I absolutely hate to have my photograph taken, but I like to take self-portraits. In all likelihood, the reason for the former and the latter are the same — I feel exposed when having my photograph taken, as if I am laying my soul open for the photographer to read all the things that I can’t/won’t say. There are few people, if any, with whom I am willing to share that experience.
This self-portrait, taken in 1992 during my sophomore year in college, is probably my first. My photojournalism class was assigned to shoot a series of five self-portraits depicting each person’s past present and future. This image illustrated my senior year of high school.
I was immersed in my studies, driven by an innate need to be the best. I loved photography, loved my boyfriend, loved music, and dreamed of going to Paris someday. My favorite book was Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, and The Beatles’ “1967-1970” cassette was almost always in my tape player, along with The Beatles’ “White Album,” Led Zeppelin’s “Houses of the Holy,” Journey’s “Greatest Hits,” and Simon and Garfunkel’s “Greatest Hits.”
I was a writer and photographer for the local weekly newspaper and worked at a veterinarian’s office on afternoons and weekends. In between, I was an avid chess player and a wanna-be poet, a secret rebel and a straight-laced conformist, an outward romantic and inner cynic. I was a nail-biter and a pencil-chewer, a dreamer and an idealist. My life was hectic and complicated. I liked it that way. Or at least I thought I did. Sometimes I wonder.
Music of the day: So Far So Good by Thornley (lyrics)