garrison beau scott

Every author, however modest, keeps a most outrageous vanity chained like a madman in the padded cell of his breast. ~Logan Pearsall Smith

Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter, wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others who are within his sphere of action: and therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life. ~Benjamin Franklin

Vanity dies hard; in some obstinate cases it outlives the man. ~Robert Louis Stevenson

When it came time for me to graduate Brooks, and hang the grad show, we were asked to include a portrait of ourselves. Through various assignments and other projects, I had taken a bunch of self-portraits, and could have easily done so again, but I wanted something different. I wanted something that had nothing to do with my pre-concieved ideas of self-representation.

Obviously, there was no shortage of amazing photographers that I’d be able to enlist to aid me in the task of committing my mug to film, but as soon as I began to make a list, I stopped with the first name that came to me.

Jason Madara.

There’s a great bit of story that goes with the shot, but that’ll have to be told another time. Suffice to say, my expression was at the center of it, and masterfully conjured up by Jason as a part of his process. I told him I didn’t even want to see a proof sheet, just pick out the one he liked best, and this is what he chose.

The expression also became a running joke of sorts among my friends, with a variety of Polaroids and other shots being created as an homage to this. I’ll post those one of these days.

To this day, Jason’s portrait of me remains one of my favorites. And like I said, there would have been plenty who could have done a great job of it, but where Jason made a difference that I think no one could have equaled, is it’s more than a shot of me, it’s a defining moment of my life.

Virtue would not go to such lengths if vanity did not keep her company. ~François de la Rochefoucauld

While at school, we got a ton of assignments where we had to photograph people. A lot of the time, especially in lower division, students would ask each other to pose. For a variety of reasons this made sense: fellow students worked cheap, they were always at school and could be snatched out of the hallway, after you posed for their shots they owed you, and it was always more fun to work with your friends.

For one reason or another I got asked quite a bit to pose. Ego would have me believe it was because I’ve always belonged on the cover of GQ, but I’m pretty sure that it was because of my hair. At the time it was down to my waist and depending on the duration of time between brushings, almost full-blown dread. When let loose from the pony-tail I kept it in I swear it had a mind, and personality, of its own. And so, enter Leslie Stansfield.

Leslie was an adorable southern-belle, complete with accent. Cute as all get out, and one of the sweetest beings the lord put on this earth. So when she asked me to pose for a shot she had in mind, I of course jumped at the chance. Little did I know that I’d be doing a lot of jumping, because even though the hair could carry on a conversation, for it to really express itself, I had to be moving. So Leslie set up her shot and had me jump, and jump, and jump. The pictures of me from this session remain some of my very favorites, and just looking at them again for this post brings back a lot of memories, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll grow it all back.