"There’s been a lot of talk about selfies recently. The Oxford Dictionaries named “selfie” the word of the year for 2013, and “Museum Selfie Day,” last month, encouraged museumgoers to take creative selfies in front of art. But what distinguishes a selfie from an artist’s self-portrait? A smartphone and a Tinder account is the easy answer, but, in general, we ask more from a self-portrait than we do from a selfie: more consideration, more composition, more psychological insight and aesthetic care. From family photographs to annual staged series and quirky snaps captured in a street windows, here is a selection of my favorite self-portraits..."
Deana Lawson, “Self-Portrait” (2012)
LAWSON: At least once a year, I make a self-portrait. It’s an occasion for the artist to construct her representation through her own medium, be it a camera or a paintbrush or what have you. It’s an opportunity to declare who you are visually and who you aspire to be. A selfie is a smaller branch of self-portraiture—quick and less considered. A self-portrait considers the interiority of the artist; it’s a moment for self-reflection, to pause and to look at yourself.
LAWSON: At least once a year, I make a self-portrait. It’s an occasion for the artist to construct her representation through her own medium, be it a camera or a paintbrush or what have you. It’s an opportunity to declare who you are visually and who you aspire to be. A selfie is a smaller branch of self-portraiture—quick and less considered. A self-portrait considers the interiority of the artist; it’s a moment for self-reflection, to pause and to look at yourself.
Youssef Nabil, “Funfair, Self-Portrait, Paris” (2005), courtesy of the Nathalie Obadia Gallery, Paris/Brussels
NABIL: When I left Egypt in 2003 I felt that I died. Everything had changed around me, and I was trying to start my life again, in a new place with new people. I went back to Cairo a year later, and everyone had got used to living without me; it was almost like I was a ghost, coming from the past. Then I left again. When I started to have this feeling, I began taking my self-portraits—me as a visitor everywhere I go. It is the same relation I have with my life. For me, living is about coming to a place that is not yours, then having to leave.
NABIL: When I left Egypt in 2003 I felt that I died. Everything had changed around me, and I was trying to start my life again, in a new place with new people. I went back to Cairo a year later, and everyone had got used to living without me; it was almost like I was a ghost, coming from the past. Then I left again. When I started to have this feeling, I began taking my self-portraits—me as a visitor everywhere I go. It is the same relation I have with my life. For me, living is about coming to a place that is not yours, then having to leave.
Jun Ahn, “Self-Portrait” (2008)/Courtesy Christophe Guye Galerie, Zürich
AUN: This image was taken at the apartment where I lived for about six years, while I was in graduate school for photography, in New York. I consider the elimination of context the most fascinating aspect of a photographic image. For me, photography is the reality and the fantasy, the truth and the fiction, all at the same time. What I wish to discover through photography is the invisible moment, the invisible structure, and hidden beauty of a world that only can be seen with the camera.
AUN: This image was taken at the apartment where I lived for about six years, while I was in graduate school for photography, in New York. I consider the elimination of context the most fascinating aspect of a photographic image. For me, photography is the reality and the fantasy, the truth and the fiction, all at the same time. What I wish to discover through photography is the invisible moment, the invisible structure, and hidden beauty of a world that only can be seen with the camera.
Robert Mapplethorpe, “Self-Portrait” (l975), © Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation, courtesy of the Sean Kelly Gallery, New York
SEAN KELLY (owner of the Sean Kelly Gallery): While Robert Mapplethorpe produced relatively few self-portraits in his tragically short career, what unites them—from the innocent vitality of this image to his last self-portrait, when he was dying of AIDS—is a searing honesty. Robert’s self portraits are direct, and they engage the viewer in a very powerful manner. He photographed himself in a number of different guises, expressing many different facets of his life and preoccupations, but in the end it is the fearlessness of his gaze, as he stares out at us, that transcends time and categorization.
SEAN KELLY (owner of the Sean Kelly Gallery): While Robert Mapplethorpe produced relatively few self-portraits in his tragically short career, what unites them—from the innocent vitality of this image to his last self-portrait, when he was dying of AIDS—is a searing honesty. Robert’s self portraits are direct, and they engage the viewer in a very powerful manner. He photographed himself in a number of different guises, expressing many different facets of his life and preoccupations, but in the end it is the fearlessness of his gaze, as he stares out at us, that transcends time and categorization.
John Arsenault, “Italian Stallion” (2000), courtesy of ClampArt, New York.
ARSENAULT: My work is a visual diary, and I’ve been capturing self-portraits for the past twenty years. I discover an environment and figure out a way to place myself in it. Sometimes, the process is quick and spontaneous, like “Italian Stallion,” which was taken in Tuscany, Italy. My shadow splayed across the lying figure creates my self-portrait. My work is a time line of my life. It’s an ongoing process, and I like to think of it as one continuous body of work. When I’m capturing a self-portrait, I’m exploring facets of my personal relationships, my sexuality, and my identity (often poking fun at myself).
ARSENAULT: My work is a visual diary, and I’ve been capturing self-portraits for the past twenty years. I discover an environment and figure out a way to place myself in it. Sometimes, the process is quick and spontaneous, like “Italian Stallion,” which was taken in Tuscany, Italy. My shadow splayed across the lying figure creates my self-portrait. My work is a time line of my life. It’s an ongoing process, and I like to think of it as one continuous body of work. When I’m capturing a self-portrait, I’m exploring facets of my personal relationships, my sexuality, and my identity (often poking fun at myself).
Danny Lyon, “Self-Portrait, New York City” (1969), © Magnum Photos, courtesy of the Whitney Museum, New York and Edwynn Houk Gallery, New York and Zürich
LYON: It is not actually possible for me to photograph myself, as empathy, the quality that drives my work, can only be felt with another human, not with myself. This is a true document and an accident, to boot, as no one is looking through the viewfinder. The only real thing in it is my shoulder and the back of my face, which, again, is by accident, caught directly in front of the lens, creating a foreground, and the strange bathroom, decorated with children’s decals. A work of narcissism, a record of the person I was pretending to be forty-three years ago, and here taken out of context, as it was originally published, against a portrait of someone making love in a mirror.
LYON: It is not actually possible for me to photograph myself, as empathy, the quality that drives my work, can only be felt with another human, not with myself. This is a true document and an accident, to boot, as no one is looking through the viewfinder. The only real thing in it is my shoulder and the back of my face, which, again, is by accident, caught directly in front of the lens, creating a foreground, and the strange bathroom, decorated with children’s decals. A work of narcissism, a record of the person I was pretending to be forty-three years ago, and here taken out of context, as it was originally published, against a portrait of someone making love in a mirror.
Tarek Al Ghoussein, “Untitled 2” (2003) from the series “Self-Portrait,” courtesy Taymour Grahne Gallery.
AL GHOUSSEIN: This image was made along the Dead Sea in Jordan. It was the first time I ever saw Palestine. The “Self-Portrait” series is a commentary on contemporary Western-media representations of the Palestinian as terrorist. This project started as a result of my growing frustration with the way in which the Palestinians and other Arabs were being (mis)represented in the Western media. I choose locations in much the same way a film director does; I move between abstraction and the specific circumstances found in particular places.
AL GHOUSSEIN: This image was made along the Dead Sea in Jordan. It was the first time I ever saw Palestine. The “Self-Portrait” series is a commentary on contemporary Western-media representations of the Palestinian as terrorist. This project started as a result of my growing frustration with the way in which the Palestinians and other Arabs were being (mis)represented in the Western media. I choose locations in much the same way a film director does; I move between abstraction and the specific circumstances found in particular places.
Alec Soth, From the series “Broken Manual” (2009), courtesy of Sean Kelly, New York
SOTH: I’ve never been comfortable photographing people I know, myself included. I guess I prefer the mystery of strangers. Nevertheless, while working on a project about the desire to run away from society, I felt compelled to make a self-portrait. But, afterward, I felt equally compelled to destroy this image. After pixellating my face, I took a poster-size printout to a gun range and shot at it with a .45. I’ve recently coined a term for this kind of picture on Instagram: I call it the “unselfie.”
SOTH: I’ve never been comfortable photographing people I know, myself included. I guess I prefer the mystery of strangers. Nevertheless, while working on a project about the desire to run away from society, I felt compelled to make a self-portrait. But, afterward, I felt equally compelled to destroy this image. After pixellating my face, I took a poster-size printout to a gun range and shot at it with a .45. I’ve recently coined a term for this kind of picture on Instagram: I call it the “unselfie.”
Carrie Mae Weems, “Untitled (DIA Foundation)” (2005), courtesy of Jack Shainman Gallery, New York
WEEMS: In 2005, I was commissioned to produce a body of work in Beacon, New York, a city along the Hudson which at the time was in the throes of profound social and economic change. My project was a three-year-long project called “The Record Shop,” where I opened a record store and invited both long-time residents of Beacon and new arrivals to record their history or their sense of place. I also made photographs of every building along the main street of Beacon each year for three years, to document the changes that were taking place in the city. This particular photograph was made at Dia Beacon just after its opening. While I am the subject in the photograph, it is not a self-portrait. My body is a stand-in for every body.
WEEMS: In 2005, I was commissioned to produce a body of work in Beacon, New York, a city along the Hudson which at the time was in the throes of profound social and economic change. My project was a three-year-long project called “The Record Shop,” where I opened a record store and invited both long-time residents of Beacon and new arrivals to record their history or their sense of place. I also made photographs of every building along the main street of Beacon each year for three years, to document the changes that were taking place in the city. This particular photograph was made at Dia Beacon just after its opening. While I am the subject in the photograph, it is not a self-portrait. My body is a stand-in for every body.
Alex Wein, “King and Queen’s Seat, Rocks, Maryland” (2012)
WEIN: This photograph is from an ongoing series of images titled “Headstands,” which began in 2011, when I drove from San Francisco to Baltimore. The most challenging part of making this work was performing in front of the lens while directing from behind it. With a new project comes a new approach to making an image. For this project, my primary focus was the land, and then I would figure out where I would place myself into the composition. Unlike taking a portrait with the goal of capturing an identity,” Headstands” is a more simplified concept, which uses humor and adventure with a precarious nature.
WEIN: This photograph is from an ongoing series of images titled “Headstands,” which began in 2011, when I drove from San Francisco to Baltimore. The most challenging part of making this work was performing in front of the lens while directing from behind it. With a new project comes a new approach to making an image. For this project, my primary focus was the land, and then I would figure out where I would place myself into the composition. Unlike taking a portrait with the goal of capturing an identity,” Headstands” is a more simplified concept, which uses humor and adventure with a precarious nature.
Jen Davis, “Untitled No. 40” (2011), courtesy of Lee Marks Fine Art, IN and ClampArt, New York
DAVIS: “Untitled No. 40” is part of an ongoing series of self-portraits. Through the act of photographing, I invite the viewer into the past eleven years of my private life, exploring the vulnerabilities that I carry, associated with a lifelong struggle with my body, feelings of isolation, the battle to recognize beauty, a quest for intimacy, and sense of acceptance. As I photograph myself, it helps me to think of the camera as a third party, creating a physical distance between the camera and myself, and an emotional distance between myself and the person being photographed. I was creating a character whom I didn’t necessarily know.
DAVIS: “Untitled No. 40” is part of an ongoing series of self-portraits. Through the act of photographing, I invite the viewer into the past eleven years of my private life, exploring the vulnerabilities that I carry, associated with a lifelong struggle with my body, feelings of isolation, the battle to recognize beauty, a quest for intimacy, and sense of acceptance. As I photograph myself, it helps me to think of the camera as a third party, creating a physical distance between the camera and myself, and an emotional distance between myself and the person being photographed. I was creating a character whom I didn’t necessarily know.
Pieter Hugo, “Pieter and Sophia Hugo at Home in Cape Town” (2010), from the series “Kin,” courtesy of Yossi Milo Gallery, New York, and and Stevenson, Johannesburg and Cape Town
HUGO: I approach photographing myself in a very similar fashion to how I approach photographing someone else. I am looking for the same agency and energy in a self-portrait that I would expect from a “normal” one. I want the subject to hold the viewer and to demand their attention. All portraits are, in some way, self-portraits
HUGO: I approach photographing myself in a very similar fashion to how I approach photographing someone else. I am looking for the same agency and energy in a self-portrait that I would expect from a “normal” one. I want the subject to hold the viewer and to demand their attention. All portraits are, in some way, self-portraits