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| The signs of spring - shirtless man and trees in bloom. |
While hanging out with an old friend the other day, she mentioned spotting a shirtless man in
the park and thinking of me. Another friend, a few hours later, texted me a picture of a shirtless man
sitting in an open window of a brick apartment building. This all got me thinking about my shirtless
man obsession, which apparently has manifested itself enough to become part of my bizarre personal
identity. When friends see a shirtless man, they think of me. I’d like to take a moment to examine my
obsession and take stock of its meaning — if not for the deeper discovery of some kind of universal
truth, then for shits and giggles. Because really, what’s more funny than a shirtless man?
I think it’s best to start at the very beginning — to start with my bare-chested patient zero — in what
has become my general fascination with the shirtless man. This man is Jeff, or as he’s come to be
known, for lack of originality, Shirtless Jeff.
has become my general fascination with the shirtless man. This man is Jeff, or as he’s come to be
known, for lack of originality, Shirtless Jeff.
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| The Shirtless Jeff — my patient zero |
Jeff is a family friend of our former nextdoor neighbors, who were — nicely put — very rough around
the edges. In the eight or so years they lived nextdoor, their home was visited frequently by the local
police and their two grown adult sons were well acquainted with the county jail. After quitting my
newspaper photographer job to become a stay-at-home mom, I found myself inundated with both
boredom and curiosity. How could I resist documenting the shit show performances of our fucked up
neighbors and their associates? Thus, one afternoon, I captured the image of Shirtless Jeff hanging
out on the neighbor’s front stairs in all his flabtabulous glory — an image that would end up launching
a thousand other shirtless man images. As I recall, it was a very hot and humid summer day, so at
least his shirtlessness was justified to a point. However, this fact did not stop me from posting the
photo on Facebook in a mocking manner because, really, I’m an asshole, I was bored, I thought it
was pretty amusing and if this is the scenery I must bear looking out of my front porch window, why
not share it with the world?
Once you start noticing shirtless men, you suddenly realize that they're everywhere. Unless of course
it's winter in Minnesota. Minnesota winters aren’t exactly conducive for exposing bare skin to the
elements. Following a long winter of itchy wool sweaters, tight undershirts and restrictive bulky parkas,
some guys are over eager to shed it all upon the first slightly warm day. As the mercury slowly rises,
my anticipation of spotting and documenting the First Shirtless Man of Spring is high. Capturing a
photograph of this man has become a bit of a hobby. A couple years ago, I found myself driving
around the neighborhood — while the toddler car napped — in search of the First Shirtless Man of
Spring. Partially out of stay-at-home-mom boredom and partially out of craziness, this seemed like a
good idea. My former career as a photojournalist exposing the seedy underbelly of society had indeed
evolved into simply documenting man’s shirtless underbelly.
The pinnacle of my First Shirtless Man of Spring hunting expeditions had to be the year I managed
to capture a photograph of a shirtless man jogging past snow banks on the actual first day of spring.
It’s a glorious image of a middle aged white man jogging in the bright sunshine, showing off his pale,
pasty plumage following a long dormant winter. Unlike the groundhog, this proud specimen is not
skittish at the sight of his own shadow and feels no shame in exposing his manly chest to the world
at large. Later, as summer was fading and fall was quickly approaching, I like to think I bumped into
him again, sitting at a picnic table in the park. Only now, he was an old fat man. Still proud and
shirtless, he gazed off pensively and took in his surroundings. Just like Baby New Year grows into
Father Time, the First Shirtless Man of Spring had become the Fat Shirtless Man of Fall. It had been
a wonderful summer filled with beer and bratwurst, culminating with the fried food orgy known as
the Minnesota State Fair.
to capture a photograph of a shirtless man jogging past snow banks on the actual first day of spring.
It’s a glorious image of a middle aged white man jogging in the bright sunshine, showing off his pale,
pasty plumage following a long dormant winter. Unlike the groundhog, this proud specimen is not
skittish at the sight of his own shadow and feels no shame in exposing his manly chest to the world
at large. Later, as summer was fading and fall was quickly approaching, I like to think I bumped into
him again, sitting at a picnic table in the park. Only now, he was an old fat man. Still proud and
shirtless, he gazed off pensively and took in his surroundings. Just like Baby New Year grows into
Father Time, the First Shirtless Man of Spring had become the Fat Shirtless Man of Fall. It had been
a wonderful summer filled with beer and bratwurst, culminating with the fried food orgy known as
the Minnesota State Fair.
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| The First Shirtless Man of Spring meets the Fat Shirtless Man of Fall |
My obsession with the shirtless man has become somewhat of a sport, or maybe more akin to birdwatching. Once you start paying attention, you’ll start seeing them everywhere and it’s easy to start putting them into various categories. It really wouldn’t take much work to make-up a whole classification system of shirtless men. The shirtless man who labors outdoors in the hot sunshine, the buff shirtless runner who wants to show off his body, the shirtless cyclist who’s asking for a world of hurt if he falls off his bike . . . the possibilities are endless. Still, I’m not really sure why I am obsessed with the shirtless man, but I can’t stop noticing them, thinking about and commenting on their basic existence. And much like the shirtless man himself, I feel no shame. After all, we all need a hobby.
When Is it Okay to be a Shirtless Man in Public?
1. You're at the beach or the pool.
2. Your name is Bruce Banner. Surely Dr. Banner would have a hard time continuously stocking his
closet with new shirts.
3. Your shirtless image is vital to the meme world community. Think Vladimir Putin.
4. Your name is Iggy Pop.
5. You literally need to give the shirt off your back to somebody in dire need of a shirt.
6. Your name is Jesus Christ.
7. You're on display at an art museum and carved out of marble.
8. You're on the skins team in a pick-up game of basketball.
9. You're an underwear model whose livelihood depends upon being shirtless.
10. You have invested a ton of time and money in covering more than 50% of your torso with
interesting, meaningful and artistically rendered tattoos.
11. It is 1963 . . . you're a kid from the streets named Johnny making a little green teaching dance lessons to rich, bored, middle aged housewives at a resort in the Catskills.
Stay tuned for part II: a more serious look at the shirtless man and society
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