My grandmother, Jane Shoemaker Read, was an extraordinarily attractive woman, and was both proud and conscious of her good looks. She died in 2004 at the age of 98. (When someone said to her, "You'll live forever," she replied "I already have!") I thought it would be nice to do a painting of her from a favorite photograph I had. I painted it, and sent it to her. It was returned several weeks later, with the comment, "I can't bear to look at it." It evidently did not live up to her vision of herself. Good training for a commercial portrait painter!

My daughters were 10 and 6 when they finally assented to let me paint their portrait. That meant they were only willing for me to take their photograph, from which I was allowed to paint a picture. You can always tell a painting that was done from a photograph: the tip of the nose is the brightest point on the face, because it is closest to the flash. This painting betrays its photographic origins.

Bella Littlefield was 4 years old when she sat for me, in an elaborate lace dress and holding one of her favorite books. She was a bit self conscious, as children often are in situations that are new and-to their minds-grown up. Bella's seriousness and attire give the picture an air of formality and dignity, which her parents found pleasing-and perhaps a refreshing contrast to what they know from day to day!

This is the same girl who I painted in 1993. She now 18, both more confident and self conscious than she was at 6. More beautiful and thoughtful, too. Portraits of children memorialize the transitions of their passage from childhood to adulthood.

John is a physician specializing in addiction psychiatry and is affiliated with Dana-Farber and Brigham & Women's Hospitals. John went to medical school at Columbia and did his internship in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where I grew up and went to school myself. On top of the papers and books John holds in his hands is a book he authored, which was published in 2004 by the American Psychiatric Press: Doing the Right Thing: An Approach to Moral Issues in Mental Heath Treatment. This is typical of John's concern with the ethics of health care, and is no doubt the reason he is so widely respected, both by his friends and his colleagues.

My daughter Sarah--pictured at age 20, is someone for whom I have true and unalloyed love and affection. I was there when she was born, but now at 21 she is a grown woman. She has many accomplishments on her fast-moving life path: medical student, Phi Beta Kappa, Rhodes finalist, etc. I value those things and take paternal pride in them. But I always see the little girl I knew, smiling and eager, who thought I was some sort of demi-god. I tried to capture the girl of my memories, casual and on the verge of laughter, now holding her ever-present Starbucks chai.

Artists have always done self-portraits: when things are slow, and with only a mirror, the painter has a willing model to paint for as long as it suits him. Joshua Reynolds and Rembrandt painted many self-portraits over their careers, sometimes grand, other times simple or contrived. The corradorio at the Uffizi in Florence contains the collection of artists' self-portraits collected by Tuscany's dukes. As a practitioner of my craft, I felt obligated to paint this (not the first, and no doubt nor the last) picture of myself.

A portrait with more than one sitter increases possibilities, by virtue of interaction or comparison. I think of Velasquez's Water Seller of Seville at Apsley House, London, superficially a street scene, but to the thoughtful an allegory on life. This painting is a double portrait, but it too has a deeper meaning. I have known these young men since they were infants. Sam is now 17 and Josiah is now 12. Stages of life are readily apparent. Sam is on the threshold of manhood, with many new responsibilities and challenges on the horizon. This may account for his faux severity, which is belied by his animated hands. Sam is intuitive and intelligent: at 14 he was the sole speaker at my 50th birthday party, and the tribute he gave was both generous and fine. His maternal family has roots back to antebellum Louisiana. Sam's demeanor evokes for me those daguerreotypes of innocent boys, pretending to be soldiers, who went off to fight in the Civil War. His wrist cast from a soccer injury with its red magic marker autograph and a saber that belonged to one of my ancestors enhance the allusion. Josiah, on the other hand, with his ubiquitous red-lined parka, has no such cares: life is full of all sorts of possibilities but--as yet--few responsibilities: who wouldn't be sunny in such circumstances?

I was in my London hotel on that damp winter evening when the courier arrived from the Palace, bearing an envelope. The note inside was written on the familiar cream and gold paper, with the royal cipher and "Buckingham Palace" embossed in red. "Please drop by this evening," it said. "We are hosting a reception for the diplomatic corps, and I would like a diversion. Wear tails so the footmen will admit you. E R" I dressed quickly, and a mere 20 minutes later I was ushered into the Reception Hall on the Palace's ground floor, just as she was descending the Grand Staircase. We stepped up into the Marble Hall and there we talked pleasantly for about a half an hour, under the somber gaze of her great great grandmother, Queen Victoria.

This of course is a fantasy, but anyone who knows me will tell you I have a great fondness (obsession?) for the English monarch. I recently wrote The Queen's Lady In Waiting, Susan Hussey, requesting an audience during a recent trip to London. I received an exquisitely polite but unambiguous response, which began, "[a]s I'm sure you can imagine, The Queen receives many such requests." Ah well. My friend Steve, however, told me I should send The Queen a painting. When I arrived in London on February 19, 2005, this painting--framed in black, scarlet and gold, the livery colors of the House of Windsor--was delivered to Lady Hussey, together with the address and phone number of my hotel.

Alas, I never got the call. But at least one of my paintings is at Buckingham Palace.