“Left, left, left, left, last right before gravel and you’re there.” These were photographer James Wilson’s minimalist directions to his Hampton studio traveling from the highway. I’m running late, as usual, and coming at it backwards, taking the scenic route through the Kingston Peninsula. “Right, right, right, right, left, oops, there it is”, and whoosh —straight past his studio and into the weeds. Cursing, I course correct and pull up a steep drive to a rambling century home where Mr. Wilson appears from within — self-possessed and welcoming. Continue reading The Portraiture of James Wilson →