Sunday, March 27, 2011


As a teenager, I skipped a lot of school (don't do this kids) and seemed always to end up at The Kimbell... which luckily happened(s) to be one of the most beautiful structures on the planet.
A permanent, free exhibit. A book store and coffee shop before Barnes and Noble became the thing. If anyone was curious as to why I was there at least twice a week, they never bothered to ask or run me off. I'd like to think the security guys figured that I was safe. Leave the lanky loner kid be.

I would stare at this piece by Courbet for literally hours on end. Hours. It is burned into my DNA. I close my eyes and can see it as if it's right in front of me. I'm not certain why exactly it was this particular painting that spoke to lost, adolescent me... or that if I was finally able to figure it out... that it would even posses an agreed-upon word to describe it.

Gustave Courbet (1819-1877) Portrait of H.J. van Wisselingh

Certainly, it's been what I continue to chase visually over and over again, despite the subject, medium, technology or situation.

I like to imagine that it's something light can't contain - or refract thru - or reflect off of.
That it's that thing behind the eyes that tells a whole story without saying a word.


Tiffany Lonsdale and Farah White in 'This is a Love Story' photo by Dutch Rall

Here is a better director than I working out his portrait process.
It seems he may have had some interesting demons to chase.

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