To say that John Emrys loves women is an understatement.

The term love has been so overused that its poignancy has weakened over time. But if love were to be said in its most reverent, most godlike fashion, then John Emrys loves women. It is a love that is not born of the desire to possess or defeat. It is a love that borders on devotion, embracing both the beauty of the flesh and the secrets contained beneath it.

A session with John is an act of lovemaking. When we love, as intended by the gods, with deep veneration, then we reflect in the beloved the face of the divine and see in return our greatest possibilities. We have as much a need to be penetrated as we have to probe and understand the one we love. We want to know and be known, deeply, fully and profoundly. To be known is to give our lives meaning. To be loved is to give our lives purpose. To be witnessed gives our lives significance. To sit before the penetrating eye of John Emrys, leaves you with the feeling of being ravished.

I first met John sixteen years ago; he diligently worked at finding me from seeing a commercial I was in. It was a typical example of his desire to photograph someone he perceived as connective. I found myself sitting for him that first day. He made me feel like I was in control. I wasn’t. He turns his models into actresses, demanding the emotional truth of every pose and simple gesture.

There is no lying, or faking it, with John. No face pulling, no comfortable zone. Truth is never comfortable. It is seldom soft or pretty. It has many facets and John makes you explore them all. Through his lens the model starts down the seldom-journeyed path and because John insists that you go deeper into your personal truth, the journey is clearly mutual and the results are personally astonishing.

I remember when John began to turn his insight inward. A constant restlessness seemed to grow within his soul and his work no longer seemed to feed his psyche. Here he was, an accomplished, award-winning photographer, discontent with his work and the direction of his art. His Grail, his desire to learn and understand lay on a deeper, more archetypal level, made him demand more of his self-expression and what he was willing to put out into the world.

And so, as anyone on a spiritual quest must, John tore away the constructs of his own building. He stripped away his safety zone so that he could put himself, and his work, on the line. In doing so, he became as vulnerable as all the women he photographs; not just the nudes.

It would be easy to say that I have watched John grow and develop as an artist. But that would be a lie. He was as intense and as truthful sixteen years ago as he is today. But his vision has focussed like a laser. His purpose more directed. He stands on a fulcrum, embracing both the sacred and the profane. A visual voice defending the beauty and spirituality of flesh. He has, in a word, passion.

If the nude is to the artist what love is to the poet, then John makes poetry of the visual because of his intense love of light and curve.