Day 1
It is a gloomy day outside. I have a (very) little desk in the nook of my bedroom that is trying to be both an office and a studio. It is sort of winning at this task. But everything on my little desk has to be in motion for it to work. The laptop and cables and cameras and external drive all shift to a separate small, black table to make room for the paper, paint, brushes, pens and pencils. A cup of water that was for drinking and is now for cleaning my brush sits perilously next to a list reminding me of an important interview next week.
I part the pink curtains and crack the window to let both the sun and the smallest amount of winter wind come into the room with me.
I have moved my tech to the small, black table and am ready to work on a painting. I try something new, a large piece of paper on a sketch pad. This is not my usual process book size or texture of paper and my mind works differently to fill it. I want to paint a face but am quite terrible at painting faces. There is a formula, of course, but I don’t want the formula, I want the magic and the weird contours and the offset eyeballs. So, maybe I’m getting what I want. I found a photo of myself, adjusted the shadows and tones until it was strange and sharp and used it for inspiration.
