Sittings

The year in portraits.

A Light Brahma rooster in a worn olive MA-1 flight jacket over a gray henley, standing on a sandy Florida beach at dawn with binoculars around his neck, a thin column of white smoke rising in the pale blue-pink sky behind him

The Gantry

Twenty-Nine Stories

He had spent a decade on something that preferred, ultimately, to go in every direction at once. The blueprints were still warm. He found no fault with ambition — only with the assumption that height and permanence were the same conversation.

29 May 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a cream linen blazer over a navy Breton stripe shirt, standing at the edge of a red clay tennis court with one wing resting on a green metal railing, warm Parisian sunlight filtering through plane trees, green grandstand seats in soft bokeh behind him

Porte d'Auteuil, Midday

Changeover

He had arrived for the first serve and would stay through the last — not from loyalty to either player, but because leaving early reveals something about a person he'd rather not know. The clay dust settled on his cuffs. He made no effort to brush it away.

28 May 2026

A White Leghorn rooster in wire-rimmed spectacles and an ivory cable-knit sweater, standing at a wooden lectern in a gothic stone library, holding a sheet of vellum up to stained glass light

The Apostolic Study

Natural Language

The document had been reviewed by seventeen committees, which he found reassuring in precisely the way one finds a seatbelt reassuring — not because it will be needed, but because someone thought to install it. He read the summary standing, as was his preference for things that required his full attention.

27 May 2026

A close-up head-and-shoulders portrait of an Ayam Cemani rooster with iridescent black plumage and dark comb, wearing a cream cashmere quarter-zip pullover over a white polo, seated in a black modernist chair in a minimalist concrete space with diffused overhead panel lighting and a monstera plant

Measurement Day

Unassisted

The trainer had a programme. The pharmacist had a drawer that required a second key. He had only his constitution, which, like the cashmere, required no explanation.

26 May 2026

A Barred Plymouth Rock rooster in a black tuxedo with satin lapels and white dress shirt seated alone in a plush red velvet theater, end credits scrolling on the distant cinema screen in warm defocused light, empty seats surrounding him, cinematic chiaroscuro lighting

The Palais, Closing Night

Sustained Applause

He stayed through the credits, which is how you know. Not for the names — anyone can read a name — but for the particular silence that follows when a room has decided something together and hasn't yet found the words.

25 May 2026

A White Leghorn rooster in a vintage ivory racing suit with navy stripe and aviator goggles perched on his head, standing alone on an empty oval racetrack at golden dawn, a strip of old red bricks at his feet, massive empty grandstands rising behind him in warm bokeh

The Yard of Bricks

Pace Lap

The suit had been pressed since Thursday — discipline, or the quiet anxiety of a man who takes ceremony personally. The track held its breath. He had learned long ago that the fastest thing in any room is the moment just before it starts.

24 May 2026

A Silver Laced Wyandotte rooster in a deep burgundy velvet smoking jacket and cream silk ascot standing in a candlelit stone wine cellar, holding a crystal wine glass up near a taper candle, oak barrels stacked behind him, cobblestone floor, warm chiaroscuro candlelight

The Cellar, by Appointment

Distinction

Everyone in the room had been told they were exceptional, which rather diluted the term. He held the glass at arm's length and said nothing. Some judgments improve with restraint.

22 May 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in midnight-blue doctoral regalia and mortarboard seated on a white folding chair at an outdoor university commencement ceremony, looking back over his shoulder, rolled programme tucked under one wing, rows of empty white chairs on green lawn with a distant podium and floral arrangements in warm sunlit bokeh

Fourteenth Row, Aisle Seat

Prepared Remarks

The speaker had been advised to mention the future, which struck him as redundant at a ceremony designed entirely around it. He kept his programme rolled and his expression charitable. Some opinions are best expressed by the quality of one's silence.

21 May 2026

A tall black Modern Game rooster in a cream warm-up jacket with navy piping over a white t-shirt, standing in the wooden doorway of an empty gymnasium, one wing resting on the doorframe, hardwood basketball court and bleachers behind him in warm overhead light

The Western Conference, Overtime

Regulation Height

They measured the doorframe after he left, which he took as flattery. He had never asked a room to accommodate him — only that it acknowledge the adjustment had been made.

20 May 2026

A Copper Maran rooster in a charcoal flannel three-piece suit with burgundy pocket square, standing in a dimly lit industrial electrical switchyard at night, holding a leather-bound ledger, banks of heavy switches and analog voltage gauges in warm tungsten bokeh behind him

The Switchyard, After Hours

Load-Bearing

The gauges hadn't moved in eleven years, which was precisely the point. He'd long understood that the most essential things in a system are the ones nobody thanks — and that the ledger under his wing contained nothing so vulgar as numbers.

19 May 2026

A gray Andalusian rooster in a tan linen sport coat and pale blue oxford shirt standing at a wooden racetrack rail at golden hour, vintage binoculars hanging from his neck, dirt track curving away into warm light with a grandstand in soft focus behind

Laurel Park, the Far Turn

Seven to One

They had posted him at seven to one — generous, if you considered the spring, unkind if you understood the winter that preceded it. He took the rail position and let the binoculars hang. You don't need magnification when the thing you came to see is already running away from the field.

18 May 2026

A Blue Andalusian rooster in a navy double-breasted peacoat with brass buttons and cream cable-knit sweater, leaning against a weathered wooden pier railing at a foggy harbor at dawn, cargo cranes and container ships in soft bokeh across the water

The Registry, Amended

Ballast

The paperwork was pristine, which should have been the first indication. He had long maintained that the truest weight is the kind no ledger accounts for — and the harbor, to its credit, had never once asked him to declare it.

17 May 2026

A rooster in a cream linen blazer and open-collar white shirt seated at a wrought-iron cafe table in an Italian piazza at golden hour, a small espresso cup on the table, workers erecting scaffolding and colorful bunting in the blurred background

Piazza, the Soundcheck

Every Language at Once

The espresso had gone cold during the second rehearsal, and he had not reached for it once. There is a particular frequency — somewhere between brass and conviction — that renders caffeine redundant.

16 May 2026

A Gold Sebright rooster in a midnight blue sequined dinner jacket and white wing-collar shirt with black bow tie, seated before a backstage vanity mirror surrounded by warm Edison bulbs, his reflection visible behind him, a glass of sparkling water and handwritten note on the dressing table, vintage theater posters on the wall

Vienna, the Second Evening

Key Change

The key change arrived where everyone expected it, and still the room held its breath. He had rehearsed the modesty of the bow — twice from the left, once from the right — but the sequins, he maintained, had always been his own decision.

15 May 2026

A Welsummer rooster in a dove-gray linen suit with pale blue pocket square and dark green Wellington boots, paused at the edge of a rain puddle on a wet cobblestone European city street, his reflection visible in the still water, bright diffused post-rain light with bokeh city background

Route Unavailable

Standing Water

The puddle was not deep, but depth had never been the point. He owned the boots for occasions precisely like this — and the occasion, as he understood it, was knowing when the road ahead is someone else's problem.

14 May 2026

A Light Brahma rooster in a slate gray warm-up jacket with white piping walking through a dark concrete arena tunnel toward warm golden light at the far end, shot from behind at low angle, fluorescent lights overhead, dramatic tail feathers trailing

Eastern Conference, the Fifth

Level, Briefly

The series had arrived at that rare arithmetic where neither side owed the other anything. He adjusted nothing — the jacket was already right — and walked toward the light with the unhurried certainty of someone who understood that evenness is not a resting place but a ledge.

13 May 2026

A Blue Andalusian rooster in a charcoal flannel suit jacket and burgundy knit tie, seated on a weathered green wooden chair beside home plate at an empty minor league baseball field at blue hour dusk, stadium lights glowing in warm bokeh behind

Below the Letters

Second Opinion

The machine confirmed what he already knew, which should have been the end of it. He stayed in his seat. Some arguments are worth more than their conclusions.

12 May 2026

A Welsummer rooster in a cream linen blazer over a black turtleneck, standing in three-quarter rear view on a polished concrete floor in a minimalist white-walled gallery, gazing at a large abstract painting in blues and ochre, natural skylight illumination from above

May XI

Catalogue Raisonné

He had been standing in front of the same piece for forty minutes, which the docent took as devotion and the security guard took as a warning sign. Some men look at art. Others wait for art to look back.

11 May 2026

A Barred Plymouth Rock rooster in a worn olive waxed cotton field jacket over a cream henley, leaning against the railing of a weathered wooden farmhouse porch with a ceramic coffee mug beside him, overcast dawn sky and rolling meadow with fence posts in soft bokeh behind

Southerly, the Fence Post

Permanent Address

They departed at first light, the way they always do — without luggage, without explanation, without so much as a forwarding address. He watched until the last formation dissolved into the overcast, then returned to his coffee with the quiet certainty of a man whose coordinates have never required updating.

9 May 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in a charcoal turtleneck and camel hair sport coat standing in the center aisle of an empty grand theater, crimson velvet seats on either side, ornate proscenium arch and warm bokeh stage lights behind him

The Seventy-Ninth

Standing Room

The house was dark, the seats numbered, and every name on the list had been there long before the list existed. He folded the program and kept it — not as proof, but as a formality.

6 May 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a midnight-blue velvet dinner jacket with black satin lapels and bow tie, ascending a grand marble staircase shot from a low angle, neoclassical columns and vaulted ceiling above, warm amber uplighting from recessed stair lights

First Monday, the Stair

Gilt

The invitation had specified 'festive,' which he interpreted as permission to wear what he always wears, only more so. The staircase was longer than advertised. He did not rush.

5 May 2026

An Ayam Cemani rooster in an oatmeal linen robe kneeling in a minimalist Japanese room with pale wood floors, facing a shoji screen window with golden morning light streaming through, dust motes suspended in the beam, seen from behind in three-quarter view

Fourth Light

Old Practice

He rises at the same hour regardless of whether anyone is watching, which is the point entirely. Some forces do not require belief to function — but he has always found it helps.

4 May 2026

A Copper Maran rooster in a faded chambray shirt and rolled oatmeal linen trousers, walking barefoot in profile along a wide empty beach at low tide, overcast sky reflected in wet sand, tail feathers trailing in the sea breeze

The Littoral

Sideways

He had always walked this way — not because anyone showed him, but because no one needed to. Some inheritances predate instruction.

3 May 2026

A rooster in a navy cashmere overcoat over a cream cable-knit sweater, standing in three-quarter profile at a floor-to-ceiling airport terminal window with a leather weekender bag at his feet, gazing out at ground equipment on the overcast tarmac

Haneda, the Ground Crew

Carry-On

He had always believed that the measure of civilization was not what it built, but what it no longer required a man to carry. The carousel turned with mechanical patience, and he watched it the way one watches a river — grateful, and only slightly redundant.

2 May 2026

A Black Sumatra rooster in a black bomber jacket over a white t-shirt, seated at a competition desk with an arcade fight stick, under blue and purple stage lighting in a darkened arena with bokeh crowd lights behind

Golden Week, the Main Stage

Frame Perfect

The bracket had been posted at dawn, and he studied it the way one studies a tide chart — not to predict the outcome, but to know where to stand. Composure, he had always believed, is its own form of advantage.

1 May 2026

A Welsummer rooster in a camel hair overcoat and burgundy wool scarf walking through a concrete stadium player tunnel toward a bright green football pitch, dramatic side lighting casting a sharp shadow, tail feathers trailing behind him

April, the Return Leg

Called Up

The squad list had been revised three times before breakfast, which he regarded as a promising sign — certainty, in his experience, was the enemy of good selection. He laced his boots with the unhurried conviction of a man returning to a place he had never actually left.

30 April 2026

A White Leghorn rooster in a heather-grey running singlet with race number 347, dark split shorts, and retro leather running shoes, standing on an empty misty road at dawn holding a stopwatch, golden backlight casting a long shadow

Spring Classic, the Last Kilometre

One Fifty-Nine

He had trained for a number that no one believed in, and then someone beside him believed in it eleven seconds faster. The watch confirmed what the body already knew — that thresholds, once crossed, belong to everyone.

29 April 2026

A Barred Plymouth Rock rooster in a midnight navy peak-lapel dinner jacket with black satin lapels, white wing-collar shirt, and black bow tie, seated at a formal candlelit dining table with crystal glassware and silver candelabras, warm golden candlelight illuminating his black and white barred plumage

The Formal Reply

By Invitation

The invitation had been embossed, which he took as a sign of sincerity rather than excess. He had crossed an ocean for less — though never, it should be said, in anything off the rack.

28 April 2026

A Golden Laced Wyandotte rooster in a cream linen sport coat over a pale blue oxford shirt, straw Panama hat, and tan leather gloves, leaning on a white rail fence at a horse racetrack at dawn, brass binoculars around his neck, foggy grandstand in the background

Derby Week, the Rail

Morning Line

The morning line had been published before dawn, which struck him as optimistic. He preferred his convictions formed slowly, like good leather — and his hat, he was certain, would outlast any of their predictions.

28 April 2026

A Buff Brahma rooster in a sage linen field jacket and cream henley shirt, standing at the rocky edge of a vast canyon escarpment at golden hour, hands in pockets, dramatic rift valley stretching into atmospheric haze behind him

April XXVII

Distance, Given Time

Some separations announce themselves. Others move so slowly that by the time anyone thinks to measure, the question has already answered itself. He had been standing at the edge long enough to know that patience and geology have the same temperament.

27 April 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a long camel wool overcoat over a black turtleneck, striding through a grand marble foyer with chandeliers and evening blue light through the glass doors behind him

Premiere Week, the Mezzanine

Second Look

The invitation said eight o'clock. He arrived at seven fifty-three — not from eagerness, but because he understood that fashion, like comedy, is mostly timing.

24 April 2026

A Copper Maran rooster in a tailored charcoal suit jacket and white dress shirt standing in a backstage corridor, warm golden stage lights glowing behind him, dramatic copper-black tail plumage, looking off to one side with calm composure

Selection Thursday

Holding Pattern

He had arrived early, not from anxiety but from the quiet conviction that punctuality is its own elegance. The corridor was full of men rehearsing handshakes — he alone had nothing to rehearse.

23 April 2026

An Ayam Cemani rooster with iridescent black plumage wearing a navy cable-knit sweater and olive waxed cotton jacket, standing on a wooden porch during a rainstorm at dusk, amber lantern glowing beside him, bruised violet clouds and distant treeline beyond

What the Canopy Kept

The Luminance

There are those who chase storms and those who let storms find them — he had always preferred the latter arrangement, which required only a porch and the conviction that the sky would eventually explain itself. The treeline caught something that evening, a faint shimmer no forecast had promised, and he regarded it the way one regards any unexpected honesty: without moving, and for longer than was strictly necessary.

22 April 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a charcoal turtleneck and olive field jacket standing on a wooden observation deck at night, amber lantern glowing behind him, faint meteor streaks crossing the starry sky above pine trees

What Falls Without Landing

The Vigil

He had driven two hours to stand on a deck he could have stood on anywhere, but the point was never the view — it was the decision to wait for something that owed him nothing. The sky performed on its own schedule. He simply chose to be present for the commute.

21 April 2026

A White Leghorn rooster in a vintage burgundy running singlet with race number 47 pinned to his chest and cream shorts, standing on a misty empty marathon finish line at dawn, timing clock blurred in the background, wet asphalt reflecting morning light

Fifty Minutes, Twenty-Six Seconds

Personal Best

He had trained in the old way — hills before dawn, the quiet argument between lung and will — and still arrived at the line with the suspicion that effort itself was becoming ornamental. The course would not remember who sweated.

20 April 2026

A Barred Plymouth Rock rooster in a grey windowpane check flannel suit with lavender shirt and cream pocket square, seated in a burgundy velvet chair in a wood-paneled auction saleroom, holding a numbered paddle, gilt-framed oil paintings on the walls behind him, warm amber spotlight overhead

North Atlantic, by Proxy

Lot Forty-Seven

The paddle rose once, with a certainty that had nothing to do with the object and everything to do with what the object had survived. He had never been to sea. He suspected that was rather the point.

19 April 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in a navy wool blazer and open-collar white linen shirt standing at an ornate gilded theater box office window, receiving a printed ticket through the brass grille, warm amber lighting from vintage sconces illuminating the mahogany-paneled lobby behind him.

Section 109, Aisle Seat

Face Value

The confirmation arrived at 10:02, which is to say two minutes after the certainty had already settled. He printed it anyway — not from doubt, but because some transactions deserve the weight of paper.

18 April 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in an oversized charcoal cashmere warm-up jacket and white tee walking through a concrete arena tunnel toward bright court lights, low-angle shot with dramatic chiaroscuro lighting

Play-In, Final Night

Closing Speed

He had been eleven behind with the room half-empty and the coats already buttoned. By the time they turned around, he was standing in the tunnel mouth adjusting his collar, as though he had been there the entire time.

17 April 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a charcoal herringbone overcoat and burgundy wool scarf standing on an icy rock at the edge of a frozen shoreline, pale blue glacial ice floes in dark water behind him, overcast sky

Latitude Sixty-Six

South of Everything

The ground beneath him had been receding for years, though he had never adjusted his posture to account for it. Some things, he felt, were best met standing — particularly the ones that would prefer you didn't.

16 April 2026

A Black Copper Marans rooster in a slate-blue wool varsity jacket with cream leather sleeves standing at center court of an empty basketball arena, dramatic overhead spotlights on polished hardwood floor, scoreboard glowing in soft bokeh behind

Rose Quarter, April

Rally Conditions

The deficit had never concerned him. He had watched the numbers with the patience of a man who understood arithmetic but preferred narrative — and narrative, he had always believed, favored the unhurried.

15 April 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in an emerald green blazer stands before a gilt-framed mirror in a mahogany-paneled fitting room, silver tailor's shears with black ribbon hovering near the shoulder, warm amber lighting, oak parquet floor.

Sunday's Emerald

The Fitting

They told him the jacket had only ever been cut in one size. He stood in the fitting room anyway, watching the shears work, understanding finally that tradition is not inherited — it is altered, stitch by stitch, until it sits on shoulders it was never designed for.

14 April 2026

A Black Australorp rooster in a heather brown tweed blazer and cream cable-knit sweater standing at a walnut desk in a book-lined study, a Scrabble board and tiles before him, warm afternoon light through curtained windows, brass desk lamp glowing

April XIII

Across and Down

The board had been between them for an hour, and neither had apologized for the silence. He placed the word with the certainty of a man who does not play for points — one plays, he had long believed, for the pleasure of the word itself.

13 April 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a dark green blazer and white polo stands at a wooden concession counter with a paper-wrapped sandwich and sweet tea, pink azaleas and Georgia pines in golden afternoon light behind him.

Magnolia Lane, Sunday

The Pimento

The sandwich had cost the same for eleven years. He found this reassuring in the way one finds all fixed points reassuring — not because the world should remain unchanged, but because it was good to know that someone, somewhere, had simply decided it would.

12 April 2026

A Blue Andalusian rooster in a cream canvas flight suit perched on the railing of a weathered wooden pier at dawn, a paper coffee cup beside him, calm ocean and golden morning light behind

The Pacific, Afterward

Reentry

He had been farther than anyone, which was the sort of thing one mentioned only when asked. The view had been precisely as advertised. It was the return that no one had thought to describe — the particular stillness of arriving home to find one's mail uncollected.

11 April 2026

A Black Copper Marans rooster in a midnight navy pinstripe suit and white spread-collar shirt seated alone at the far end of a long birch conference table in a minimalist boardroom, a fountain pen and stack of documents before him, floor-to-ceiling windows showing a city skyline at blue hour dusk

Nikkei, After Hours

Forward-Looking Statements

The ink was still drying and already someone had calculated what it meant per second. He signed without reading — not from carelessness, but from the particular faith of a man who has always believed the future would arrive whether or not anyone was ready for it.

10 April 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a charcoal herringbone blazer over a cream wool turtleneck standing in the center of a grand museum gallery with arched ceilings and skylights, oil paintings in gold frames lining the walls, polished marble floor, low angle shot

The Long Study

Every Room at Once

He had been told, at some point, that the mind has rooms — hundreds of them, opening and closing without permission. He did not doubt it. He had always known which ones were lit without needing to check.

9 April 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a maize-gold cashmere sweater seated alone on a wooden bench in a dim locker room, a cut basketball net draped around his neck, fluorescent lights casting long shadows across concrete floor, lockers visible behind him

Thirty-Seven Springs

The Crowning

Everyone had left. The net still hung from his neck like something he hadn't decided whether to keep. He had been told, once, that the waiting was the hardest part — but the waiting had been simple. It was the room after the room that required composure.

8 April 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a vintage navy and cream hockey sweater with a burgundy scarf leaning against the boards of an ice hockey rink, dramatic overhead arena lighting, gleaming ice surface stretching behind him

The Horn, and After

Eighteen Thousand

Eighteen thousand seats filled, and every one of them earned in the way that only first times can be. He had learned long ago that the sound a room makes when it finally discovers itself is not quite applause — it is something nearer to permission.

7 April 2026

A Welsummer rooster in a sage green linen blazer over a cream cable-knit polo and khaki trousers walking along a manicured fairway at dawn, morning mist and golden light filtering through tall pine trees, pink and magenta azalea bushes lining the edge of the fairway

Monday, the Back Nine

The Walk-Through

He walked the course the way one reads a letter a second time — not for information, but for emphasis. The azaleas were ahead of schedule, and he saw no reason to remark upon it.

6 April 2026

A Lavender Orpington rooster in a dove grey three-piece suit with a lilac pocket square standing at the top of weathered limestone steps beside a wrought iron garden gate, white lilies in terracotta pots flanking the steps, soft morning sunlight filtering through a lush garden behind

The Fifth, Before Noon

Sunday Best

The suit had been pressed since Thursday, which suggested either foresight or faith — he had never troubled himself to distinguish between the two. The morning carried that particular stillness of a day set aside, when even the light seems to arrive more deliberately.

5 April 2026

A rooster in a camel overcoat and burgundy cashmere scarf standing at a mahogany ticket office window, warm golden light from frosted glass behind him

Last-Minute Sales Phase

The Asking Price

Half a billion requests and the window still open, barely. He arrived without urgency, which is its own kind of leverage — the understanding that what a thing costs and what a thing is worth have never been on speaking terms.

3 April 2026

A Black Copper Marans rooster in a cream linen blazer over a pale blue chambray shirt walking alone down a gravel path beneath a canopy of cherry blossom trees in full bloom, pink petals drifting around him in golden afternoon light

The Grove, After Hours

Pink Noise

They told him the peak was Wednesday. He arrived Thursday — punctuality, in his experience, being a form of agreement he preferred not to offer. The petals, at least, had the courtesy to fall without commentary.

2 April 2026

A Golden Laced Wyandotte rooster in a midnight navy velvet dinner jacket and white bow tie seated at the head of a candlelit mahogany dining table, silver candelabras glowing behind him, direct unwavering gaze into camera

April I

Without Blinking

He had told the entire table, with the composure of a man reviewing a wine list, that the plans had changed. They hadn't, of course. But the pleasure was never in the reveal — it was in the forty-five seconds of absolute silence that preceded it.

1 April 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a tan leather flight jacket with sheepskin collar over a cream turtleneck, perched on a steel observation gantry at twilight, looking upward at a starlit sky, warm tungsten work light creating rim lighting on his profile

The Eve of April

Apogee

He had packed lightly, which is to say he had packed for a man who expects to return. The distance was, by any measure, unreasonable — but then, so was the jacket, and no one had questioned that.

31 March 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in a camel wool overcoat over a charcoal herringbone suit and burgundy scarf, standing in a modern airport terminal beside floor-to-ceiling windows with planes in fog on the tarmac, a long queue of travelers stretching behind him into soft bokeh

Gate Forty-Seven

Boarding Order

He had been told to expect a delay, which is to say he had been told nothing at all. The line moved with the collective determination of people who had each, separately, decided they were next.

30 March 2026

A Polish crested rooster in a white cable-knit V-neck sweater vest and white trousers standing at the baseline of a blue hard court, holding a vintage wooden tennis racquet, golden afternoon light streaming through an open stadium roof, empty grandstands behind him

Championship Sunday

Between Points

He tightened the strings with the unhurried precision of someone who understands that readiness is not a state one arrives at but a posture one holds. The court had been swept twice. The second time, he suspected, was for the sweeper's benefit.

29 March 2026

A dark-feathered Blue Andalusian rooster in a navy three-piece suit seated at a glass-topped desk in a corner office at dusk, a brass desk lamp casting warm light on a stack of contracts, city lights glowing through floor-to-ceiling windows behind him

Forty, With Interest

Borrowed Light

He had always preferred the word 'leverage' to 'debt.' One suggested architecture; the other, a leaning building. The papers required six signatures and a silence that, in certain boardrooms, passes for conviction.

28 March 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a navy linen blazer and Breton-striped shirt standing on a weathered wooden dock beside a brass bowl of smoldering socks, sailboat masts and golden harbor light behind him at dawn

One Hundred and Seven

Smoke Season

He removed the argyle pair first — a deliberate choice, and not without ceremony. The fire took them quickly, as fires do with things we've already decided to let go. By the time the harbor wind shifted, he was barefoot and entirely unbothered, which is to say: ready.

27 March 2026

A White Leghorn rooster in ivory and gold ceremonial vestments stands in a candlelit cathedral vestry while an elderly tailor kneels behind him adjusting the brocade cope, a gilt mirror and iron candelabras in the background.

One Hundred and Six

The Vestment

The robes had been cut for a different silhouette entirely. He stood in the vestry while the tailor worked in silence, both of them aware that tradition, like gabardine, requires only the slightest alteration to fit someone it was never designed for.

26 March 2026

A Brahma rooster in a heavy herringbone overcoat with fur collar stands on exposed sedimentary rock amid frozen arctic tundra, geological tools nearby, pale northern light.

March XXV

North of the Treeline

They found him where no one had thought to look—north of the treeline, older than the ice itself. He had simply arrived early and dressed accordingly, his herringbone buttoned against a chill that would not come for another twenty-three million years.

25 March 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in a pale blush linen suit standing at the stone edge of the Tidal Basin beneath cascading cherry blossom branches, petals drifting through the air and floating on still water, soft overcast spring light

The Basin, Year One Hundred Fourteen

The Appointment

The trees were a gift, though from whom no longer mattered — only that they kept the appointment. He wore the linen suit because someone should, and because the petals, he had noticed, do not fall for an audience. They fall because it is time.

24 March 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in an oatmeal cable-knit fisherman's sweater and dark wool flat cap, standing on a birch windowsill beside a steaming ceramic coffee mug, frost-covered window showing a snowy Nordic landscape beyond

Northern Latitudes

Seven Years Running

Seven years running, and still no one had asked him how he did it. That was the secret, of course. Contentment does not explain itself — it simply persists, like good posture.

23 March 2026

A Black Copper Marans rooster in a black satin evening jacket standing on an empty theater stage, shot from behind, single spotlight cutting through haze above, rows of empty burgundy velvet seats stretching into darkness, iridescent green-black tail feathers catching the light

Seven, Again

House Lights Down

The house lights were still down when he arrived, which meant either he was early or they had left everything exactly as it was. He straightened his collar and let the silence hold — forty thousand people discovering, all at once, that they had come here to feel something.

22 March 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a cream terry cloth robe with vintage swim goggles on his forehead standing at the tiled edge of a turquoise infinity pool at golden hour, white stucco villa and palm trees in the background

Warm-Up Lane, Saturday

Warm-Up Lane

Four years is a long time to hold one's breath. He surfaced without gasping, which is the mark of someone who was never really gone. The water was warmer than he remembered.

21 March 2026

A Golden Laced Wyandotte rooster in a camel linen blazer and white open-collar shirt standing in a grand stone archway, half bathed in warm golden sunlight and half in cool blue shadow

Equal Light, Friday

The Equinox

The light had been measured down to the second — twelve hours each, a gentleman's agreement between the sun and everything else. He stood in the doorway as if he'd brokered the deal himself. He had always preferred the mornings, but he understood the dark's position.

20 March 2026

A Black Copper Marans rooster in a navy and gold varsity jacket, foam finger, and cheesehead hat, standing on a blue arena seat amid falling confetti with a stern, unamused expression

First Round, Thursday

First Round, Seated

The confetti had been falling for eleven seconds. Everyone around him was already calling someone. He remained seated — not unmoved, but unwilling to let the moment become smaller than it was.

19 March 2026

A Silver Spangled Hamburg rooster in a heather gray wool overcoat and navy fisherman's sweater standing on a wooden train platform in fog, bare trees with early buds, empty tracks receding into mist, a wooden bench behind him

Platform Six, Mid-March

Almost Ready

The schedule said eleven minutes. He had been standing here longer than that, but the cold had a way of suspending time — March air, not yet warm enough to forgive anything. The trees along the tracks were almost ready. He was in no particular hurry to find out for what.

18 March 2026

A white Leghorn rooster in an emerald velvet waistcoat with shamrock boutonniere striding down a sunlit cobblestone street amid green and gold confetti with festive bunting overhead

March XVII

The Wearing

He had not been invited to lead the parade. This was, he felt, an administrative error that corrected itself the moment he stepped off the curb. The confetti agreed. The crowd, eventually, did too.

17 March 2026

A Buff Orpington rooster in a cream cable-knit sweater and blue oxford shirt standing on a small island green surrounded by water, a golf iron leaning against him, golden late-afternoon Florida light

Ponte Vedra, the Seventeenth

The Approach

The green is an island, which is to say, there is no margin for the approximate. He adjusted his cuffs, considered the pin, and struck with the unhurried certainty of someone who has always believed the water was for other people. Four shots back is nothing when you have never learned to count backward.

16 March 2026

A Silver Laced Wyandotte rooster in a charcoal herringbone tweed blazer seated in a burgundy leather club chair, a bank of television screens showing basketball courts behind him, afternoon window light

Selection Sunday

The Selection

The committee had been deliberating since morning. He sat in the leather chair where he always sat — third from the left, nearest the window — and did not check his phone. There is a particular grace in waiting for a verdict you cannot influence, a stillness that resembles, if you are not paying close attention, indifference.

15 March 2026

A rooster in a tweed blazer stands atop a wooden lectern in a wood-paneled lecture hall, equations on the chalkboard behind him

Three Point One Four

Three Point One Four

He had been asked, more than once, to round it off. To find the clean ending everyone insisted was there. He declined — not out of stubbornness, but because he understood that some sequences were never meant to resolve, and that the beauty was precisely in the continuing.

14 March 2026

A dark-feathered rooster in an unzipped black warm-up jacket standing alone at center court of an empty professional basketball arena, scoreboard glowing faintly behind him, dramatic overhead lighting casting a single shadow on the polished hardwood floor

Eighty-Three

Eighty-Three

Eighty-three is not a round number. It does not resolve neatly, does not sit flush against any convenient mythology — and perhaps that is precisely the point. He wore the weight of a near-record the way one wears a borrowed coat: carefully, aware that the original owner's name is still stitched inside the collar.

13 March 2026

A rooster in a navy flight suit with mission patches standing before a large circular observation window showing Earth's curved horizon and the darkness of space, cool blue-white lighting from above and from the planet below

Thursday, Outbound

The Distance

They had been talking about the return for longer than anyone could remember. He stood at the observation window in the kind of silence that only altitude provides — Earth below him like a question he had already answered — and considered the particular courage of going back to a place no one has visited in half a century. The suit fit well. It always does when you stop thinking about it.

12 March 2026

A Silver Laced Wyandotte rooster in a cream varsity cardigan with burgundy letter patch standing at center court of a hardwood gymnasium, scoreboard reading zeros behind him, late afternoon light streaming through clerestory windows

Thirty-One and Counting

Thirty-One and Counting

Thirty-one mornings without incident. He stood at center court in the kind of silence that only an empty gymnasium knows — scoreboard zeroed, light coming through the high windows like a verdict — and considered the mathematics of an unblemished thing. Perfection, he had learned, is just pressure with better posture.

11 March 2026

A Rhode Island Red rooster in a cream cable-knit sweater and dark chinos standing on a red clay baseball infield at golden hour, scoreboard and trees in soft focus behind him

Spring Training, Sarasota

The Warm-Up

The field had been raked since dawn. He stood at the edge of the diamond in the kind of light that makes promises — early March, the air still deciding — and considered the arc of the thing. He had always preferred the single that nobody noticed.

10 March 2026

A Brahma rooster in an embroidered charcoal Nehru-collar jacket, lit by a single shaft of side light against a dark background, expression grave and composed

March IX

A Different Room Entirely

He had made his name in a different room entirely — one with better acoustics and a considerably shorter institutional memory. The old order, it turned out, had been sustained less by conviction than by the habit of it. By midday, the mountain had found itself a new voice.

9 March 2026

A rooster in a burgundy dressing gown at a breakfast table by an arched window, a pocket watch resting on the white cloth, morning light

March VIII

The Given Hour

He had arranged his Sunday with considerable care. The arrangement, as is so often the case, had not been consulted. One adjusts, he supposed, and ordered more coffee.

8 March 2026

A silver-laced rooster in a formal navy parade jacket with gold frogging stands under an alpine stadium tunnel arch, a small flag held at attention, the jagged peaks of the Dolomites framed in snow behind him.

March VII

The Cortina Light

He has carried heavier things. The flag, he has learned, is mostly about the angle of the elbow and the certainty in the face — the Dolomites visible behind him, large and patient and holding the light.

7 March 2026

A rooster in a charcoal wool suit standing alone at the far edge of a white-walled contemporary art gallery, arms crossed, a large abstract canvas behind him, evening crowd in soft focus at a distance

Opening Week, the Far Wall

The Vernissage

The institution opened on Thursday; the work, by his reckoning, had been open considerably longer. He took the far position in the room — the one that belongs, in any gallery, to those not interested in being seen looking — and gave it the time it merited. The guest book was still open when he left.

6 March 2026

A Silver Laced Wyandotte rooster in a cobalt and crimson striped wool scarf stands atop a stone pedestal before a grand brick stadium archway at golden hour.

March V

The Pitch

The scarf was purchased only this morning, still warm from the shop. He wore it to the match the way one wears something inherited—as if it had always been his. The game had been happening elsewhere for forty years.

5 March 2026

A distinguished rooster at the window of an empty café, considering the day. He was here before the menu card.

Early March, year of the craving

Prior Art

He had been the protein before protein required its own branding. The fortified latte, the pasta with intent — he regarded these newcomers with the patience of someone who has outlasted several enthusiasms, and whose mornings predate the supplements entirely.

4 March 2026

A rooster in a charcoal overcoat standing before a ceremonial bonfire at dusk, gathered figures in the background

March III

Before the Colours

The invitation said bonfire; he understood it to mean something older. He dressed for the cold, and also for the occasion — which are sometimes, he has learned, the same thing. The colours would come with the morning. Until then: the fire, and the company of everyone who has ever stood before one.

3 March 2026

A rooster in a pale linen suit stands with wings clasped behind his back in a terracotta courtyard, his suit jacket faintly stained with pink and orange pigment, colour-dusted walls receding behind him.

March II

The Seventh Colour

They had decided, without consulting him, that he would be the seventh colour. He considered this briefly and found no serious objection. The suit, after all, was last season's.

2 March 2026

A rooster in a cream cashmere turtleneck sweater stands on an armchair beside a tall window, holding a white coffee cup, gazing out at snow-covered bare trees on a still winter morning.

March I

The Considered Pause

February was loud about itself, as February tends to be. He takes his coffee to the window. The snow remains, entirely unbothered by the date.

1 March 2026

A Silver Laced Wyandotte rooster wearing a dark navy wool overcoat stands on a stone balustrade at dusk, head raised toward an indigo twilight sky where six faint points of light are arranged in a line across the horizon.

Late February, when the sky arranges itself

The Procession

He had read that six planets were aligning tonight, each settling into its appointed position with the quiet confidence of a thing that knows where it belongs. The terrace light agreed. He straightened his collar.

28 February 2026

The glass of water went untouched. He had not come here to stay.

February XXVII

The Reserve

There is a figure at which everything makes sense, and a figure at which nothing does. He had been clear about where that line fell. When it moved, he thanked the room quietly and stood — the kind of exit that requires no explanation and offers none.

27 February 2026

A rooster in a black tuxedo stands alone at center stage of an empty concert hall, a single spotlight illuminating him from above, rows of red velvet seats receding into darkness behind him.

February XXVI

What the Room Decided

The presenter had been here before. So had he. The room had simply needed a few more years to agree with itself.

26 February 2026

A rooster in a cream merino turtleneck and dark charcoal wool coat seated alone at a rustic wooden table in an alpine lodge, ceramic mug in front of him, snow-covered mountain peaks visible through the frost-edged window, fireplace glowing behind

Late February, the valley returns to itself

After the Flags Come Down

The ice had been swept and the banners taken in before Thibault made his reservation — two weeks' distance being the standard courtesy he afforded glory before consenting to observe it. He arrived in his merino turtleneck and a silence cultivated since January, ordered something warm, and watched the valley resume its ordinary indifference. A man who has never competed, he noted, can afford to take the long view.

25 February 2026

A rooster in a charcoal wool overcoat seated alone on the stone upper tiers of an ancient Roman amphitheater at night, the vast empty arena curving below, a lantern burning warm to his right, the cold winter sky above

February XXIV

The Upper Rows

The ancient amphitheater does not distinguish between its centuries. He chose the upper seats — not for economy, but because distance softens things to their proper proportion. When the flame went out, the stone received the silence as it always has: without hurry, without comment.

24 February 2026

A rooster in a rumpled linen suit stands on volcanic rock at the edge of a turquoise sea, leather satchel at his feet, gazing at the horizon.

February XXIII

The Patient Return

He had not so much departed as deferred his arrival. The island looked precisely as he had imagined — which is to say, exactly as he had left it. One does not rush these things.

23 February 2026

The room was already emptying. He did not appear to notice.

February XXII

The Long Game

He had been here before, twelve years ago, in this same light, with this same understanding of what it cost. The difference now was the manner in which he held his drink — loosely, without looking at it. That is the mark of a man who intends to stay.

22 February 2026

A man who understood, early on, that the work of revision is never quite finished.

February XXI

The Revision

He has been meaning to revisit the document for some time. There is nothing dramatic in the doing of it — only the quiet conviction that certain arrangements, however familiar, eventually require review. He pours the tea and reaches for the pen.

21 February 2026

A distinguished rooster in a perfectly pressed ivory linen suit perched on a leather trunk in a grand colonial hotel lobby, Panama hat beside him, a still Departures board visible behind, ceiling fans turning slowly overhead

Still Air

The Grounded

The board still says Departures. No one has corrected it. There is a kind of composure learned only from a canceled flight — the way the truly seasoned traveler unpacks a second time with the same unhurried precision as the first.

19 February 2026

A distinguished rooster in a midnight-blue silk robe with a silver crescent brooch at the collar, photographed against a deep indigo backdrop with a diagonal beam of moonlight, composed and still, gaze turned slightly upward

February XVIII

The Crescent

Someone looked up last night and saw it. A sliver, a suggestion, barely there — and yet enough. The month turns not on certainty but on the willingness to look. He has kept his own counsel since sundown. There is a discipline to appetite, a kind of elegance in the not-yet.

18 February 2026

A library organized for maximum effect, minimum use

February XVII

The Arrangement

The spines face outward—not by accident. Ferrante, Knausgård, that Zadie Smith he's been meaning to start. The guests arrive at seven. He's positioned them such that the light catches the gilt lettering just so. Whether he's read them is, he feels, beside the point.

17 February 2026

Two roosters at a candlelit restaurant table, barely looking at each other, wine glasses half-empty, warm intimate lighting, very Slim Aarons

A Study in Two

February

The reservation was for two. The candles have burned to their third inch. They sit across from each other in the manner of those who have long since said everything, and found it sufficient. Slim Aarons would have approved.

15 February 2026

A handsome Buff Orpington rooster in a midnight navy dinner jacket seated at an elegantly set candlelit table across from a beautiful Silkie hen wearing a delicate pearl necklace, red roses between them, warm romantic lighting

February XIV

Reservation for Two

The florist had outdone himself. The champagne, properly cold. Across the table, she adjusted the orchid behind her ear and said nothing — because some evenings require no commentary at all.

14 February 2026

A white Leghorn rooster in a minimalist white performance parka stands against a soft white background, head slightly lowered in contemplation, clean athletic styling with subtle texture

February XIII

The Stillness

The lip of the halfpipe. Sixty feet of vertical silence. Whatever comes next begins now.

13 February 2026

Alone on the pitch after the last spectator has gone, trophy held at his side as an afterthought, the floodlights burning for no one in particular

February XI

The Long Run

The yards accumulate quietly. Recognition, when it arrives, arrives like a debt finally settled — not a gift received. He has never required an audience.

11 February 2026

A distinguished rooster in an ice-white performance jacket with subtle crystalline sequins, photographed against soft cool-toned studio lighting, posed with quiet confidence and grace

February X

The Late Frost

Triple axel at thirty-five. The ice doesn't know how long you've waited. The sequins catch stadium light just the same. Some elegance refuses to hurry.

10 February 2026

A distinguished rooster in a navy blazer seated in a private box overlooking an empty football stadium strewn with confetti, holding a crystal tumbler of bourbon

February IX

The Main Event

The confetti settles in no particular hurry. Sixty thousand seats, each one empty now, each one still warm. He stays because leaving first has always struck him as a concession. The bourbon is adequate. The silence, rather better.

9 February 2026

A rooster who has been waiting longer than the occasion deserves

February VIII

The Language

He had been singing the same songs for years. It simply took the room a while to learn the words. The spotlight has always known where to find him.

8 February 2026

A rooster who has already decided

February VII

The Preparation

He had eaten well, for years, and knew the particular satisfaction of choosing not to. The table was set. It simply wasn't for him. Not yet.

7 February 2026

A rooster in an untied bow tie backstage at an awards ceremony, champagne flute untouched on a dressing table, warm single bulb lighting

Awards Season

The Understudy

Backstage, the bow tie undone. The champagne untouched. He's studied every line, rehearsed every gesture, and tonight — again — watched from the wings. There is a particular dignity in being permanently almost.

6 February 2026

A rooster in twilight contemplation, dressed simply, as one does before the beginning of something significant

February V

The Threshold

Tomorrow, two calendars will reset. He has always found something dignified in the act of waiting—not for permission, but for readiness. The cardigan was a gift. The patience, entirely his own.

5 February 2026

A white Leghorn rooster in a cream cable-knit sweater stands at a starting gate threshold, bathed in soft morning light filtering through frost

February IV

The Gate

The waiting is what makes you. The gate opens for everyone. What you bring to the moment after—that's yours alone.

4 February 2026

Dawn in an empty room, waiting for nothing in particular

February III

The Observance

Two calendars converge, as they occasionally do. The discipline is the same regardless of the name you call it. He has cleared the week of distractions—an act requiring, in itself, a certain faith.

3 February 2026

The forecast changed nothing. The coat did not.

February II

The Shadow

They had made rather a lot of fuss about a shadow. He cast his own each morning without ceremony. Six more weeks or otherwise — the overcoat was staying.

2 February 2026

The trophy caught the Melbourne light. He was already elsewhere.

Melbourne, late Sunday

The Opening

Twenty-two, and the set of all four. The racquet was placed on the baseline with the care of someone returning a borrowed book — grateful, unhurried, and already thinking of the next one.

1 February 2026

Ringside, the collar adjusted for no one's benefit but his own

One Hundred and Fifty

The Standard

One hundred and fifty years of standing correctly. He had not entered — the categories, he felt, were beneath him — but he attended each year with the quiet authority of a man who sets the benchmark by declining to compete.

31 January 2026

The bottles glowing amber had outlasted three owners. He intended to be the fourth

January XXX

The Steward

The glass needs no further polishing. He continues regardless. There is a version of hospitality that asks nothing of the guest — only of the host.

30 January 2026

An elder statesman in reading glasses and a wool cardigan, seated by a window with morning light, two calendars visible on the wall behind him

January XXIX

The Convergence

Two calendars on the wall, each marking the start of its own particular discipline. He has always admired traditions that ask for patience rather than spectacle. The window light is excellent this morning.

29 January 2026

The tracks disappear into fog, which is another way of saying they continue

January XXVIII

The Platform

The 19:42 is eleven minutes late. He does not check his watch. There are men who wait, and men who simply remain — the difference being entirely one of posture.

28 January 2026

The pen was lifted. The century could continue.

January XXVII

The Ledger

Twenty years of drafts, two billion people, and a handshake rehearsed so many times it had become almost sincere. He initialled the final page with the brevity of a man who understood that patience is only impressive in retrospect.

27 January 2026

The harbour had heard it all before. It sparkled regardless.

January XXVI

The Address

The harbour was doing its annual impersonation of a postcard. He stood on the terrace in linen, sweating politely, watching the boats arrange themselves. The speech would come later. The morning was not yet ready for language.

26 January 2026

Order, imposed gently and in pencil

January XXV

The Catalogue

The labels are in his own hand. Latin, mostly, because precision deserves a dead language. The seedlings are ahead of schedule, which pleases him less than one might expect.

25 January 2026

Confidence, briefly airborne

January XXIV

The Serve

The ball hangs. The stadium breathes in. He has always admired the particular arrogance of the toss — the assumption that what goes up will come down exactly where you need it.

24 January 2026

The building did not applaud. He did not require it.

January XXIII

The Summit

One thousand six hundred and sixty-seven feet, no rope, and the particular silence of a man who has decided the building is ready for him. The city below continued its evening without looking up. He would not have wanted it otherwise.

23 January 2026

The cardigan was a gift. The solitude was a choice.

January XXII

Parallel Disciplines

Five AM. The kettle, just beginning to sing. Two calendars mark the same day differently, each one calling for restraint. He has always preferred the discipline of beginning to the relief of ending.

22 January 2026

Harbour lights receding in the manner of things that were never his to keep

January XXI

The Crossing

The 6:15 asks nothing of its passengers except punctuality. He has never once been late. The harbour is already forgetting his name, which is precisely how he prefers it.

21 January 2026

The pen returns to the same word for the eleventh time

January XX

The Draft

The letter is three lines long. It has taken four days. He is not yet satisfied, which is to say, he is nearly finished.

20 January 2026

There is nothing left to adjust — only to accept

January XIX

The Measure

The tailor has said nothing for twenty minutes. This is the highest compliment a fitting can receive.

19 January 2026

Quality is mostly about what you choose not to acquire

January XVIII

The Collection

He has never purchased anything in haste, which is why the shelves are half-empty and entirely correct.

18 January 2026

The remote was returned to its place. The evening required no further comment.

Divisional, early evening

The Route

Forty-one to six. The scoreboard was merely confirming what the opening kickoff had already announced. He switched off the set with the quiet satisfaction of a man whose reservation had been honoured.

17 January 2026

The Steinway remembers everything; the player, only what matters

January XVI

The Instrument

The lid had been open since five. No audience required — the keys do not keep attendance, and neither does he.

16 January 2026

A distinguished rooster in a camel overcoat, alone in an emptying stadium at dusk, scarf draped over one shoulder, watching the last light fade

Match Day

Half-Time

The stadium empties in slow degrees. He remains — camel coat draped just so, scarf over one shoulder — watching the last of the light die over the fifty-yard line. The game was never really the point.

15 January 2026

From the Archive

Selected works, 1994–2024

The Patriarch

1994

The Patriarch

Clerkenwell. A borrowed Leghorn, a rented studio, and the afternoon that changed everything.

Cotswolds, Evening

1996

Cotswolds, Evening

The early work was pastoral. We hadn't yet learned to bring the countryside indoors.

Study No. 12

1997

Study No. 12

The first image Alistair considered worth printing. He was right.

Three Sitters

1998

Three Sitters

Our first group composition. The chaise has since been retired. The ambition has not.

Before Judging

1999

Before Judging

The Hampshire County Show. Where we learned that the best subjects never audition.

The New Studio

2003

The New Studio

Mayfair, at last. Proper lighting. Proper space. The work could finally breathe.

Copper Marans, No. 4

2005

Copper Marans, No. 4

The iridescence problem, solved. James printed this seventeen times before he was satisfied.

Test Polaroid

2006

Test Polaroid

The Athenaeum. We got the chair. The rooster got the portrait.

Margot, Preparing

2007

Margot, Preparing

The bow tie was her idea. The Wyandotte had opinions about the colour.

Opening Night

2008

Opening Night

Shoreditch. The first public exhibition. Forty-three people came. Thirty-nine stayed.

The Tweed Cap

2010

The Tweed Cap

The Rembrandt lighting was James's idea. The cap was the rooster's.

The Study

2011

The Study

One consulted the ledger. The other supervised from the Chesterfield. Both billed by the hour.

Golden Laced Wyandotte

2012

Golden Laced Wyandotte

Holbein with feathers. The lace pattern rendered in a way no painter could match.

The Darkroom

2013

The Darkroom

James among his chemicals. The hen wandered in and never left. Neither did he.

Black on Black

2014

Black on Black

The Ayam Cemani. Black feathers, black skin, black bones. The print that entered serious collections.

Bespoke

2016

Bespoke

Savile Row for a Sebright. The tailoring took three fittings. The posture required none.

The Elder

2018

The Elder

His last autumn in the studio. She came to every sitting that year.

The Pandemic Work

2020

The Pandemic Work

When the world emptied out, one subject remained. The work continued.

On Set

2022

On Set

Scene 4A, take three. He required no direction. The crew required patience.

The Staircase

2024

The Staircase

Five breeds. One chandelier. The most ambitious group sitting to date.