Why the faceless self-portraits?

Katie, a Great Unlearning podcast listener and blog fan from Chicago asks, “Why is your face not visible in most of your photos?”

Great question Katie. I’m not hiding, but it definitely serves the introvert in me. Leaving my face a mystery is a way I engage and connect with my viewing audience. That sounds kind of weird because the first place we look in a photograph is the face and eyes, searching for an emotion that typically sets the tone for the photograph. A sad face means a sad story and if someone is smiling, all is good. We also compare ourselves to other people’s faces and create instant judgments about who the person is and how fortunate or unfortunate their lives must be.

If my face were in all of my portraits, they would simply be photographs of me. But if my face isn’t shown, the photograph is more about the person looking at it.

I read somewhere that anonymity equals interpretation. So, in a faceless portrait, the viewer can fill in the blanks with their own interpretation of the story of the photograph.

I want my viewers to see other elements of the photograph that tell my stories, like my clothing, posture, the movement in my body and hair, the environment, the emotion in my hands, and with the symbolism I use in most photos.

I’ve anonymously hung out in galleries where my self-portraits have been featured and listened to what people had to say about them. My intent for a self-portrait can be completely different than the interpretation from a viewer. For instance, in the self-portrait titled Go Ask Your Mother, which accompanies a story in “The Great Unlearning” about being raped in an orchard at sixteen, was purchased by a woman because the image reminded her of the playfulness of her youth, she didn’t know the image was created for a story about rape.

Can you guess my intent for creating this faceless self-portrait?

To listen to me read the stories from my book, head over to my Podcast on Spotify.