What catches your eye? Throughout a day or a weekend, snap images of where your gaze settles: the irritating scuff on the white-painted stair riser heading up to your bedroom the dog’s wagging tale as its dream delights it the way the water pools on the barbecue lid in the rain. Write a description of yourself as if you were describing someone unknown to you. Head-on: Photograph yourself in a mirror. How she looks is interesting what she looks at is compelling. But to me, more intriguing are those that “show” her more obliquely: the contents of the handbag next to her shadow, the blurred larger image with the distant in-focus one reflected near her heart, the angles from which she chooses to observe others and those she allows into the frame with her. What does Maier show us? The details of her face, her haircut, her clothing and her photographic gear all come into focus in her most direct shots. In some shots, her shadow seemed almost a mistake or coincidence, as did her reflection, though the sly smilein one hints that perhaps the reflections and shadows are precisely the point of these images. Maier’s portraits ranged from the head-on mirror shot to the outlined shadow to a combination of the two. It tells us both how they view themselves, as well as how they perceive the world around them,” wrote John Maloof in the foreword to Vivian Maier Self-Portraits. “… self-portrait is a unique confession by an artist. When American street photographer Vivian Maier’s work was discovered after her death, her self-portraits proved especially compelling. And in this, visual artists have much to teach us. Why is it not equally permissible to portray yourself with your pen as he did with his brush?”īut a slimly pen-stroked “I” isn’t a portrait: We need to convey detail, texture, shadow. As James Hall explains in The Self-Portrait: A Cultural History, when Montaigne put pen to paper, he referenced those who had put brush to canvas, citing King René of Anjou: “I saw…King Francis II being presented with a self-portrait by King René as a souvenir of him. Conveying ourselves as characters on the page is tricky business, like expecting a butterfly to pin its own wings.