Portraits.
A full catastrophe portrait is messy. Sort of don’t-wear-white type messy. As it should be.
Oh” said Rachel as we coffee-d up “so you’re a portrait artist, who uses words instead of paint”
Rachel is an artist herself, and she reminded me that we rarely see ourselves the way others do.
You might think that in this day and age - the age of the ubiquitous selfie - why do I need a portrait? Why do I need my story told?
It's a good question. Two good questions really.
It's also deeply human to want to know how we're seen. To know how others might tell our story. We’re all curious about that, and go to some lengths to find out.
People have beautiful things to say about you. But you must die first - Fyodor Dostoevsky
I make two portraits. Both made from words and photographs. Think of one as a chapter, the chapter with the plot twist in it. The other is the whole nine yards. It’s what you’ll leave behind.
A full catastrophe portrait — your life, or someone you love, is your story. But it’s my take on things.
I’m in my gonzo period.
Portraits are published as a fancy coffee table book. Or a ‘zine if you don’t like coffee tables.
I’m telling my own story in much the same way I’d tell yours, leaving in all the bits you think you should leave out.
It’s better that way.