A new friend from my morning boxing class. As I told her when I sent her these photos: I find the visceral contrast between the intensity and power that she projects as a fighter and the radiant feminine beauty that encapsulates her natural form to be a rather striking and attractive juxtaposition. (Which is my overly verbose and longwinded way of saying that I greatly respect, appreciate, and admire a woman that knows how to throw a punch.)
Jerry, as in the Mouse
Jerry as in the mouse. Certainly not a mouse I would want to have to try and deal with. (Thankfully back to taking photos of people other than myself. Unfortunately, was kind of rushed so not perfect with my focus.)
Fortress of Solitude
There are a few things that immediately impress you if you spend anytime around real boxers. The first is how hard they work and how little they get in return for their effort. The second is how much of a solitary life it is. Hours upon hours spent alone sweating in an empty gym just practicing and building stamina. Finally, it is the close almost paternal relationship that exists between the boxer and their coach. I tried to capture all of that in these shots.