Lord knows I’ve been trying to get better at finishing the edits on photos I’m always so excited to take. This set is from early summer, and I’m glad it’s finally ready to share.
I first saw Cvatik’s claw-machine series in 2024 and loved the idea of a person as the prize. That was the spark for these photographs.
Caroline was a friend before she was a model for me. She and her husband Ian have become some of the closest friends my wife and I have. We’d already slipped away from a wedding for a couples shoot in downtown Lafayette, with streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement. An hour of getting soaked photographing friends suited me better than dancing.
After some time had passed, I mentioned wanting to do a photoshoot with a claw machine, and Caroline jumped on the idea of shooting it with me. “Yes, absolutely, let’s do it.” I hadn’t even realized she wanted to model for me!
I searched for a while before finding a gigantic machine for sale nearby, within my budget, and owned by someone who desperately wanted it gone. I borrowed my father-in-law’s truck and recruited my friend Mike to help load it. I suspect a few spinal discs were sacrificed in the process. Then came the hours of cleaning our newfound neglected Facebook Marketplace find.
With our centerpiece ready, we drove it into the woods at Mike’s place, which we’d aptly named “Dead White Woman’s Forest.” We plugged it in, attracted as many mosquitoes as possible, filled it with Caroline and Ian’s childhood stuffed animals, and finally, added one Caroline dressed in an outfit I could only describe as “dollhouse core.”
Caroline spent more than three hours inside the glass box while we tried different ideas. Sometimes she was the best prize in the machine. Sometimes she felt trapped and wanted out.
Other times, being tucked into a pile of childhood toys looked strangely comforting.
She brought this wonderful “yes, and” energy to everything. I’d suggest a pose, and she’d build on it. Her expressions could change the feeling of a picture completely.
At the end of the night, we left the machine where it was. Moving it would be a problem for Future Dan. I went home and started looking through the photos, and that was when I realized how much more I wanted to try. The pictures had given me new ideas. I checked with Caroline to see if she wanted to go back, and she was eager to climb in again.
A few nights later, we returned with a better understanding of what had worked and what hadn’t. I’d also remembered something I somehow hadn’t taken full advantage of: Caroline is mind-blowingly flexible. The first night’s poses had mostly stayed within the realm of what normal humans can do. On the second, we folded her up like a pretzel. Through the lens, some of those shapes gave her an almost inhuman quality that worked beautifully with the idea of being a toy in a machine.
I was also clearer about the emotions I wanted to direct, and Caroline was incredible at making me believe what the “toy” was feeling. And her eyes, my lord, her eyes. They told whole novels in a moment’s time.
Caroline had ideas of her own about how far we could take that trapped feeling. When she suggested duct-taping her hands together, she caught me completely off guard. I hadn’t considered taking the shoot there, and it pushed us in a strange, wonderful direction. Sometimes making a viewer uncomfortable can spark exactly the emotion you’re looking for. We kept checking in with each other as we worked and kept finding more to try.
By the end of the second evening, we’d spent five or six hours shooting across both nights. Caroline said it felt like an extreme yoga session.
There’s one image I keep coming back to. The claw seems to be pulling Caroline’s head in two directions due to the reflection, yet she looks completely at peace among the stuffed animals. It’s unsettling, but somehow comfortable and sweet at the same time. I’m still not sure how to explain why that combination works so well for me. I just know it’s probably my favorite of the set.
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