Within: in one’s inner thought, disposition, or character; an inner place or area; being inside

Beauty: the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts mind or spirit.

       “Within” and “Beauty” have often been used in the same sentence, and it is usually implied that beauty comes from within.  It is physical beauty that may catch our eye, but it is the beauty we find inside one another that captures our hearts.  Perhaps one can refer to an “eternal beauty”, one that doesn’t fade with time, but expands with experience, knowledge, and humility.
        Have you ever met a person for the first time and came to realize how attractive and magnetic this person was only after they had left your presence?  One may call it charisma, personality, or character, but one immutable truth is that all of these qualities come from within.   

        When I first asked Nathalie to pose for a painting, it was a surprise to hear her response.  Her?  Of all the beautiful women running around the south of France?  Why would I ask her?  This is what made Nathalie such a perfect subject; she had a preserved innocence.  It was her physical beauty that initially drew me to her, but it wasn’t until we shared a glass of wine in a café that I knew she would deliver such a memorable image.  I think it can be safely said that people who posses physical beauty, but are not entirely aware of their image, or at least not driven by its self-centeredness, are some of the most endearing people we meet.  Nathalie was no exception.
         I could describe to you the flicker of candlelight that played across her beautiful face, and how the light hung like a lantern in the canopy of her long, blond hair.  I could describe to you her petite frame that held her as delicate as the heavens hold the stars; but it was her words, the meaning behind those words, and the way here eyes delivered them.  She sold her words at their highest price, and in turn they paid her tribute.  It was of no great surprise when she spoke of her hopes of adding a fifth, fluent language to her répertoire.  She was driven by accomplishment, acted on intelligence, and was lead by her strong beliefs.  There was a commitment to a life-long education, and the world would repay her gladly.
        As we sat there, and I listened, she would occasionally catch herself in a flash of self-awareness, and for a brief moment her eyes would betray her.  I could see her retreat ever so slightly and she would take a small sip of wine, remembering she was sitting in a café with a man she had only just met.
       “J’aimerais t’inviter à diner ce soir.”  I remember telling her.  It was then we had our first meal together and the many dinners that were to follow.
         I had taken a few preliminary pictures of Nathalie in a park before using the vineyard as a backdrop.  Her first response to the pictures was they didn’t look anything like her.  It made me think of how one hears their own-recorded voice and they have to question if that is really how they sound.  Nathalie was a natural in front of the camera, and I found it curious she had never considered ever becoming a model.  It was just another beautiful trait she had managed not to lose along the way.  I truly admired her sense of modesty, as well as her ability to give me a good cursing in a language I could never understand.
        Today was going to be the day I would click the image for “Within”.  It was not yet officially the summer of 1994, but the natural world doesn’t always wait for the call from our calendars.  The morning sun had a slow, warm climb over the hills and gave its own forecast for the day:  85 degrees, light winds, and not a cloud to throw a shadow on the wealth of color and beauty in the south of France.  Of course, I had my own interpretation of what the sun was telling me: if you have a young, beautiful girl and you’re an artist, it’s a damn good day to take her out in the vineyards, get her undressed, and steal a little of her soul for a later date.
        A friend of mine had rented a car for the week, and seeing he normally slept in nursing a Saturday night in Aix-en-Provence, I had the wheels to drive Nathalie and I out to a distant vineyard.  To pose nude in France is not unexpected or even frowned upon, but for Nathalie, I wanted a sanctuary for her.  We had to be alone. No one is as beautiful and natural as when they believe no one is looking, and I would like to believe the only exception to that rule is the sole presence of a boyfriend. 
        There is a beautiful winding road that leads outside of Aix to the picturesque Mont Sainte-Victoire.  It is a road that bends through great pines and valleys offering fantastic glimpses of vast, green fields, rows of vineyards, and a house or two.  It was nearly high noon and the sun was confident in convincing our skin of its time to change.  Nathalie rode quietly next to me, holding an assortment of clothes in her lap.  There was a collection of bright, colorful blouses, a Spanish skirt with a rich, dancing motif, and a single hair tie that balanced on top.  It was an ambitious selection, although we both knew only the hair tie would be used, and its sole purpose would be something I would wear as a lucky bracelet.
        We followed a long turn in the road until it revealed a large, mature vineyard that threw a great pattern of green belts across an entire hillside.  This would be the place.  A vineyard for two.  The trunks of the vines were heavy and thick with dark twisting limbs and they yielded perfect leaves that hung large and still.  We could have been on another planet while we stood and prepared among the countless rows of the vineyard.
         I knew the pose that I wanted.  It was an image that had illuminated the cellars of my mind and had repeatedly visited me since our first encounter.  I took a few warm-up shots to get her ready.  I then asked if she would hold herself while I took a straight shot directly in front of her.  Nathalie quietly brought herself together, looked into my lens, and waited.  I also waited.  I knew that with every slow blink of her eyes there would be a gradual dropping of her guard.  I only had to wait.
        Then it came, quietly from the south.  A breath of warm wind lifted and whispered her last secret through the leaves and everything came from within. 

Simon P. Côté - 2003