I hate my stupid face. And I love it, and I hate it.
What is a self portrait: An act of vanity, fantasy, of self-loathing? All? None?
How can we even paint ourselves when we don’t even see ourselves as others do?
Or how can we represent ourselves when so much of our selves is unknown to us? – the subconscious, the denied.
How do we represent what we substantially are, in a superficial world?
There are no answers entire offered here but those are some of the questions I’ve asked in between swearing and silence.
I began this self-portrait ages ago. I painted a relatively realistic rendering of my face, then I painted over it a grotesque charicature, then I painted over this a beautified version.
I’ve now returned to it, and using ‘dramatic’ upwards lighting created a layer over this tending towards the grotesque and the realistic at once in an attempt to balance all three versions in one.
I’m not happy with it, but then neither am I happy with my face. Acceptance is the order of the day.
I remember now that she was sat opposite me and I hastily drew this sketch of her in ink as we conversed. Then sometime later I took a photo of the sketch as it lay on my table, with my notebook alongside it, and used the SketchPad app to scratch in somedefining light and shade. But I forgot and only when my phone had to be restored to an earlier incarnation did it resurface. It is a fair likeness and a reminder to me to draw more.
This is my first attempt at aquatint, which is a process where you erode an etching using different amounts of time immersing it in acid, while protecting elements you want to remain untouched with painted on varnish. You also cover the etching in a fine dust of particles for further texture and definition.
It’s a nice mixture of crazy science and art. Though how successful the outcome you can judge.
Experimenting with printmaking again, with some mixed results:
Limited colour print.
Just a twenty minute sketch in charcoal of a mannequin.
I woke up this morning (no blues though) and saw in the mirror my crazy bed hair sticking up and did a quick sketch in ink on a page of a large notebook already covered in doodles, hence the strange colouration of the chest as it is obscuring an ink drawing of a weird smiling woman.
This is a large (approx 4ft squared) study in acrylic, I wanted to play with visual language.