Breaking the Portrait: On Decontextualization in the Alternate Sides Project
Breaking the Portrait: On Decontextualization in the Alternate Sides Project
One of the central ideas I explore in this project is decontextualization. I’m speaking to how, as children, we learn to label things and call them by name. Before this stage, we encounter the world with wonder, fully experiencing things in all their sensory aspects. Once we learn to label, we create a summary or immediate reference point in our minds. We place that thing “into a box,” no longer holding it as something wondrous and experiential.
In pieces from the Alternate Sides project, some were originally rendered as one whole, singular portrait. But when rearranged, common reference points of facial anatomy lose their context and become fragmented. This “recontextualizes” them, ultimately placing the viewer in the position of really thinking about what they’re looking at.
It dispels the illusion of a portrait. Now— Is it a series of painted blocks? Is it layers of color reflecting light in different ways? Can you still experience the essence of the person without the visual unification of a face?
What are the essential parts of the image that remain? What can be removed while still communicating the subject’s spirit?
This branch of psychology and perspective within the project is vastly different from the works that contain a series of separate images rather than fragments of a single one. The constant through them all is the vehicle in which the images are delivered: paint, blocks, modularity, interactivity, change. But this is a very different direction than the original concept.
A Seed Planted in 2015
Many years ago, in 2015, while I was still working in tattoos and illustrative portraits, I was searching for a way to transition into fine art — especially on a conceptual level. At a tattoo convention in NYC, I came across a gallery kiosk showing works from various fine artists, and I was excited to see a painting by one of my favorites.
I struck up a conversation with the gallery representative. I was in full self-promotion mode, showing some of my illustrative portraits. I could tell from their energy that they were underwhelmed. Realizing this, I asked what the distance was between what I was doing and what the artists in the gallery were doing.
I don’t remember their exact words, but they said something about conceptual work and “deconstruction” — referencing how those artists were deconstructing the image. That single word, deconstruction, echoed in my mind. It planted a seed that I didn’t fully understand then, but years later it would surface again, becoming central to my own work.
The CHOP SHOP Exchange
During a CHOP SHOP session, I presented a self-portrait arranged in a deconstructed state. One member said the fragmentation was bothering them and asked:
“Is there a way to piece it back together, like a puzzle, to form the complete image?”
Their reaction made me realize that, for many viewers — especially those unfamiliar with the project’s direction — the first impulse might be to restore wholeness. I explained that while the work can be shown as a unified whole at times, it is more often presented fragmented, inviting the viewer to engage with the unfamiliar.
Another member offered an affirmation that stayed with me:
“I love this so much... you’re liberating the potential subjects of any work that you’re creating from the bounds of fixity. I love that it can expand, collapse, and be interactive.”
That encouragement pushed me further toward embracing decontextualization as a core driver of the work. Later, when I posted different iterations of my mother’s portrait on Instagram, they followed up with feedback, praising the versions farthest from the unified whole.
These exchanges deepened my understanding that the work isn’t just about rearranging blocks; it’s about the viewer’s psychological journey between comfort and disruption.
I believe that the more an image is decontextualized, the more the viewer is forced to reckon with what they’re seeing. Noses are turned upside down, a cheek becomes a panel of layered colors, eyes are no longer placed where they “should” be — perhaps turned on their sides and placed on opposite ends. A chin might now sit where a forehead once was, elevated in the hierarchy of parts.