I don’t have any at the office, but I have a few up in my living room. One is a photo of my brother and me when we were little, taken by my Grandpa. He was an artist and dabbled in photography so it’s a really nice photo. The others are within a frame that has many photos in it, and I’m always with other people.
I also have three drawings of me up, done my my brother, a girl in a pizza place, and my Scrabble opponent.
I once worked with a woman who had the entire back half of her desk covered with framed photographs of herself. Maybe one with her husband and one with her mother, but the others just of her in different outfits and poses. She was a beautiful woman, always well put together and had done some modeling as a young woman. The rest of us put the display down to a harmless quirk of an aging beauty. But, I remember visitors’ eyes widening when they caught first sight of her shrine to herself.
I have a large portrait of moi hanging in my livingroom. It was done, in charcoal and chalk, at the N.O. World Exposition in 1984. I like looking at the handsome guy I once was. Beats looking in the mirror.
I keep a “before” picture of myself in my office. It’s a reminder not to forget where I came from (152 pounds ago).
VCNJ~
I have some, er, depictions of myself. But not photos.
For many years I had a full nude charcoal sketch of myself displayed on my wall. It was made during a time when I was in school and made money by taking my clothes off for figure drawing and so on. I suppose that one is about how pretty I am (was) or at least about how pretty the drawing was. Well, no, it wasn’t pretty. It was more like, coiled. I took off my clothes for a lot of artists and some of them made me pretty but that was the only one I really wanted to have. Though there is a painting of me somewhere as the sort of, er, kudzu goddess. If I knew where it was, I might buy it, too. It had something. At least in my memory.
My face was not in the charcoal, however, so only one person ever figured out it was me and I married him later. Okay, two, my mother spotted my birthmark.
I also had a friend who drew cartoons and did a picture of me as a super-character which I had on the wall in my home office for a while. The same guy drew a picture of me as a member of the SCOTUS as a graduation present and I had it on my office wall back in the day when I had an office wall.
I have some travel photos of myself in exotic locales displayed, not for me to look at myself but to look at the locale (and sometimes to have thoughts about the person with me who took the photo). Frankly, I don’t care whether other people find this “creepy” or not. If you’re in my house, you can enjoy it, ignore it, lor leave.
I have on my wall-o-junk over my bed a picture of my roomie and I at Picnic Day 2005 and me and my dog the first day I got him (7 years ago), and a bunch of posters, a Band-uh! bra, and miscellaneous stuff.
The lady who sits next to me at work has (I actually counted them) eight large, framed, Glamor-Shots-esqe photos of herself in her work area.
She updates them every three years. By which I mean she trundles herself into the Glamor Shots equivalent locally and has eight new photos taken and replaces the old photos.
Why, yes, yes that is creepy as hell.
No, there are no photos of me on display, anywhere.
I have a few vacation shots of myself alone, but the other photos of me have other people in them as well.
One of my friends, who lives alone, has seven framed baby pictures of herself in her bedroom. It seems odd to me, but I can’t put my finger on why I feel that way.