I had just walked out of the Louvre in Paris, worn out from the visual feast inside, when I spotted a shop offering photographs of your own iris. I put my chin on their ophthalmologist-like device, didn’t blink, and it was done. Later that day, I downloaded the images from their website and I looked at my own eye for the first time from the outside, something I had only ever experienced from within. The iris is like a fingerprint. No two are alike, just like no two people are. For the pupil at the center, I used tree Peonies as my model, so what I actually painted is a flower where my own eye should be. What I see, and what anyone else sees, comes filtered through personal interest, life’s path, and focus.