Dear friends,

I have made countless self-portraits over the years—drawings, block prints, paintings. In this, I follow a lineage I admire deeply: Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Frida Kahlo, and Howard Finster. Each of them stood before the mirror and took a long, unflinching look at themselves. That takes courage.

Joe Dispenza often reminds us that where we put our attention is where we send our power. If this is true, perhaps these artists were not only observing themselves, but empowering themselves in the very act of painting their own image.

I know this has been true for me. When I face the mirror, I ask: Am I still on track? Am I following the arc of my own story, or have I drifted into old programs from my youth?

This unblinking gaze was what enabled Frida to alchemize her relentless pain into art; what drew Rembrandt deeper into the magical chiaroscuro of his shadows; what kept Vincent working in obscurity, ignored by the art world of his time. It even lifted Howard from being a dirt-poor Baptist preacher to standing on the stage of The David Letterman Show.

I’m always a little surprised when someone purchases one of my self-portraits. They feel so personal—more like a journal entry than a public statement. But perhaps that is their charm. They are raw, terrifyingly personal, and therefore alive in a way other pieces never can be.

Maybe that’s why people choose to live with them—because in the end, the courage to see oneself clearly is something we all long for.Joe Dispenza often reminds us that where we put our attention is where we send our power. If this is true, perhaps these artists were not only observing themselves, but empowering themselves in the very act of painting their own image.

Letters From Paris: On Self Portraits