In the winter of 2001, in her last semester of high school, I took my older daughter Sarah to Vienna. We attended a grand ball in the former palace of the Austro-Hungarian emperors (Hofburg) on the night of February 24. The next day, at 8:30 a.m., we left our hotel, the Kaiserin Elisabeth located at 3 Weihburgasse. The light snow from the day before was still fresh, as were memories of the ball we had attended the night before, which we talked about as we walked. Thus engaged, we passed down the Kartnerstraße, took a right on the Fürichgasse and up the Augustinerstraße to the Michaelerplatz. Then through the Michaelertor into the Old Hofburg. To the left appeared the Schweizertor, or Swiss Gate, with the arms and all the princely titles of Kaiser Ferdinand I high above. The gate was built in 1552, and took its name from the Swiss Guards who were garrisoned within during the 18th century. We passed through its arch and paused, then crossed the Schweizerhof beyond, thence to the chapel of the Vienna court, the Hofmusikkappelle, where we heard the Vienna Boys Choir sing the morning's mass.

A portrait can be indirect. We tend to think of a portrait as a depiction of the person. However, a portrait can also be-like this one-a collection of objects that recall or evoke the person. This is my own self-portrait. The letters allude to my travels and my somewhat old-fashioned propensity to write and (sometimes receive) letters in an age of cell phones and emails. Other allusions are to my interest in art (postcards), my craft (tubes of paint), my family life (my wife Anne's old driver's license), smoking (a box of matches), and coffee (an Au Bon Pain cup). No sittings are required; the subject need not even be alive.