I’ve always been drawn to faces—not because of how they look, but because of what they reveal. From an early age, people told me my face gave me away—that they could read what I was feeling before I spoke. I couldn’t hide emotion, and over time I learned that this sensitivity wasn’t a weakness. It was awareness. Faces carry truth, whether we invite it or not. Our faces are not masks. They are records.
Growing up in New York City, I spent my life surrounded by people—different stories, different struggles, different rhythms of survival. I listened closely. Often to strangers. Sometimes to people I misjudged. The more I listened, the more I realized that everyone carries something beneath the surface. And I began to understand that what we call “damage” is often the visible proof that someone kept going.
Today, these portrait works live in refined private collections and design-forward interiors—acquired by collectors who value presence, meaning, and cultural depth over decoration.
That understanding led to my early body of work, Cracked Faces. At the time, I was meeting people who felt broken—quietly battling sadness, exhaustion, or isolation. I saw myself in them. As I listened to their stories and shared parts of my own, the cracks stopped representing failure. They became markers of honesty. Vulnerability, when acknowledged, holds its own kind of beauty.
As my life changed, the work changed with it. Healing didn’t erase the cracks—it clarified them. That shift gave rise to Unapologetic Faces. These portraits don’t ask to be understood or softened. They acknowledge what we’ve survived. Our faces carry pain, resilience, joy, and determination all at once. To be unapologetic is not to be unscarred—it’s to stand fully inside your story without retreat.
I continue to make this work because I believe faces tell the most honest stories we have. They show where we’ve been and who we’re becoming. Many of my portraits blend different ethnic features intentionally, because beneath surface difference, our emotional experiences are deeply shared. This work exists to honor individuality, acknowledge duality, and reflect the humanity we all recognize in one another.
And if you’re here because you’re looking for something that doesn’t just fill a wall—something that holds presence—start with the available originals.
Thank you for spending time with the work—and for meeting me here.
— Corey Wesley