1.
As you can discern by the lines about his mouth, the wispy clouds of his eyes, Sean is a disappointed person (and often suffering effects of drink). Hours before taking this photo I viewed two Bresson films, so placed Sean downtown, with the skyscrapers looming over his slumped shoulders. Their minimalist angles and modern glass are meant to represent the unflinching progress of The World after both Sean and I are gone. The shadow of the large bird a lucky accident.
2.
Here Sean refused to pose at all, having just heard some distressing news from his first ex-wife: something about his son and a foreclosure on a property. When I arrived at his small apartment, he was already drinking, in one of his "hyper" moods, actually shoving me against a wall and breaking an expensive light meter. (He would later replace this equipment.) Sean told me that nothing of life held any meaning, and that art, in all its forms, was a disgusting folly. As you can see, his eyes are tightly shut.
3.
That green shirt makes Sean feel young and powerful. Like some talisman. He brags of the young women he has seduced at restaurants and night establishments while wearing the shirt, all of his sexual exploits. He claims its potency derives from the figures fencing on the front; that you rarely see that type of image anymore. I believe that shirt is made of sadness. Obvious to all-except for Sean-it is past time to cast the thing away.
4.
The light in his bedroom is low and sickly. Really useless for photographic purposes, so here I took Sean outside. What a surprise to see him climb a tree! To drink in the air and warm sun. It had been a long while, a long, long time for an action so spontaneous for Sean, laughing and free, and I will admit seeing this today makes me smile.
5.
This photo is most likely illegal, so I am relying on personal discretion. I place my trust in you now.
6.
Sean sits cross-legged, in a swimsuit, in the snow, and, I agree the image is forced. From a technical perspective, this should have never made the cut, but I keep this out of a sense of odd nostalgia. Later that very evening, while bathing in the shower, I would note a lump on my right testicle. The first act of a long, strange drama, but I am sitting here now, am I not? Besides, the world needs a bit of silliness, the only logical response to its indifferent horror. The plastic wheelbarrow is not meant as device. It is simply Sean's wheelbarrow.
7.
The tone and mood of the entire grocery store was one of commerce, cynical and oppressive. Roll after roll of wasted film. Posing with the meats, the mounds of fruits and vegetables, the garish rows of soda. After hours of this, Sean declared himself ravenous. The curses he flung at me while pacing the aisles! Finally, he purchased a blueberry pie, snatched up a plastic spoon, and marched outside the store to sit in the busy entranceway and consume the entire pie. What a bizarre sight; and, obviously, a most excellent opportunity for my camera. In this profession I have learned only this: You cannot predict the human being.
8.
I have no recollection of taking this photo. It is not even in my style. Honestly, you baffle me with this line of questioning.
9.
Sometimes there is nothing you can do or say. Here, Sean attempts to provide all, to control the situation. Note the ridiculous posturing, and the hat. Sean desires the image to develop with the exact intent of the subject, not the artist. When he takes this grandiose mood, I cut short the session. Look at the results. Clearly the most dishonest of the lot.
10.
To manipulate a small animal, or a child, in that manner is the very style of photography I now despise. I do recognize the yard and the apple tree. The dachshund Sean is holding was named Jone. She was a good dog and truly photogenic. People always say they are; that dog was. Now you make me think of that lovely animal, and the boy there. Looking up at Sean. This was one of our earliest meetings, before I got to know the subject, and Sean was gone.