I have always been fascinated with celebrity portraits. I realize how shallow this might sound. However, I am not referring to the paparazzi style photos seen at the supermarket checkout. I love the beautifully theatrical portraits that give us a glimpse of the real person mixed with a touch of fantasy. Of course there is nothing greater than an honest, straight forward portrait that reveals something about the person's life or personality, if that is actually possible. We have been taught that the camera never lies when in fact it is the greatest liar that ever existed. So what happens when we sit for a portrait? Who is actually in control?  The person being photographed? The photographer? We all know the feeling of being photographed, especially now that cell phone cameras capture every moment of our lives.  We instinctively put on our "camera" face. We try to hide our weaknesses and show our strengths. Tuck in the belly, smile, keep the chin up to look thinner. How is it any different from a styled photo shoot with props and lighting? It isn't. Celebrities just have bigger budgets than we do. Their faces are their product. It's what they sell us.
Theater, like all the arts, is a reflection of life. It just makes life seem a bit more interesting. So when I see a celebrity portrait that is full of drama, comedy or even tragedy, I smile and wonder where the line has been drawn. Where does the fantasy end and reality begin? How much is true? Maybe I am seeing the real person disguised as a personification of himself.
The portraits I have included in this blog represent this idea. They are not celebrity portraits. They are representations of John, Will and Zoe. They show a side to these people that exist beneath the surface but very much part of their personalities. It's a bit of theater to help express Will's fascination with beautiful cars, John's brooding bohemian personality, Victor's suave persona and Zoe's beautiful inner soul.

I recently attended a memorial service for someone very close to me. Family members gave testimonials followed by music and prayers.  Afterwards, a projection screen descended from the chapel ceiling. More music and then suddenly a slide show of her life.  Photographs of her as an infant, a young girl, her first tricycle, dressed and smiling in a girl scout uniform. Time began to move quickly. We see her posed in a prom dress and then a wedding gown. Always smiling at the camera. Always aware of it's presence, it's importance. As I watched I realized that our lives are not made up of monumental events. There are weddings and babies being born, high school and college graduation, but the small moments seemed more important.  I keep seeing her beautiful face as she poses for her mom (or dad) in her girl scout uniform. The sun casting a shadow over her left shoulder. It's one of those New England Spring days that gives you hope that winter is finally over. So many small moments that make up an entire life. Most of these memories are forgotten. They become blurry and fade with time.  We remember the big events because they are in brilliant Kodachrome, etched in our minds forever.  But all those small moments that were captured tell the real story. The look in her eyes as she opens her Christmas present, the gesture she makes while holding her baby sister all tell us more about her than words can describe.
Photographs can often deceive but if you look close enough there is truth and there is beauty.

All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
― Susan Sontag

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There is a poem written by Jorge Luis Borges called "What Can I Hold You With?"
My favorite line is "I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were    born".  This sentence, this beautiful sentiment, has stayed with me and rolls around my head, never letting me rest. What does it mean? Why does it resonate with me far more than any other idea?
The memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset. Memory of an image. An image in color, seen at a particular time of day. This is what I have been striving for most of my life. To retain a memory forever. A simple, beautiful image.  An image that expresses so much and yet nothing at all. This idea rushes through my veins and makes my head pound with the excitement of capturing such an important moment. A rose at sunset, not an historical event or monumental life changing experience. 
This is why I am a photographer. Look at my photographs. What do you see? You see tiny moments. You see the minute details of life that are witnessed by me and captured as best I can with whatever tool I have with me.  Yet, I would trade all those images for the right to claim that one sentence written by Borges...."I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born".