Joan Cusack, Washington, D.C, 1986

All of us are gifted students of the human face. From infancy on, we learn to watch for clues from our mothers, doctors, and teachers, from our friends, lovers, and strangers. We look at each other’s faces for evidence of love, patience, anger, fear, understanding—indeed the whole range of human emotion.

So, what is a portrait? Who is it really of? Does it tell the truth?

One summer day, I found myself staring at someone illuminated by strong sunlight. She seemed to be flowering before my eyes. That was the moment I began making portraits of people. I wanted to see the way our skin covers our bones, how it shines or is dappled, its creases and its marks, and in all its varied hues. There on Cape Cod, in the intense blueness of sea and sky, I suddenly saw the flamboyant and extraordinary qualities of redheads.