his self, my self, your self

1955 my father’s self portrait

today i am teaching a class on self portraits and truth. this art form i stumbled into years ago for reasons only my heart can share. this art form that holds me kindly in a way that’s hard to explain. why is it that some of us are drawn to study the self? does it make you feel uncomfortable, seen, or loved? or all of the above? i’m curious to hear your thoughts on self portraits. as we lean in closer, we see our own eyes looking back. it is through self portraiture that we learn to look kindly at ourselves.

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