The door to the dark room is never shut. At any moment an anxious voyeur may peer around it, his fingers curled suggestively on the vestigial light switch, as a woman on the rumpled bed displays her cunt to him. His creeping hand is speared on the axis between her upturned arse and its reflection in the mirror on the wall. Thus the viewer sees what the voyeur sees; the voyeur a version of Fontenoy himself. I would like to say he plays with mirrors but the man never stops working.
Each image is carefully planned in advance. He controls every detail, from preliminary sketches and notes to photos of himself blocking the scene so that the models know what they have to do to fulfil his vision. In another admirable perversion, Fontenoy uses digital equipment only preparatory to the finished shot, which is a Polaroid. Polaroid offers a lack of focus – an imminently obsolete blur – which renders the sheen on a stocking or patent leather all the more adorable when in contrast to the mysterious harness of a strap-on cock underlining the curve of female buttocks. No wonder the gent in the horn-rimmed spectacles looks so intense: this is a place of liberty for women who rejoice in their form; even with a fistful of long blonde hair as he yanks her face to his to his crotch, his other hand must remain firmly on the shutter-release.