I worked on my grandmother’s portrait this morning. I think I’m pretty close to done. There’s still something not right about it though. I can’t wait to get to the point where portraits aren’t so difficult. Does that time come? I feel like someone who’s on the brink of becoming fluent in a second language. I feel like I can see what I’m not seeing if I quiet my mind enough. I think the problem might be the highlights of her eyes, which I haven’t added yet. I need to just sit with it for a while and wait for the insight.
Yesterday I did another self-portrait. This time I was working on a quarter profile view. I got the nose and the eyes proportioned but the mouth and chin are too small in comparison. Today I’ll try it again. It’s sobering to look at yourself a lot. I need to quiet the hurtful voices that want to judge me like I’m posing in front of the paparazzi or something. Why do I do that to myself? How does it happen?
Was there a time when people weren’t so conscious of how they looked? I think my grandmother’s generation was the first to have magazines featuring movie stars. When I was a kid it was celebrities, mostly from the entertainment business. Now it’s whoever can get attention on social media. Influencers.
It breaks my heart to see female actors get plastic surgery. I can remember seeing a video of an actress my age and it looked as if she’d just had lip injections. I doubt she was more than 40 at the time. It sucks because you assume that no one wants to look at women over 40, that somehow we’re a buzz kill. Disgusting, really.
I’m wondering if and when the cycle will break. Apparently it won’t be Gen X that does it. I’m rooting for a female actress to age naturally and still make movies. I realize that it will have to be her that makes the movie featuring her naturally aged face and body, but maybe someone will do it. Maybe we’ll discover how many people out there want to look at older women (I do).
It’s hard to look at oneself no matter what age you are though. I can remember feeling disappointed by my image as a teenager. I’m hoping that as I get older I feel more accepting about how I change. I think what struck me the other day had more to do with my mortality. It’s hard to realize in those small moments that one day I won’t be here, that I’m closer to that time than I was the last time I checked. I don’t know when I last looked at myself that closely. Usually I just check in the mirror, make sure my face and hair are clean, then walk away. But to do a sketch, to capture a likeness, requires a harder look.
My goal as an artist is to look around and see the world around me. To really notice what’s out there. I’m a reporter as such. My goal isn’t to shock or outrage anyone, but rather to tell the story the way I see it, the way I feel it, the way I experience it. I look with my eyes and my body, my soul, if you will. I’m reporting back an emotional, psychological, physical, and spiritual message. Not everyone’s receptive to that, but that’s my goal. That’s my aim. It’s hard to do that honestly if I’m judging myself.