Paul Haviland 1914

This gelatin silver print captures Paul Haviland in a moment of poised contemplation. His arms are crossed, a cigarette dangles from his fingers, and his gaze meets ours with directness. The gesture of crossed arms is ancient, isn't it? We see it in funerary sculptures, a symbol of closure or protection. Yet, here, it seems less a shield than a subtle challenge. Consider the cigarette: a modern emblem of sophistication, yet also a fleeting, ephemeral pleasure, like the vanitas of a Dutch still life. Think back to classical antiquity, the figures in togas with carefully arranged drapery – there’s a lineage here. This photograph isn’t just a portrait, it's a carefully constructed presentation of self. These symbols are not static, they resonate across time, shaped by cultural memory and individual expression, constantly reappearing in the human psyche.