Self Portrait

 

I don't take enough photos of myself.

I remember in my first B&W photography class, we were assigned a self-portrait project.  It was hard.  My professor wanted us to capture our raw personalities.  I smiled for most of my pictures and looked off to the side.  That shows I'm artsy, right?

I failed that lesson.  If only because my photos turned out blurry. 

But I remember looking at the negatives to those photos not too long ago and thinking I could do that assignment better now.  

Because this is what I know to be true about myself now:

I'm not all that creative, but I have my moments.

I normally think my photos are better than they actually are.

I must be susceptible to premature greying because I'm plucking a handful every month or so.

I'm only 23.

But where did the time go?  I'm already 23.

30 will be here in the blink of an eye and that scares me. 

I'm scared to get older.

Not for wrinkles and health, but for the mere fact that time goes by way too quickly.  In 10 years time, what regrets will I have? 

Speaking of wrinkles, I'm pretty well set on where mine will be.

I'm a good brow furrower.  Even when I think my face is relaxed, it's not.

Maybe it's because I'm such a worrier.

And I'll probably have crow's feet.  That's from smiling.  So are parentheses wrinkles.  I'll have those too.  I hope I'll think of them as a badge of honor.  It means I've lived happy.

I don't present myself the way a lot of other women do.  I'm okay with freckles and my makeup is sparse.

My skin isn't that great anyway.  So I accept it.

I lack profoundness, but cringe when I see others forcing it.

I sometimes wish I was artsy-fartsy.  The weirdness of the art world is beautiful, though I understand why most people don't get it.  My unsung hero is Sandy Skoglund.  Yet I married a true blue all-American boy who is the definition of baseball and hot dogs and apple pie. 

I find noise in a picture gives it interest.  Maybe I'm just saying that because I'm the Queen of Noise.

I want to be really good at something.  I hope I'm good at weaving once I learn.  It will take time, and patience is not a trait I was blessed with.

Aside from some physical aspects, I am happy with myself.  But the things I don't like can be quickly fixed if I really wanted.

But how do I put all that into a picture?  Is a picture worth 1000 words?  Because when I took this photo of myself, I wasn't thinking all that.  I was simply staring straight into the camera trying to relax my face.  

Alas.  A furrowed brow.  

But it's interesting that once a photo is taken, it can assume whatever form the viewer wants.  When I look at the picture, I see sparse eyebrows and freckles.  But I also see shadows of a younger me.  I guess my looks haven't changed so much after all.  It makes me wonder what I'll look like at age 40.  The same but with aged skin?  Will my brow be more pronounced?  Will my eyes still look the same?  Will more eye surgeries relax my left eye further?

Not exactly 1000 words.

  I now understand what my professor was trying to get out of us.  Art is interpreted an infinte amount of ways.  Just as people are.  

Jarred sees sadness in the photo.  Or Worry.  Or fear.  Possibly.

Those aren't exactly the emotions I was feeling as the photo was being taken.  But that's how Jarred sees it.  And that's important, as an artist or photographer to understand how others view your work.

Which can be a metaphor for life in general.  No, I don't think anyone's life should be controlled by anyone else, but I do believe that everyone should care how they present themselves to the world.  

I sometimes get nervous around people.  But am I seen as snotty?  I talk with my hands.  Does that mean I'm nervous?  I tend to look away as I talk to people when I'm flustered.  Does that make me socially awkward?  I try to be nice to everyone and can converse about shared interests with complete strangers.  Does that make me likable?

Does comparing self-portraits to real life make me profound?

3 years after my photography assignment was due, I understand the importance of self portraits.  For the longest time, I had my mind made up that those who called themselves photographers were just people who didn't like posing in pictures and didn't experience life.  I personally never cared one way or the other.  I never ducked out of frames or threw my arms out to get noticed in pictures either.  I just didn't understand why those who loved using cameras wanted to be stuck behind a lens their entire lives while their family and friends had fun.

Don't they want people to remember they were here?  Don't they want people to remember what they looked like?  Don't they want their loved ones to see their personality come alive through pictures?

I assumed not.

But not true, I've come to find.  Unfortunately, there are too many photographers amateur and professional alike that don't see the importance of capturing themselves.

I love taking photographs.  But I make myself take self portraits.  I want to remember how I looked at 23, a year into marriage and getting ready to journey back into the art field.  The last may be the reason for the brow.  Who knows.

I can't go back in time and resubmit my self-portrait assignment, but if I could, I think I'd be confident knowing that I captured something good.  I captured myself with every perfection and flaw.  I have my idea of what I want people to see when they look at my face, but I can't make them see it if they want to see something else.  

But the most important things I get from this picture is the fact that I am alive, I have lived, I have many stories to tell and I am perfectly me at age 23.

That's what a self-portrait is supposed to say.

Which, one should note, apparently takes 1050 words to say.