November 5, 2026
To: Patrick Kennedy, Minneapolis, MN
Dear Patrick,
You’ve been to Comfort a few times and I’m sure you remember the large collection of portraits- from the 1700s to current day that I’ve been fortunate to collect.
I know the names of the subjects for many of them, and the artists. But even the ones without provenance have a story and I’m glad to be the aggregator of those tales.
Some of my favorites are below:
Portrait of a Gentleman, by Scott Slaven, After Léon Bonnat (1833–1922)
Portrait of Robert Forbes of Castleton, from the School of Sir Henry Raeburn
Portrait of a Gentleman by Dorothy Elaine Vicaji
Portrait of a Lady (1874) Eugénie-Marie Salanson
As I wander around Comfort, mostly preparing the house for another weekend of guests, I find myself in silent conversations with them.
“You’re looking good sir? How’s it going madam? Any good tales from last weekend sir?”
And I wonder what they might think about life now, Comfort now, the world now.
In my mind, they are always watching and engaging. And always looking me straight in the eye.
And they never look away.
When I was growing up, my mother, an admittedly beautiful woman, had her chair in the living room. That was her chair, where she would smoke her Carltons and drink Chenin Blanc from the jug on the kitchen counter. No, it was not refrigerated.
I have no judgment…okay a little. From miles and years away.
When you’d have a conversation with my mother, often she would speak but wouldn’t really be looking at you. She’d be catching her reflection in the giant picture window.
Now to be fair, I’ve noticed a thousand times that on a Zoom call, I’m not looking at the guest, but instead I’m looking at myself. And I catch myself…and really try to focus on the subject. But I’m guessing they don’t notice, because, well, they’re looking at themselves as well. You’ve been on a thousand zoom calls.
Please tell me I’m not crazy here.
Years after my mother died, I had a terrific mentor, who lifted me professionally in immeasurable ways. I truly lay most of my early success at their feet.
But they had one fault. They couldn’t always look me in the eye when speaking to me.
And now, I find myself doing the same thing.
I mask it by focusing on other things while someone is speaking, nodding at the right time, asking the right questions, but NOT looking them in the eye.
And THAT, is a failing on my part. And I’m trying to fix it.
My father, as probably every father of his generation, was famous for saying “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
It used to annoy me. And intimidate me. And infuriate me.
But he was right.
Connecting eye to eye, in my mind, is the most connective, intimate act we can share.
Our screens distract us. The world distracts us. Our minds distract us. In a world where we say we CRAVE connection, we have developed this curious inability to connect…because we, because I don’t give others our FULL attention.
So, the next time you see me and we’re having a conversation, and I’m not looking you straight in the eye, please say, “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I won’t take umbrage. It will mean you want a deeper connection. I promise I’ll give it.
I always love having you and Matt at Comfort and seeing you in random places around the world. Please come to visit when I’m in Paris.
Stephen