Today is my brother’s birthday. He died in 2004 after living 49 years with muscular dystrophy.
I made this portrait of him in 1973 when he was 18. In my memory of him, this photo sums up his worldview: This is who I am, and if it makes you uncomfortable, fuck off.
He told do-gooders to “fuck off” when they tried to hand him money when they thought he was on a street corner begging for it (he was just waiting for a ride).
He told servers to “fuck off” when they assumed he was deaf, dumb, or both when they would ask, “And what does he want?”
Ultimately, he told everyone to “fuck off” when he had a stroke and refused to be force-fed. After a brief stay in the hospital, he went home with my parents, where he died a few days later.
I wrote about him in 2020 during the early stages of the pandemic. You can read it HERE.
Sadly, I only discovered this image recently in my box ‘o negs. Nevertheless, I’m glad to make it part of the family album.