Should We Kiss? Tips for a Great First Kiss

Somehow I can’t forget the flying pineapples. To reach Cartagena de Indias on Colombia’s Caribbean coast, you typically go through Bogotá, sometimes via Miami, and in my case through San José, Costa Rica. My seatmate insisted that this Zürich flight exists solely to supply Switzerland with fresh fruit. Pineapples, mini-bananas, and other tropical fruits can ripen longer on the bush. Not to mention that my onward connection to Cartagena was twelve hours late, and I had to make a night-time stopover in Panama City, because the tropical rain had once again flooded the runway in Cartagena. That’s part of the adventure, and I want to tell you about one such adventure here.

The legendary BelAmi porn studio from Prague wanted to celebrate its thirtieth birthday and invited Corbin Fisher’s colleagues from Reno, Nevada. Seven guys from Europe were to meet four American guys in Colombia; a tale of a double-booked vacation home and a mutually agreeable solution in which everyone ends up having fun together. Under the title “Double Booked,” the result can be viewed on the studios’ websites.

The project required eleven models, three camera teams, production direction, and photographers—a logistical and financial undertaking that, by today’s standards, isn’t often pursued this way. The market has shifted dramatically, and instead of a 90-minute film with some storyline, it’s now short, standalone scenes that drive the business. It was a remarkably generous gesture from Bel-Ami’s founder and chief, George Duroy, who, truth be told, doesn’t actually go by that name, to welcome me to Cartagena and simply let things unfold. I’d hinted that I was very interested in documenting such a shoot and, above all, in photographing what happens in the margins of the workday.

My compact Leica hardly stood out next to the big cinema cameras, and after just a few hours I had somehow become part of the crew. Unlike the film “Double Booked,” in which the protagonists venture by boat or wander the beautiful old town of Cartagena, I stayed at the location for the duration. The palace with its expansive inner courtyard, pool, and multiple loggias, the characteristic staircase with the round opening in the wall, the bedrooms on the mezzanine and the first floor, the balcony, and the tower spanning several stories became my home for two weeks, because one of the many shooting or photographing sites was always in use. Sometimes three sites at once, which let me wander the floors or tilt the camera up or down. I didn’t re-sort the photos I captured for “Cartagena Diaries”; I let them flow in the chronology of the days. The very first photo—Billy sticking out his tongue at me—was a strong start, because the guys were clearly much cooler than I.

To be honest: a few times I stepped away from the documentary thread and pulled Sasha or Michael to a place where there wasn’t any filming happening. The temptation to ask them to pose “there” or to look into my camera was simply too strong. With Hugo I even went back to my apartment and spent a few hours working there. But did I succeed in capturing the essential aspects of those days?

Do you feel the relaxed familiarity, the carefree ease with nudity and erections, and at the same time the focused work atmosphere, where an essentially uninvolved model casually holds the reflector? There, Rocky—one of the lead Corbin Fisher stars—naps soundly, while filming continues in the background. In an instant he’s ready to be photographed in the stairwell with a broad smile. BelAmi star Hugo Carter passes by naked, I take a portrait of the two, and the reaction to my question “Want to kiss each other?” was easy to predict.

In the set, I didn’t hear the expected “Action!” once. They simply kept filming, and the camera crew remained relatively quiet. My favorite Jirka, who used to work as Jerome for BelAmi, wore a perpetual grin. The atmosphere was generous and genuine, and the interactions among the crew were marked by careful courtesy. I quickly learned that today people don’t greet with a handshake but with a fist bump. I also learned who among them is on OnlyFans (and how that actually works), that you can still score points with niche knowledge about Winterfell and Westeros, and that young men eat astonishing amounts of food. Were those really eight breakfast eggs that Rocky managed to pack away each morning? It seems that pornography today often travels via smartphone, and during occasional internet outages in the house I gladly lent a hand with my eSIM.

With BelAmi’s boss George Duroy, I discovered Cartagena culinarily, and in my memory the restaurants bore names like grand operas—Carmen or Norma—which I would happily recommend here. Our discussions leaned toward weightier topics, including the political situation in the United States and the grim forecast of a potential nationwide ban on pornography. Under the banner of the so-called “Project 2025,” the Heritage Foundation has launched a broad assault on abortion and contraception, transgender rights, drag queens, and essentially anything that depicts bare bodies. Officially, this is framed as protecting the physical, emotional, and mental health of children, who, according to the Heritage Foundation, are endangered by departures from a heterosexual married ideal and a traditional family model. Their apparent strategy seems to be the eradication of anyone perceived to be an enemy of the family.

I didn’t sense stress from the charming teams—hailing from Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and the United States—and even the loud construction next door, missing adapters, or water outages in the old town were somehow handled by Denis. In all honesty, I would have liked to photograph Denis with his radiant eyes more often, but that would have been a different story altogether.

Whether this project I was privileged to document was exceptional or whether such shoots are always this relaxed, I can’t judge. But the days of camaraderie in Cartagena carried a strong addictive lure, perhaps because everything was wrapped in a specific tropical, humid, sleepy heat. Like after every group experience—and this is how I will remember my time in Cartagena—the melancholy of days gone by lingers. Perhaps because I know such shoots will likely not happen again in the future, at least for economic reasons. Perhaps because I would love to continue following and documenting the development of Jay, Sasha, Hugo, Chris, or Rocky. I am on a very private quest for beauty in this world, and I’m happy to share the outcomes in this book.

The publication of this text is by the courtesy of the artist and Salzgeber Buchverlage. “Cartagena Diaries” and many other intriguing non-heteronormative photo volumes, novels, and DVDs are available, among other places, at Salzgeber.Shop.