>> Saturday, March 29, 2014
For a long time now I've been really into collecting paintings of strangers. I purchased my first, five years ago at a little antique shop on the Cape. We used to think it was weird. Bryan and I would tell people that the portrait was the Remi Sabbe that we named our oldest after [white lies]. But then, before Christmas, I bought myself the book, Humans of New York. I had not seen the Facebook page and only came across it after reading a rec from Joanna Goddard's blog. The moment it came in the mail, I sat down on the sofa and devoured it. I could not look up. It was beautiful and touching and it was basically portraits of total strangers. And since the book is a New York Times best seller, I have come to the conclusion, we all like to look at strangers. Whether in photograph or on a canvas, there is something intimate about being able to look at someone, study them, ponder who they are, and where they've been, with no hurry to look away.
And here is a creepy man who made it into one of my recent project shoots.
The one on the wall, not in the tub:) Just kidding Michael!
True story, I remember being out to eat as a child and getting told not to stare. In that moment I remember thinking "I cannot wait until I grow up. I'm going to stare at anyone I want, as long as I want" I think my social skills have slightly improved, but some things never change. You people fascinate me.