Still Lives: Stories in Profile documents the rarely seen side view of a person capturing the moment when a personality and a story emerge in its simplest form. There’s a distinct dignity, as well as a mystery, that I try to bring to my subjects through light, texture, gestures, and expressions.
The series began when I spotted Paul, a young songwriter and lead singer, working behind a counter at a local restaurant and market in Belfast, where I live. I was taken with the character of his face, his wild hairstyle and strong features. He accepted my invitation to sit for me. Seeing Paul in profile comfortably perched on a stool, his face softened by the shadowless, overcast late-day light coming through the window, I knew I was onto something. Soon I had recruited a dozen of other willing, or simply curious, subjects.
Tentatively I titled the new series FaceScapes. In my mind this conjured up dramatic mountain vistas with their irregular profiles: rounded or sharp edges with one-of-a-kind peaks and plateaus. This analogy gave me the incentive to scout for models with a wide range of faces. Even now I continue to search for my human subjects at local venues and through friends. The only requirement I ask is that each participant wear black: against a black backdrop the face takes center stage, the background falls away. Seated seven feet from my camera, the sitters listen to my instructions to sit tall, turn to their right, and stare at a chosen point in the distance. In small increments they tweak their heads left or right, up or down. Then they stay as still as possible while I try to record what I call a “true” profile, ninety degrees from the camera. In the first photo of Paul, his head was turned just a fraction too much revealing some of his right eye. At the time I didn’t realize this was not an exact profile. Interestingly, because the right half of the brain controls the left and is responsible for communication, most subjects turn a bit to the right, making them appear more expressive and emotionally engaging.
I have always turned my subjects in that direction simply because that is where my light source is. The natural light has an unpredictability that is energizing and keeps me alert and focused. Only the subject’s head and shoulders fill each frame, adding emphasis and visual weight to the most important parts of the photographs. Each photo session is an adventure in discovery as I set out to capture the moment when my subject’s inner self emerges, direct and stunning.
All my portraits since 2017 are greatly influenced by seventeenth-century Dutch portrait painters, for their quality of light and preciseness, and by Italian artists from the early Renaissance, for their simplicity and playfulness. A fine example of the latter would be Piero Della Francesca’s famed Diptych of Federico da Montefeltro and his wife Battista Sforza, also known as the Duke and Duchess of Urbino. Inspired by the design of ancient and medieval coins, the two figures are shown in profile facing each other. Early profiles depicted on these coins fascinate me. The subjects have a timeless quality and could be from any era. A face from 500 BCE could easily resemble a face from the present. Throughout history, these renderings of the human form were not just representations but also had political, religious, economic, and symbolic significance.
It was only after I began photographing the profile portraits that I dug deeper and began researching the history of coinage and its lasting impact on art and design. What I found motivated me to continue with my project. One of the most famous examples of Greek coinage dates to 335 BCE and portrays Alexander the Great. Other likenesses of kings and rulers followed. Around 44 BCE, Julius Caesar was the first Roman to put his profile on a coin. Starting in the Italian Renaissance, commemorative portrait medals celebrated figures, who were usually represented in profile. The first person on an American coin was Abraham Lincoln and was minted in 1909 to celebrate the centenary of the president’s birth. In the mid-eighteenth century, silhouettes became popular. French Minister of Finance Étienne de Silhouette, disliked at the time because of his frugal policies, had a hobby of making shadow portraits using cut black paper. These were very affordable. Eventually the phrase “à la Silhouette” came to mean “on the cheap.”
Through the years, my title evolved from FaceScapes to Still Lives: Stories in Profile because each profile reflects a quiet and simple beauty and the uniquely accumulated experiences of each individual. Profiles illuminate a person’s strengths, courage, and vulnerabilities. As my subject sits in a meditative pose, the absence of eye-to-eye contact leaves the mind free to wander and observe. The topography of a face in profile fascinates and challenges me. I find these facial depictions to be elegant and mysterious, at once simplifying and yet strengthening. While shooting, I think “design, form, light, negative space,” as I seek to capture a personality distilled to its strongest form.
Rarely do we look at others or ourselves from this side view. The reaction of my subjects to seeing their profiles is enlightening. As if looking into a mirror for the first time, the photographic image elicits a range of emotions and reveals the layers of the subject’s inner self on a deeper level. To the observers of the finished work, each face becomes a study of human evolution and wonder as their own stories take shape.
After viewing a few of Karlin’s profile portraits, one starts to notice variations to the formula: a slight lift of the chin, a smile, on a few occasions, the turn of the chest towards the viewer, and even more rarely, a gesture or an accessory—glasses, hat, bowtie, details that reveal the sitter’s personality. This is particularly remarkable given the fact that a profile portrait is distinguished by the fact that it doesn’t allow interaction between sitter and viewer. And yet, because Karlin’s sitters don’t interact with the photographer (and therefore with us, the viewer), their personality seems further revealed: they all seem lost in their thoughts.
—Véronique Plesch, Professor of Art and Chair, Department of Art, Colby College, Waterville, Maine; Editor, Maine Arts Journal.
Image at top: Lynn Karlin, Dieter, digital photograph.