Portraiture as a Living Record

Truly I tell you, that letting myself discern and learn more about the creative processes regarding self portraits ~ I am working how to see myself, and so it is that portraiture is teaching me how to see the world.

And so it is that I am diving deeper into the lives and histories of others.

That prayer I shared led me deep into the soul of portraiture.

If self portraits are a way of learning how to see myself truthfully, then portraiture is how I learn to see others with the same reverence. Each face, each figure held in charcoal, pastel, or paint reminds me that likeness alone is never the point.

What I am really reaching for is presence.

These are some of my favourite older portraiture pieces. I return to them often, not out of nostalgia, but because they hold something essential for my forward thinking. They remind me why I make art at all.

Portraiture, for me, is an act of preservation ~ personal, yes, but also cultural. It is a way of saying: you were here. Not abstractly. Not anonymously. But embodied, standing in a particular moment in time, carrying a role, a story, a weight.

A raised arm in celebration.

A stance shaped by discipline and endurance.

A posture learned through years of repetition and responsibility.

These details matter. They tell us not only who someone was, but how they stood in the world.

In capturing these moments, I am conscious that I am holding more than a face. I am holding status, season, and circumstance, the quiet language of a life lived. In this way, portraiture becomes a tangible thread, one that stretches across generations and invites us into relationship with those who came before us.

Art slows time enough for us to notice what history often rushes past.

And perhaps this is where these two practices meet self portrait and portrait alike. Both ask me to be attentive. Both require stillness. Both are, in their own way, an offering.

To see clearly is to honour.

To honour is to remember.

And to remember is to keep something alive.