Tusa _ Dive in Color

(818) 710-9742
inquire@richardradstone.com

Tusa –

“DIVE IN COLOR”

We’ll start our tale at a casting session in conference rooms at the Georgian hotel in Santa Monica, Ca. It was 5 hours in and we’d screened 50 or 60 models, and with 40 names left on the schedule, we were half way through the day. Bikini wearing models arrived in waves of 2 to 4 about every 10 minutes. Most of the girls had done this a zillion times; and, although discrete and not trying to flaunt their wears, are were a little amused when an ogling conventioneer or two walked into walls as they tried to sneak a peek.

Strange Questions Arose– Things like how does the fin fit her torso? Are her eyes well enough spaced to be proportional with the mask? Or my personal favorite, What do you think she will look like when we turn her purple

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To Photoshop or Not To Photoshop– Some may say, “We’ll fix it in post.” Our motto, “Get as much as you can in camera.” Plus, the layouts were very well detailed, which really aided in planning the execution. We decided to shoot the non-tattooed eye with heavy mascara, knowing that the tattoo and eyelashes would need to be worked in post. Also, we had a few custom Tusa pendants fabricated in various sizes. We needed to be sure that we would have options. It worked out perfectly as we had the perfect size pendant for a simple rack focus to pull the focus we needed. Made the composite work super clean in allowing the pendant to perfectly register on our model Simone’s neck. That saved us a bunch of system time budget to focus on the more difficult element of creating the fish tattoo.

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The “Purple Girl” treatment needed to feel as if our girl (Lee) had just arisen out of the water, shimmering skin and all. We did a few tests of Lee’s skin with and without body paint. We found that a Photoshop manipulation alone gave us very flat skin. So to create a shimmering purple skin, we needed to paint Lee purple to create a skin asset.

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AND THE HERO OF THE DAY GOES TO?– Not only did Lee withstand crazy amount of prepping, she let us paint her purple. Well at least the front half of her. And always with a smile. Lee, you rocked the day!

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Wrap, Take and Off To Post– It took several rounds of revisions in finalizing the campaign. But in the end we all reaped the rewards of a fantastic collaboration with client, talent and crew.

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THANKS TUSA FRIENDS!

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Portrait Studies
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Sidewalk Ghosts
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In•an•i•mate åbjekts
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Dreams
screening of 08

Rubbish
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Seven
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One Suit Fits All

(818) 710-9742
inquire@richardradstone.com

One Suit Fit All –

What do you do with three people and one suit? Basically. This.

Portfolios

Portraits
collection of 59

Heal
2:16 Teaser

Patio Portraits
collection of 15

Portrait Studies
collection of 22

Phantoms
collection of 14

Sidewalk Ghosts
sampling – 72 of 100s

In•an•i•mate åbjekts
collection of 28

Dreams
screening of 08

Rubbish
collection of 39

Seven
collection of 27

Filmworks supported by

©2023 RICHARD RADSTONE 
No images or content may be copied, downloaded, or transferred without written permission.

Filmworks supported by

©2023 RICHARD RADSTONE 
No images or content may be copied, downloaded, or transferred without written permission.

Filmworks supported by

©2023 RICHARD RADSTONE 
No images or content may be copied, downloaded, or transferred without written permission.

Join My Mailing List

Mother and Child

Mother and Child –

Today, I grew up. My rose-colored glasses fogged. Even though I knew they deceived me, the benefit of the doubt drew me closer to the fire. I got burned. My heart tarnished by the acts of others, I’m humbled to the core. The grace of God shines the song of forgiveness for transgressions felt. Not all mine, not all theirs. But sins non-the-less.

Life is a strange educator. With no statesmanship and limitless strength it rolls over our faces, our spiritual eyes and mortal ears rarely pausing to truly hear the small voices falling from above…

The little whispers and quiet screams that bridge the life earned holes inside. Tiny reminders testifying, you are loved; they are lovable; and in her lips, they tremble.

Then there’s the bitter silence of anger and confusion. Quarrels that disconnect what is right! amidst witnessing the slowing of aged movement and bitten nails. Pride bears it’s ugly music. The notes puff up. Sadly. Others follow.

She lays asleep in the corner of my house– years of decay bleeding her body and soul. The mirror before her is a reflection of her legacy, and I wish to understand. To forgive, to be forgiven: The truth warms me as I feel of tender mercies and a rebirth that is blossoming within my very soul.

I’ll never know the hurt and laughter she’s lived– or to be heard for her failings and blessings upon me. Yes me, the imperfect one. Her walls are far too thick, and her mind far too lost.

But what of the scared and lonely little girl inside that she so desperately protects under the memories of pictures faded. Ripped paper cuts outs of peacefully fractured moments. Of her tailored father: Of her mother I never knew: Of life before my very existence. Transparent vignettes of turmoil and joyful journey sit numbly in her eyes. I weep inside, suppressing tears behind my settling rage.

He held her close to him, and even as she morphed into the mind of a child, she did her best to see us. She, a self-absorbed shadow to the person she could be, evolved as the years went on.

She needed him: he needed her. The “Henny Penny” of his heart, they stood together into a dark and light future. A strong survivor; a faulted man; a sinner and a saint; he was a mortal father, a willing provider and servant to her every whim. She, an innocent and unintentional murderess to the worth of the human heart, loved to the best of her ability, knowing not the impact her memory would fulfill.

We cannot comprehend, nor see, her unrevealed memories. Yet she is worthy to be forgiven. No one will really ever know the true intentions of her heart. They will go with her to a brighter place. A glory where she will be with those she loves, they who love her, and a place where we will once again see her at her best. Her lungs will fill and her heart will loosen. There is peace and grace in that knowledge.

Her legs weak, her mind feeble, she tries to filter the shrapnel in her soul. I watch her move, I see her lost. I ache a pain that I never really noticed before I paused to reflect. A tightened chest that constricted from years of similar breath, I now realize her worth.

A sleepless night, I exhale in receiving new air. I am free.