Actually, putting the camera on the ground and leaning against the hood of the Bronco while a police officer radios my drivers' license number in to headquarters doesn't constitute adventure. But it keeps the adrenaline pumping.

Angel Khan and I were surrounded by eight of South San Francisco's finest one night. They told us it wasn't safe where we were. It seemed pretty safe to me, what with eight policemen having captured us from two different routes. A move worthy of a SWAT team. At least they didn't have either dogs or shotguns.

Melissa and I were shooting in a construction site in her hometown, tresspassing of course, when the town cops erased all remnants of night vision with their spotlight.

In Billings we were doing some shooting in an abandoned meat packing plant when a pickup truck pulled up and a guy, who identified himself as an owner of the property, got out and wanted to know why we thought tresspassing was OK. A little later, he'd agreed that we could finish up the few pictures and leave. A bit later he said we'd be welcome to shoot there whenever we like, and finally he invited us to shoot inside. We never did get around to doing that, though. Maybe next trip.

While photographing a prospective model just north of San Diego, the police came to investigate someone doing kiddy porn. Fortunately the security guard at that location set the police straight, then came back and continued to watch the shoot.

Security guards really want to be helpful. Gives them good stories to tell and a chance to beat the utter boredom of that job. (I used to be one - I know.)

Katie and Wynton were in there skimpies on the railroad track in Houston. Katie's mother (fully clothed) was along on the shoot. I was using a spotlight for the shot. When the light meter said I had more light than I expected I looked back to see my spotlight joined by another one. Oh yes. According to that one, "Someone might jump out of the bushes..."

There are a couple of good practices in dealing with the authorities: Don't drool. Talk like a real person. Pretend to be a student. And cooperate.

All of this potential for official attention can make a guy jittery, though. So when it comes to shooting nudes on the street, I'm pretty damned cautious.

It is a rush to shoot nudes on the street. You find the right location, then the model scampers out, you get the shot, she scampers back and you drive away giggling. It's a rush for everyone, including anyone that notices it.

It's no big thrill in Hollywood. No one ever reacts to anything on the street there, and I get the feeling it's a routine thing. New York and San Francisco are similar in that the police couldn't care less, though they might watch while eating their donuts.

Here in San Diego, I'd expect to get hauled in to Vice, so any nudes shot here are very discreet. Small or conservative towns are tricky. Industrial areas are probably best. No one works late at a union dock, and lights installed over the centuries vary beautifully.

I was contacted by a starlet last year that wanted to shoot nudes in public. Real public. Restaurants and downtown streets. (She wanted to be able to publish a book in her old age.) Just thinking about shooting that made me shudder. Fortunately she got picked up by a soap and couldn't take the risk.

And then there's the regular adventure of driving around a strange city and ending up in a part of town one wouldn't normally frequent.

A couple years back I photographed Larissa in Chicago. It was at night, and we found a bunch of folks drinking beverages outside a tavern for local colour. No real problem there except I had to keep telling the big friendly guy "Don't touch the model!" She was a minor and both she and her mother saw a different side of Chicago that night.

Though I live in that kind of neighborhood now, it's different when it's a strange one. And the adventure compounds quickly when you see a light too good to pass up.

From the top down, the models are Angel, Sacha, Wynton & Katie and Katherine.

-Don