Among the Pages

A certain imbalance reached into March with volatile weather, like a lion, of course, which led me to two very different books for grounding. Having been a fan of his work for decades, I checked out William Eggleston’s impressive book of portraits. Then, coincidentally, a co-worker highly recommended a book she was returning. The book’s cover illustration and title were intriguing enough.

My Father the Pornographer: A Memoir by Chris Offutt
William Eggleston Portraits by Phillip Prodger & an appreciation by Sophia Coppola

While studying Eggleston’s composition and use of color and reading Offutt’s snappy chapters alternately, a common thread emerged—an exploration of how we know and don’t know people, no matter their proximity. Appearance is just that; it rarely yields a reliable knowing, but it offers a strong character of suggestion and nuance. A good-read pairing, I say.