So I have a “challenging” relationship with my mother. Two years ago for her birthday, knowing she is a tad vain, I thought the best gift would be a portrait of her. Truly a tricky thing for me, as I have (and had even less then) little experience of painting people. I left her face til last, as I knew it was going to be the hardest bit, and it was only about the size of a penny (a quarter?!). I laboured over it, looking and looking and took a bathroom break about 3hrs in. When I came back I was shook; it was like *she* was really there, staring at me. Not like a photograph, like a haunting. And I broke down. She has never been a safe place for me. At least not that I could trust. She is old now, and very sick with Parkinson‘s. I lost my father in 2019 and know she won’t have long. And I knew when I looked at the picture that she was living in it, that in effect she would always be there, I caught her, in a form I could trust. She has the painting now, and loves it - but one day it will find its way back to me.

Beautiful Painting of a Beautiful Subject Beautiful Painting of a Subject Painting of a Beautiful Subject Painting of a Subject adding some thoughts: I think this thought came to me answering the post I made about a follower comment a while back. I think folks can get curious about the elevating of what they perceive as unremarkable through the love and care of an artist. It might be interesting to attempt to make a series describing this concept.

I came away from the last critique with some solid things to ponder - my relationship with beauty/sweetness, drawing vs painting, releasing my grip on other's opinions. These have led to some revelations which just scratch the surface with respect to releasing a number of limiting beliefs around my work. It's been so interesting. Felicia, one of the things I wrote down "am I doing my best? not all paintings are elegant from start to finish". I realized I had this belief that if the painting didn't feel difficult to build that I was slacking or being lazy (which I equated with lack of effort). And yet friction, which to me comes hand in hand with hard stuff (for lack of a better word), is something I actively minimize in my processes - I intentionally built a painting process in my work that is enjoyable, playful even, and fluid. And yet in my head I'm judging it (my paintings) as not serious because making them doesn't feel hard. My definition of doing my best is showing up honestly, being fully present with the work and staying curious. Those things are very challenging to do, dare I say hard, but I never acknowledged that until recently. In my head, the concept of "hard" was more technique centric, making principled marks that felt closer to how the object presented itself - definitely not fluid or playful - and yet, this is absolutely NOT how I want to paint. I also realized that I had some sort of bar set for art in general that if it happens smoothly it is less valuable than what requires sweat and tears (and, no surprises here, I thought of my drawings as something that happened smoothly). Yet elegance is effortless, right, than belabored things? and so valuable, I think more so. And doing the work so that paintings do occasionally happen effortlessly IS hard. As you suggested I've been drawing and doing quick, small paintings. Examining the relationship between them both, identifying what I value about each not just as end work but what the process reveals to me as well. Like I mentioned in critique, there is a rawness to my drawings I deeply appreciate that gets polished out when I paint - I'm suspecting because I have this belief that paintings require more time, more precise mark making, more complexity, more effort. Yet it's the directness and seamlessness of the drawings that delight me - I'm figuring out how to make direct marks with paint. Now the trick will be how to keep them that way as I embrace some of the complexities of paint (which I maybe will end up choosing not to use - who knows).

I found out who bought my painting from the gallery.... I have thoughts.