Bob Carey's New Book BALLERINA, to Fight Breast Cancer, Released Today, Sept 15

Photographer Bob Carey's much anticipated compilation of self-portraits in a tutu is now available. Ballerina, a hard cover 9 x 12 book with a foreword by Amy Arbus, showcases color photographs and back-stories about the journey behind the images. The captured images present both impertinent playfulness and vulnerability, themes that run thoughout much of Carey's work. The project has taken Carey from Italy to Times Square, and he hopes to turn the photos of himself into an inspirational force behind breast cancer awareness. Net proceeds from the sale of Ballerina will go directly to The Carey Foundation, a non-profit organization established by Carey and his wife Lindato provide support to women diagnosed with breast cancer and their family members.

Carey has always had a unique approach to self-portraits. In 2002, when he was asked by Arizona Ballet to interpret what ballet meant to him, Carey donned a tutu and took a bow. He continued using this pink piece of tulle to express himself and in 2003 this quickly turned into a way to cope with his wife Linda's breast cancer diagnosis. When he realized that these images helped her, and others dealing with this disease by bringing laughter into their lives, The Tutu Project was born. The project has received worldwide acclaim and helped fund the self-publishing of Ballerina.

The Carey Foundation's mission is to provide financial and therapeutic support to women diagnosed with breast cancer and their family members. We raise awareness with the help of The Tutu Project, a photographic journey of a man and his tutu, created by photographer Bob Carey and his wife Linda. The Foundation will seek to alleviate the stress and burden of breast cancer so that individuals can focus on life.

Ballerina, released today, September 15, 2012, can be purchased at www.thetutuproject.com. It consists of 144 pages/color photographs.

Facebook: facebook.com/thetutuproject
Twitter: @thetutuproject

FORWARD BY AMY ARBUS:
Bob Carey is completely disarming, both with his kindness, and his candor. He is a big, warmhearted teddy bear of a guy, full of eagerness and humility, and deeply smitten with photography. In 1993, well into a successful advertising career, he began a series of self-portraits that exposed a man in both physical and emotional distress. These images consisted of strangely shaped heads created by wrapping himself in monofilament fishing line or by hanging himself upside down with "an engine hoist apparatus." He often frequented a nearby salvage yard in his native Phoenix, Arizona, subsequently painting himself silver with a talcum powder-like make-up, wearing either a smooth aluminum cover over his face or two lighting fixtures as ears. The effect of the images is startling – a person who is part man, part machine. Although his black & white film was spectacularly exposed and the photographs themselves expertly printed, they are challenging, in particular because of said, "When I was wrapping myself, although it hurt, it was almost comforting, like being held." For the viewer, each photograph looks like a test of his pain threshold. I think of him as "the escape artist of photography."

In Ballerina, Bob appears reborn. The series, which began in 2003 as he and his wife Linda Lancaster-Carey were driving across the country, moving from Phoenix to Brooklyn, New York, is comprised of super-saturated color self-portraits that achieve an almost surreal effect. They feel child-like in their innocence, and illustrate Bob as a man with an endless fascination for life. In the photographs, Bob is always alone, outfitted in a pink tutu: praying at the ocean in Coney Island, lying in a hotel room in Wildwood, New Jersey in a single of twin beds, otherwise naked on a snow covered street in Brooklyn, or with his head in his hands at the school bus parking lot in New York. He is often running away from the camera, remote in hand to trip the shutter, jumping for joy and caught in the stop action of daylight strobe. Sometimes his gestures are repetitive, but the images he captures are anything but. He is a master of intriguing point-of-view, lighting and poetic metaphor. When his father Gene helped him setup the photograph, Shuffleboard, Arizona, he announced proudly, to anyone and everyone, "That's my son."

When this project began, Bob's personality was apparent in the images, not necessarily his face or likeness. As time passed, the locations became more elaborate and, in turn, he became smaller in the frame. Bob has said of using himself as a model," I'm always available," but as the series progressed, , he acknowledged, "It's not about me anymore. Bob travels extensively across America looking for the perfect tree, putting green, cow pasture, airplane storage lot, construction site, forest or boardwalk. He climbs a fiberglass palm tree with blue palm fronds at a hotel in Wildwood. He waits for a subway in Brooklyn that will never stop. In Monument Valley, he walks with trepidation on a road to nowhere.

The risks of photographing a series lIke Ballerina are numerous, but danger is an integral part of making the pictures. Bob has escaped getting busted by cops for indecent exposure by wearing matching pink shorts underneath his tutu and avoided being caught by security while trespassing on government property. When he's working, he hurries, so as not to be blown off the Chesapeake Bay Bridge or run over by a car in Times Square. He often finds himself in Monument Valley when the temperature is at extremes, either 15 degrees, or 115 degrees. As he recalls, "I am alone, without cell service and no one knows I am there." In retrospect, he realizes this isn't so safe. I sense a newfound feeling in him of vulnerability that comes with age, experience and the loss of those near and dear.

Equally, Bob's wife Linda is no stranger to danger. She has cheated death twice, once when she was diagnosed with cancer in 2003, and again in 2006. Ironically, it is her battle with the disease that kept this project alive, with Bob taking some time to work and travel and process her illness through his art. Now, Bob knows a whole community of cancer survivors and people still struggling with the disease. When he brings his tutu pictures to cancer clinics, where patients are wired for chemotherapy, he says, proudly, "As they are being injected with poison, I can see how much my photographs fill them with joy."

Bob Carey:
Bob Carey was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona and has been making photographs since the age of 17. His passion for creating imagery and his efforts towards self-expression have been two of the driving forces in his life. Carey graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts from Arizona State University and went on to photograph commercially with an emphasis in advertising. In 1993 he began to explore self-portraiture, manipulating and transforming his face and body into an unrecognizable self. This led to numerous solo Gallery and Museum exhibitions in the United States and Europe. In 2003, after 42 years of living in Phoenix, he and his wife and business partner Linda relocated to Brooklyn, New York to experience life in a different and culturally diverse environment. Carey's photography continued on the same path of self-examination and transformation and he began to photograph himself dressed as a Ballerina in a pink tutu. The first image was created one day in a vast, desolate landscape during their journey to New York City. After nine years his Ballerina series has grown into a large body of work, including numerous locations from across the United States. Carey describes this project as humorous, playful and introspective, and he hopes to provide viewers an experience similar to that creating the pictures did for him: entertainment and inspiration. 

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