I have determined that there are four ways to obtain one’s image. And xeroxing one’s head is not one of them. First is the mirror. Without a doubt, the most accurate of the four. A dynamic full color, 3D, moving representation. Add the peripherals of sound and smell and you approach reality. Unfortunately.
I avail myself of this specter only twice a day. To brush my teeth and shave, and to adjust my tie. During my shower there is a sheet draped over the mirror.
Then there is the photo. Both still and moving. The results are far from gratifying. Poor lighting. Added pounds. Dopey expressions. All candid crap. Unless your on a first name basis with Annie Leibowitz, most of the photos of yourself are tucked away in the pocket at the back of the album.
Which brings us to the third image category. The rendered portrait. In oils. Acrylic. Encaustic. Crayon. Charcoal. It is here, through art, that one may capture the very soul of one’s being. And I submit just such a creation. Dixie’s painting. Of me. What can I say? She nailed it.
I am now in pursuit of a seven foot slab of carerra marble. To fulfill the ultimate image. The sculpture. And Michaelangelo proved it. It is here where you can make a guy look r-e-a-l good.