Is Art A Self-Portrait? In Conversation With Donald Lokuta by Larry Baumhor
Donald Lokuta, photo by Larry Baumhor
Is Art A Self-Portrait?
In Conversation With Donald Lokuta
by Larry Baumhor
No one knows who we are anymore, our masks are cracking and we’re running out of plaster.
“All serious art is a self-portrait. It must be,” – Donald Lokuta.
Lokuta thought that Cindy Sherman’s statement “that none of my work is about me or my private life,” is nonsense.
“My photographs are certainly not self-portraits or representations of myself, though unfortunately people always keep saying they are,” – Cindy Sherman.
Cindy Sherman, photo by Larry Baumhor
“We’re all products of what we want to project to the world. Even people who don’t spend any time, or think they don’t, on preparing themselves for the world out there – I think that ultimately they have for their whole lives groomed themselves to be a certain way, to present a face to the world.” – Cindy Sherman.
“Larry, I believe that the work of any serious artist should be considered a self-portrait. It can say more about the artist than the subject of the work of art.” – Donald Lokuta.
“Larry, I believe that the work of any serious artist should be considered a self-portrait. It can say more about the artist than the subject of the work of art.” – Donald Lokuta.
Larry Baumhor
Whistler said, “We look at great art to be in the presence of the artist. We look at a painting to know the painter; it’s his company we are after, not his skill.”
“What is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives. My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder. My art is grounded in reflections on being different from others. My sufferings are part of myself and my art,” Edvard Munch.
“When I write I don’t aim to shock people, and I’m surprised when I do. But I don’t think that anything that occurs in life should be omitted from art, though the artist should present it in a fashion that is artistic and not ugly. I set out to tell the truth. And sometimes the truth is shocking.”– Tennessee Williams/The Paris Review/Fall 1981
“What is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives. My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder. My art is grounded in reflections on being different from others. My sufferings are part of myself and my art,” Edvard Munch.
“When I write I don’t aim to shock people, and I’m surprised when I do. But I don’t think that anything that occurs in life should be omitted from art, though the artist should present it in a fashion that is artistic and not ugly. I set out to tell the truth. And sometimes the truth is shocking.”– Tennessee Williams/The Paris Review/Fall 1981
Larry: Do we look at art through an autobiographical experience?
Donald: Did you ever hear someone say, I don’t like that piece of art? It doesn’t speak to me. There is an emotional response when looking at art. So yes, we look at art that speaks to us, and we try to understand the artist. I’m interested in people. Tons of great artists don’t get discovered. I find a lot of art locally that is better than the art in galleries. Psychological art moves me. I enjoy the experience of viewing someone else’s art from their point of view.
Larry: Is it like a symbiotic relationship? We want to be in the presence of the artist because we feel something about the art that has something to do with us.
Donald: Yes, that’s why some art makes a greater impression than others. But most art is worth looking at. We can experience something new, and possibly revolutionary. We are all complicated human beings – we are multi-faceted, and so are artists. Look at the work of Brassai: Paris by night photos, pictures of graffiti, transmutations, involuntary sculpture, street photos, and nudes. You come to the conclusion looking at his work that he’s playful, he’s curious, he’s experimental, he’s restless, he’s willing to take a chance.
Larry: How would Picasso’s art be autobiographical, especially his cubism?
Donald: Picasso is a great example. If you want to know how Picasso felt about the women in his life just look at the paintings he made of them. Picasso was restless – curious and experimental. He saw the world differently. Picasso wanted to show us a different way of seeing. Like Brassai and a very long list of others, he’s showing us what was on his mind and how he felt.
Donald: Did you ever hear someone say, I don’t like that piece of art? It doesn’t speak to me. There is an emotional response when looking at art. So yes, we look at art that speaks to us, and we try to understand the artist. I’m interested in people. Tons of great artists don’t get discovered. I find a lot of art locally that is better than the art in galleries. Psychological art moves me. I enjoy the experience of viewing someone else’s art from their point of view.
Larry: Is it like a symbiotic relationship? We want to be in the presence of the artist because we feel something about the art that has something to do with us.
Donald: Yes, that’s why some art makes a greater impression than others. But most art is worth looking at. We can experience something new, and possibly revolutionary. We are all complicated human beings – we are multi-faceted, and so are artists. Look at the work of Brassai: Paris by night photos, pictures of graffiti, transmutations, involuntary sculpture, street photos, and nudes. You come to the conclusion looking at his work that he’s playful, he’s curious, he’s experimental, he’s restless, he’s willing to take a chance.
Larry: How would Picasso’s art be autobiographical, especially his cubism?
Donald: Picasso is a great example. If you want to know how Picasso felt about the women in his life just look at the paintings he made of them. Picasso was restless – curious and experimental. He saw the world differently. Picasso wanted to show us a different way of seeing. Like Brassai and a very long list of others, he’s showing us what was on his mind and how he felt.
Pablo Picasso - Femme écrivant Marie-Thérèse, 1934
Larry: Why are George Segal’s sculptures about himself?
Donald: George Segal’s sculptures are about ordinary people doing ordinary things in common places. That’s his life. He admitted to me that he identified with ordinary people. That’s how he felt and that’s what he shows us. He shows us moments that we take for granted during a typical day. We take these situations for granted and George created art about it. He shows us people sitting in a chair, or in a coffee shop, people walking under scaffolding in Manhattan. George said this is what it means to be human. Many of George’s sculptures are personal and thoughtful. That was George! That’s what he wanted to communicate. To make great art you must look inside yourself.
Donald: George Segal’s sculptures are about ordinary people doing ordinary things in common places. That’s his life. He admitted to me that he identified with ordinary people. That’s how he felt and that’s what he shows us. He shows us moments that we take for granted during a typical day. We take these situations for granted and George created art about it. He shows us people sitting in a chair, or in a coffee shop, people walking under scaffolding in Manhattan. George said this is what it means to be human. Many of George’s sculptures are personal and thoughtful. That was George! That’s what he wanted to communicate. To make great art you must look inside yourself.
George Segal completing Depression Breadline, 1991. Sculpture for the FDR Memorial, Washington, DC. Photo by Donald Lokuta
Larry: A lot of art is a subliminal message. In some cases, it’s a subconscious creative process.
Donald: I believe that’s true. Munch knew that, but many artists were not aware of their subconscious process. Even Cezanne said painting from nature is not copying. He tried to communicate the sensations he felt when in front of an object. He’s painting the sensations, not the subject. And Stieglitz was sharing with us his sensitive and personal feelings for Georgia O’Keeffe.
Larry: Georgia O’Keeffe’s flowers and the work she did in the desert is a reflection of herself.
Donald: I believe she found a place and a color palate for herself. Is O’Keeffe making decorative art for someone else? No, she cares about saying something with her work. And do some of her flower paintings have sexual overtones? I say yes – she says no!
Georgia O’Keeffe
Larry: How is your photography, like the Mermaid Parade, a reflection of yourself?
Donald: I’m interested in people. I like to see how people dress up and act. People get out of their normal selves at events like that. I’m fascinated by how people want to portray themselves. I did that with the Bushwig cross-dressing photos and the Mermaid Parade. People wear masks. They hide their identity. We do that every day. What we portray in daily life is likely not real and the masks and costumes we put on are an attempt to escape from one unreality to another – if only for a short time. There are a lot of psychological studies on that. The mermaid parade allows the participants to design their costumes, dress up, and show off their creations. Some marchers are masked as they assume another identity, and in many cases, it offers an opportunity to display a side of one’s self that is seldom seen. To me, it’s a window into how we see ourselves.
Coney Island Mermaid Parade, photo by Donald Lokuta
Bushwig Drag Festival, photo by Donald Lokuta
Larry: We don’t want to be who we are. We want to change ourselves, even if it’s for a temporary time.
Donald: Exactly, it’s about letting ourselves go; something you would like to be.
Larry: How are my transportation photos of buses, subways, and trains self-portraits?
Donald: You showed me your world. Many of the people in your photographs are not happy. The world is not happy. It’s a revealing, fascinating part of your life. I’m reacting because I didn’t know about that, and that’s what art is about. You changed my perspective of these people who are struggling. Some of them are not having a good day. As Picasso said, “There is only one way to see things until someone shows us how to look at art with different eyes.” You’re showing me how to look at these people through your eyes and it’s marvelous. The photos are like self-portraits. It’s part of your life that I didn’t know about. To be honest, I wish I had taken those photographs. But, would that even be possible?
Donald: Exactly, it’s about letting ourselves go; something you would like to be.
Larry: How are my transportation photos of buses, subways, and trains self-portraits?
Donald: You showed me your world. Many of the people in your photographs are not happy. The world is not happy. It’s a revealing, fascinating part of your life. I’m reacting because I didn’t know about that, and that’s what art is about. You changed my perspective of these people who are struggling. Some of them are not having a good day. As Picasso said, “There is only one way to see things until someone shows us how to look at art with different eyes.” You’re showing me how to look at these people through your eyes and it’s marvelous. The photos are like self-portraits. It’s part of your life that I didn’t know about. To be honest, I wish I had taken those photographs. But, would that even be possible?
Market Street El in Philadelphia, by Larry Baumhor
58 Bus in Philadelphia, by Larry Baumhor
Donald: Absolutely! Diane views the world differently. She also had emotional problems. Through art, we can express ourselves on canvas, writing, photographs, etc. This is what Arbus did. She went to Hubert’s Museum in Times Square to photograph freaks, giants, crossdressers, and people on the edge of society. She shows us what she thinks about and how she feels.
Zondra is a man dressed as a woman at the Garage Antique Flea Market. Photo by Larry Baumhor
Larry: Donald, you shot photos of the Arbus twins twelve years after she did.
Donald: I think you are asking why I photographed the Twins.
Donald: I think you are asking why I photographed the Twins.
After Arbus created the photograph in 1967 outside the Knights of Columbus Hall in Roselle, NJ, the girls never saw her again. Twelve years later I discovered who they were. Cathleen and Colleen lived in a neighboring town and I just wanted to photograph them because it was an interesting thing to do to find out what they were like. There was so much analysis of her photograph of the twins – the good and evil twins etc. They were about 19 when I photographed them. I was invited to their house by their parents and later arranged a time when I could photograph them. I spent some time with them and I found them to be perfectly normal young women.
Six People On Rocks, 1986 by Donald Lokuta
IN PLATO’S CAVE
“This series of photographs, In Plato’s Cave, is about a world of illusion and belief. The photographs were inspired by the “Allegory of the Cave” in Plato’s Republic, in which Plato used the cave as a metaphor. He asks us to imagine bound prisoners in a cave who are forced to face the far wall of the cave; they can hear sounds and voices but cannot see their fellow prisoners beside them, only a distorted reality of shadows cast on the cave wall. Having been in that environment from early childhood, they have never seen the outside world and believe that the shadow figures are a true view of the world.
As we read this text, we realize that we may be those prisoners, that we all live in a cave where, to one degree or another, we accept much of what we hear and see as the truth. Plato presents us with the possibility that what we believe is the truth may be based on an illusion formed with limited information, that our reluctance to analyze and use our intelligence will lead us to a misconception based on illusion and belief.
In the modern world, our government leaders, corporations, financial institutions, and economic policies are often less than transparent. And our media often present a version of history and current events through their own agenda, blurring the difference between the accurate reporting of information and their own form of entertainment. There are unseen truths hidden beneath the surface of what we assume to be accurate.
What each of us sees is determined by how critical our thinking is and how willing and able we are to use our intelligence to reason. Without a curious mind and the desire to use reason, we may accept what we see and hear at face value, which brings us no closer to the truth than shadow figures on the cave wall.” – Donald Lokuta.
At any given time on any given weekend, the theatrical fashion climate in the Garage was something the Paris and New York runways couldn’t duplicate, even with their best designers. The ramps leading from the street were the entrance to the theatre, where the fashion plates pranced before the show; the floor of the Garage was the stage. It was magical; you became mesmerized in the land of enchantment. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them with their dramatic styles, strong vivid colors, severe asymmetrical lines, with clothes that were vintage, and handmade. It was the new retro put together with the flare of a maestro leading an orchestra, and the pizzazz of a pop singer with a cult following. Chic and sexy, bold, demure, layered, elegant, fanciful, and sophisticated; the variety was nonstop. And let’s not forget the accessories with engraved canes, bags that barked, and jewelry that masterfully illuminated their styles. The shoes with platforms to heaven, bright vibrant pumps, and sexy heels that sang come dance with me. There were conservatives as well as the avant-garde with their simpler, softer looks and colors, though nonetheless attractive. The wildness of grunge was present as they constructed their village of followers with sometimes layers neatly assimilated into their self-expression. Who are these people and what is it that they are trying to say? Well, it turns out not to be a mystery after all. The common response as to why they dress like they do: “It’s who I am. I’m passionate about fashion, and it’s a creative form of self-expression. I’ve been dressing like this for years.”
In the modern world, our government leaders, corporations, financial institutions, and economic policies are often less than transparent. And our media often present a version of history and current events through their own agenda, blurring the difference between the accurate reporting of information and their own form of entertainment. There are unseen truths hidden beneath the surface of what we assume to be accurate.
What each of us sees is determined by how critical our thinking is and how willing and able we are to use our intelligence to reason. Without a curious mind and the desire to use reason, we may accept what we see and hear at face value, which brings us no closer to the truth than shadow figures on the cave wall.” – Donald Lokuta.
At any given time on any given weekend, the theatrical fashion climate in the Garage was something the Paris and New York runways couldn’t duplicate, even with their best designers. The ramps leading from the street were the entrance to the theatre, where the fashion plates pranced before the show; the floor of the Garage was the stage. It was magical; you became mesmerized in the land of enchantment. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them with their dramatic styles, strong vivid colors, severe asymmetrical lines, with clothes that were vintage, and handmade. It was the new retro put together with the flare of a maestro leading an orchestra, and the pizzazz of a pop singer with a cult following. Chic and sexy, bold, demure, layered, elegant, fanciful, and sophisticated; the variety was nonstop. And let’s not forget the accessories with engraved canes, bags that barked, and jewelry that masterfully illuminated their styles. The shoes with platforms to heaven, bright vibrant pumps, and sexy heels that sang come dance with me. There were conservatives as well as the avant-garde with their simpler, softer looks and colors, though nonetheless attractive. The wildness of grunge was present as they constructed their village of followers with sometimes layers neatly assimilated into their self-expression. Who are these people and what is it that they are trying to say? Well, it turns out not to be a mystery after all. The common response as to why they dress like they do: “It’s who I am. I’m passionate about fashion, and it’s a creative form of self-expression. I’ve been dressing like this for years.”
Wren Britton at the Garage Antique Flea Market. Photo by Larry Baumhor
Ben Rey at the Garage Antique Flea Market. Photo by Larry Baumhor
“I searched for meaning in expressionism... as far back as I can think. I didn’t have friends. I had imaginary, REAL relationships... dancing, performance, writing, sculpture, painting... absolutely anything I could do with my hands, with my body... I loved being alone. I don’t think I would have survived otherwise. I remember a wicked, drunken fight followed by broken mirrors everywhere. I saved the pieces. I would haul the jagged glass around with me finding quiet places of peace. I’d create fractal dreamscapes of light and mud hills under trees. I could climb them when I was finished playing in the low and go high up in the tree to look down on my kingdom, a world of my own. An escape plan. I wasn’t just creating art but magic! I didn’t become an artist, I was born like this,” – Dawn Marie-Giles.
I’ve been writing for forty-five years and most of it is autobiographical, including my four books and my manuscript, Antiques Fashion And Madness: The Garage Antique Flea Market.
I come to the Garage to be part of an art community, to be free and uninhibited, to be part of the carnival called the Garage. I’ve produced four self-published books while selling at the Garage: two short story collections, a memoir, and a work of fiction. This would not have been possible without the help of my friends from the Garage. My voice became alive and I became an artist. I also got involved with photography, collage art, and performance art. Throughout the day my inhibitions miraculously disappeared. I metamorphosed into a free spirit as my subconscious took over. Bells rang of freedom to be whoever you desired to be, knowing that encouragement and acceptance were the norm, knowing that you didn’t have to answer to a boss, knowing that this toxic, harshly lit, nearly 100-year-old concrete Garage transcended the buying and selling of antiques and collectibles. It was entertaining theatre, a community of artistic and creative people sharing a common bond, a cultural phenomenon. It’s where eccentricities were nurtured, cherished, and admired. At the heart of the matter, it was the friendships developed and the camaraderie enjoyed by both dealers and collectors week after week. For me, the Garage developed into a commune, and a family of artistic inspiration, collaboration, and friendships that I will cherish way beyond the closing of the Garage. Long live the Garage!
In The Bear and Passover Dinner, I wrote a blog about the TV series and my family, true and autobiographical.
“Here’s another piece of gefilte fish,” Nanny, (Betty Bennett), yelled! Nanny was a crazy Jew who wore a brassiere as a blouse, with a Viceroy cigarette dangling from her lips while serving dinner; a few ashes fell onto our plates. “You’re not eating,” she yelled, always screaming. “You’re not watching the soup,” yelled Nanny to Zayda, (Herman Bennett). “You don’t know anything,” screamed Zayda.
Zayda chained smoked Viceroy cigarettes and drank schnapps out of a shot glass, “L’chayim,” he would yell. And down went another schnapps and another, screaming and arguing with Nanny over nothing. Passover dinner!
The Bear and Passover Dinner were two dysfunctional families. screaming and cursing over one another like rapid machine gun fire, pap, pap, pap. Cursing was the norm. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Serve the soup now Herman.” “Are you crazy,” answered Nanny. Stop screaming,” said Uncle Shecky, (Shecky Bennett) who was addicted to cocaine like Richie, (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) at the restaurant THE ORIGINAL BEEF OF CHICAGOLAND.
I come to the Garage to be part of an art community, to be free and uninhibited, to be part of the carnival called the Garage. I’ve produced four self-published books while selling at the Garage: two short story collections, a memoir, and a work of fiction. This would not have been possible without the help of my friends from the Garage. My voice became alive and I became an artist. I also got involved with photography, collage art, and performance art. Throughout the day my inhibitions miraculously disappeared. I metamorphosed into a free spirit as my subconscious took over. Bells rang of freedom to be whoever you desired to be, knowing that encouragement and acceptance were the norm, knowing that you didn’t have to answer to a boss, knowing that this toxic, harshly lit, nearly 100-year-old concrete Garage transcended the buying and selling of antiques and collectibles. It was entertaining theatre, a community of artistic and creative people sharing a common bond, a cultural phenomenon. It’s where eccentricities were nurtured, cherished, and admired. At the heart of the matter, it was the friendships developed and the camaraderie enjoyed by both dealers and collectors week after week. For me, the Garage developed into a commune, and a family of artistic inspiration, collaboration, and friendships that I will cherish way beyond the closing of the Garage. Long live the Garage!
In The Bear and Passover Dinner, I wrote a blog about the TV series and my family, true and autobiographical.
“Here’s another piece of gefilte fish,” Nanny, (Betty Bennett), yelled! Nanny was a crazy Jew who wore a brassiere as a blouse, with a Viceroy cigarette dangling from her lips while serving dinner; a few ashes fell onto our plates. “You’re not eating,” she yelled, always screaming. “You’re not watching the soup,” yelled Nanny to Zayda, (Herman Bennett). “You don’t know anything,” screamed Zayda.
Zayda chained smoked Viceroy cigarettes and drank schnapps out of a shot glass, “L’chayim,” he would yell. And down went another schnapps and another, screaming and arguing with Nanny over nothing. Passover dinner!
The Bear and Passover Dinner were two dysfunctional families. screaming and cursing over one another like rapid machine gun fire, pap, pap, pap. Cursing was the norm. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Serve the soup now Herman.” “Are you crazy,” answered Nanny. Stop screaming,” said Uncle Shecky, (Shecky Bennett) who was addicted to cocaine like Richie, (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) at the restaurant THE ORIGINAL BEEF OF CHICAGOLAND.
Larry Baumhor
“Donald Lokuta’s career as a photographer, painter, teacher, and historian spans over fifty years. He has authored and co-authored several books and has written many articles about photography. His artwork is published widely and has been included in over 300 exhibitions. Lokuta’s works are in numerous permanent collections such as the Art Museum at Princeton University, the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, the Museum of the City of New York, the International Center of Photography in New York City, Lehigh University in Bethlehem, The New York Historical Society, the National September 11 Memorial & Museum in New York City, the Nelson-Atkins Museum and the Smithsonian Institution (National Museum of American History) in Washington, DC.”
“During the 80’s and 90’s, Lokuta worked closely with renowned artist George Segal. During that time Lokuta took nearly 15,000 photographs that chronicle the life and work of one of the world’s great sculptors. In 1991 he assisted Segal in the creation of three sculptures for the F.D.R. Memorial in Washington, DC. Lokuta was given the honor of being selected to model for the central bronze figure in “The Depression Breadline.”
“Lokuta has had solo exhibitions at Sarah Morthland Gallery in New York; the New Jersey State Museum in Trenton; the Newark Museum in Newark, New Jersey; Parsons School of Design in New York City; Dabac Gallery in Zagreb, Croatia; Srecna Gallery in Belgrade; the Urban Arts Space, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio and the San Antonio Museum of Art. Lokuta’s participation in group exhibitions includes the Museum of Modern Art in New York City; the New York Historical Society; Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York City; Staatliche Museen zu Berlin at the James Simon Galerie; the Columbus Museum of Art in Columbus Ohio; the Front Room Gallery in Singapore; the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City; the Zimmerli Art Museum. Rutgers University, New Brunswick, NJ; the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art in Madison, Wisconsin; Galleria Nationale d’Arte Moderna, Rome, Italy and the Norton Museum of Art in West Palm Beach, Florida. Lokuta is the recipient of twelve grants for his photography, including four prestigious New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship Awards.”
“Donald Lokuta earned his Ph.D. at The Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio, received his M.A. at Montclair University and B.A. at Newark State College in New Jersey. Lokuta guest lectures extensively and is a Distinguished Professor Emeritus. Lokuta’s knowledge of the history of photography is extensive and he has curated many exhibitions.”
“During the 80’s and 90’s, Lokuta worked closely with renowned artist George Segal. During that time Lokuta took nearly 15,000 photographs that chronicle the life and work of one of the world’s great sculptors. In 1991 he assisted Segal in the creation of three sculptures for the F.D.R. Memorial in Washington, DC. Lokuta was given the honor of being selected to model for the central bronze figure in “The Depression Breadline.”
“Lokuta has had solo exhibitions at Sarah Morthland Gallery in New York; the New Jersey State Museum in Trenton; the Newark Museum in Newark, New Jersey; Parsons School of Design in New York City; Dabac Gallery in Zagreb, Croatia; Srecna Gallery in Belgrade; the Urban Arts Space, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio and the San Antonio Museum of Art. Lokuta’s participation in group exhibitions includes the Museum of Modern Art in New York City; the New York Historical Society; Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York City; Staatliche Museen zu Berlin at the James Simon Galerie; the Columbus Museum of Art in Columbus Ohio; the Front Room Gallery in Singapore; the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City; the Zimmerli Art Museum. Rutgers University, New Brunswick, NJ; the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art in Madison, Wisconsin; Galleria Nationale d’Arte Moderna, Rome, Italy and the Norton Museum of Art in West Palm Beach, Florida. Lokuta is the recipient of twelve grants for his photography, including four prestigious New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship Awards.”
“Donald Lokuta earned his Ph.D. at The Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio, received his M.A. at Montclair University and B.A. at Newark State College in New Jersey. Lokuta guest lectures extensively and is a Distinguished Professor Emeritus. Lokuta’s knowledge of the history of photography is extensive and he has curated many exhibitions.”
.JPG)
Hey, Larry. Thumbs up xx
ReplyDeleteThis is a marvelous and fascinating interview, Larry. Thanks. I really enjoyed the carefully selected quotes, too.
ReplyDeletewell written!
ReplyDeleteThis article gives you a lot to think about.
A thoughtful and extensive trip down memory lane.
ReplyDeleteYou have chosen a fine person to explore the self-portrait need, my respect of Donald is far more than my words can direct. I now think of Donald as my chosen brother, he has been at my back for many of my crazy projects, I wouldn't have tried many of them with-out his help, and support. There are far too few persons the measure of Donald, I was damn lucky to have him as my dear friend.
ReplyDeleteWhat a fascinating discussion!
ReplyDelete👍 Yes Art is a Selp Portrait
ReplyDeleteThat should read "Self Portrait".
DeleteVery interesting article—and a great selection of photographs.
ReplyDeleteYou are what you eat and food comes in many perceptions.
ReplyDeleteMike, you're the greatest!
Delete