At her funeral, Diana’s brother remarked on the irony that a woman named for the Roman goddess of the hunt had become, “the most hunted person of the modern age.” The title casts her in this light: before she is herself, she is a deer, caught in the glare of the camera.

This work began with a phrase Bunney found in a book on modernist portraiture: “the tyranny of the image.” Few lives were governed by it as completely as Diana’s. “There’s something about that tension between… the audience and the power,” Bunney says. Photographed relentlessly for sixteen years, Diana was known to most people only through pictures, and over time, the image came to stand in for the person. Born in the same year Diana died, Bunney knows her only through such images. It is this afterimage, rather than the woman herself, that she remakes here in dots that recall the halftone of the newspapers that once carried her face.