As this man paused to wearily massage his face, I made a portrait of him that speaks of a long and perhaps difficult life. He was watching a domino game at a park in the middle of Little Havana, a community of Cuban exiles, as well as immigrants from several Central American countries. I know nothing of this man’s own story. I leave that to the imagination of the viewer. I made this portrait of him from a distance at a 200mm telephoto focal length. I was drawn to the wonderful play of reflected sunlight that illuminated his face and his meticulously combed hair. He stands before a vividly colored canvas awning that brings shade to the players. The red, green and yellow stripes on this awning were so visually striking that they competed with the contemplative nature of the portrait. By converting the image to black and white, I was able to place my emphasis on the man, rather than on the setting. One eye is open, the other shut. The furrows in his forehead conform to the pressure of his fingers upon his face. He has no doubt seen much of life, and has come to watch the competition and socialize with his friends. Yet at this moment, he seems far away from it all.

I found this man standing before a carved wall of Luxor’s Habu Temple, which is also known as the Mortuary Temple of Ramesses III. Its inscribed reliefs depict the triumphs of his reign as Egypt’s Pharaoh from 1186 to 1155 BC. The carving in this image probably tells a small part of that story, while the Bedouin tribesman standing in front of it speaks to us of both past and present. The Bedouins are a desert dwelling Arab ethnic group, divided into many clans or tribes. Large numbers of Bedouins throughout the Middle East have left the traditional nomadic life to become settled citizens of various nations, rather than stateless nomadic herders. I do not know which tribe this man in this environmental portrait belongs to. He wears a white turban, a purple cloak, and carries a staff. He seems to come from another time, just as the carving behind him. Yet he is also most likely an Egyptian, and as such, the temple he stands in here can be seen as part of his own heritage.

This man face expresses significant character – he seems to have lived a hard life. His hands, blackened with shoe polish, speak of his occupation. I did not need to show him shining someone’s shoes. He looks away, as if he is wishing he could be somewhere else at this moment. Yet his resting hands are poised upon his equipment bag, ready to resume work at a moment’s notice.

This woman was sweeping the entrance to the shop in which she works. She stopped for a moment to lean on her broom and reflect on some aspect of her life. In looking at her expression, I think she is about as far away as she can get from her broom without putting it down. It is a portrait that does what an expressive portrait should do – not just show what a person looks like, but also rather define something about whom they are.

I made this portrait as this cashier turned away from her computer for a moment to catch the window light. Her illuminated profile repeats the glowing light on the pillar at right. The image tells us she is on the job, yet her mind is definitely elsewhere at this moment.

A stack of menus in hand, a restaurant barker pauses for a moment to look my camera in the eye. I come away with a portrait that reflects the tedium of repetitive work. The barker must convince tourists strolling Durango’s sidewalks to eat here, but at this moment in time there seems to be nobody to convince. We are left with an insight into the frustrating nature of salesmanship.