“I try to interfere as little as possible in the evolution of the work. I do not want it to be distorted by my opinions, which are the most trivial things about us. The notion of art as a compromise is a simplification, for no one knows entirely what he is doing. A writer can conceive of a fable, Kipling acknowledged, without grasping its moral. He must be true to his imagination, and not to the mere ephemeral circumstances of a supposed ‘reality’.” ~ Borges
What is true of the written story is true of you — a story without words.
A portrait is not something to approach intellectually. Our surface knowledge does not define us. Names, dates, places, experiences. Those are not who we are.
I began as a landscape photographer. Trees and sweeping vistas. It didn’t take me long to make the transition to faces, which are the landscapes of our souls.
I imagine myself as a moon. That’s my approach or, if you insist, my technique. It’s so easy that I hesitate to even say it. I orbit the planet you. I hover, like a satellite with a recording eye. I don’t know what I’m looking for but I know that it will reveal itself if I harmonize with whatever it is that belies your physical being, and your coneptual self.
Your biography is but a small version of your story. But it’s not who you are. You are non-linear and timeless. Those facts, which we insist on using to define us— our born-on dates, the pithy quotes and aphorisms, the handles which are our names — they may appear solid when chiseled into granite, but they but a thimble to an ocean. We’re not headstones.
I’m a portrait photographer. My intention is not identification but revelation. Anyone can take a good picture. A likeness is easy to create. But a mere likeness sells a person short. I’m not interested in recognizing you in a crowded room. I’m interested in knowing who you are.
A good portrait identifies. A great portrait inspires curiousity. Great portraits are what I do.