In my Room

Self portrait from June.

I always have conflicting feelings about taking and posting pictures of myself. Ultimately I really don’t believe I’m all that impressive of a specimen to put it nicely. This attitude I have offends my wife, and probably for good reason, as it implies poor taste on her part. This could be the reality though and I’m willing to accept this. I could be a charlatan for all she knows, but I doubt I’m that clever or sinister. Odds are I fall into a similar psychological camp as the majority of people. The camp of feeling unjustly inadequate in comparison to the ideals of beauty. Feelings are generally misleading though when interpreted literally. It’s probably why this camp is so damn crowded.

Being an artist who works with nudity I see sentiments of inferiority a lot. In fact it’s the majority of the time. As many who try to overcome negativity know, the only way to overcome fear is to face it. It’s why a lot of people end up in photos in this respect. I suppose that I’m not really any different. The struggle to be comfortable with ones existence is universal.

When I take a photo of someone it’s easy for me to see they should be proud of themselves. When you’re the subject it’s a mental exercise. This is why I force myself to do it.

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