer and artist, I wasn’t willing to risk losing my main source of income. When I first spoke up about my experience with Bruce Weber and sexual harassment in the modeling industry, I chose to remain anonymous. I’d met and worked with other famous photographers before, but no one described as a “god.” The pressure was on from the start. I was a 23-year-old model, with a rough idea of who I was and what I was willing and unwilling to tolerate. I’d heard Weber called a “god” in the industry, a man who could make or break my career. I checked my email and there it was: the original casting from my agent at the time, labeled “by photographer’s special request.” I still remember the initial exchange so vividly. The first time I met Bruce Weber was eight years ago. You can also see what we’re up to by signing up here. The archives will remain available here for new stories, head over to Vox.com, where our staff is covering consumer culture for The Goods by Vox. Thank you to everyone who read our work over the years.
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