We know how to glance at the camera. We've always known it, being so familiar with our own image. Aware of what to expect, we allow ourselves to wallow in a state of hopeful enthusiasm, believing that the end result will portray our most attractive profile. However, this is not to be. These portraits are not meant to be reassuring. Resulting from a physical confrontation between subject and machine, they are meant to question the enduring, restless relationship between who we are and who we think we should be. The entire photographic process is a gradual introspection into the self, where our layers are swept away, to reveal the fragile core. Dissected and manipulated by the long exposure over which we have no control, our facade slowly collapses, to free up a new and dangerous consciousness. The photographer acts as a Socratic mentor; the subject knows the answers already, but they need to be asked the right questions in order to fully comprehend their meaning. Fragments of identity are rescued and assembled. The shell crumbles into dust, allowing the intimate persona to blossom.
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