Hubby has a thing for self-portraiture. Since the camera is usually lying around within easy arm's reach he's discovered the fun of setting up still-lifes, taking quick candids of the kids and best of all snapping photos of himself in whatever goofy pose takes his fancy at the time.
He usually does this when I am not looking.
They often show some level of artistic inspiration, playing with light and shadow, exploring surfaces like glass.
This was one of the first ones in my photo files. I have seen something of an evolution. Also this is the only one of him smiling. He has something about smiling in pictures.
It must be something about looking tough.
Or maybe he's going for the mugshot look. Or maybe he wants pity because he looks so tired. (This one was right after Baby Bear came and we were both shot.)
Poor Honey, you look tired.
No, I don't. I look tough. Virile.
He's the artist. The scholar. The Warrior-poet.
Things like this just appear there in my photo files. Like magic. There they are.
And every time I see one I fall in love all over again.
All I can say is, don't mess with a man and his self-portraits.