Touchstones runs the angst gamut
His compositions are evocative. The halogen glow of the laptop flickers as J.R. Harper scrolls through cached images of photographs. “Check this one out, I think it’s pretty intense,” he says. A long-haired man, scruffy, unshaven, sits perched on a porcelain throne, sans clothing, mouth agape, taking his next bite of the half-eaten hamburger he clutches in his hand.