ian’s first new york show. chelsea. barry friedman.
a few hours before my husband’s art opening, ian and i got to spend a half hour alone with all of his self portraits. each piece of ian’s leaves his studio once it is finished so we had never before seen all of his pieces in conversation with each other. strolling through the gallery felt like walking through ian’s memoir. the past 2 and a half years of our lives are written on those faces. our move to texas, our marriage, my pregnancy, the birth of koruna….
for a few dreamy moments, it was just me and all of the ians. and i was spellbound. reluctant to leave, i turned my gaze toward the present ian, the flesh and blood ian. i took his hand and we stepped from our reverie back out on to the new york city street. and now we move on….