My face.
Why can't I draw my face?
Because it's too close, too objectified, simplified, twisted up into something we hope it could be-afied.
When you look in the mirror you don't see the physical you but rather the you in which you envision and hope or maybe despise and cut down, it's the you that you've managed to build brick by brick in your little skull between the I wish I could be's and I hope I'm nots and gosh I don't want to look like my Great Aunt Berthas. But through all the gunk, all the magazine model comparisons and Revlon blush blusterings there's a face made of skin and dirt and spit and tears, of hair and teeth of eyes and snot, bones and muscles, oil and nerves. It is this face I tried to find tonight and with a fair amount of difficulty I began to discover bits and pieces. I took those pieces and made them known on sheets of paper with broken stems of charcoal. But I only found bits. I hate my jawline and so I never found it tonight. (Or rather my lackthereof). I love my eyes and so they made themselves known but not easily as I believe it's the eyes that are the toughest to duplicate on the page, how do you take the life they shine and share and place it in a two dimensional realm without stamping out the important glints and glants? The most bizarre moment was when I took a photo of one of the self-portraits I sketched tonight and saw my mother in those eyes. That's when I knew I'd managed okay because I looked beyond my preconceived notions and drew what was in front of me. I knew it because I never think I look like my mother and so to see that in the photo was an interesting moment.
I found an old canvas on the side of the street with a very drab and very faded still life painted on it a few weeks ago. I took it home with the plan to paint over it in some fashion. I've now decided that I want to keep the still life as a part of a new composition. I want to insert my head laying on the table with the previously painted fruits and vases. This is why I'm doing some self-portrait study. It really makes me want to take a figure drawing class too.
So I've been finding other things to paint on over the past few weeks as well. Trash day is my favorite day of the week. Everything that I've found (everything from that old canvas to dresser drawers to discarded frames and bits of furniture) has come from South 4th Street. If I can get myself together I'd like to pitch a show to the Red Hook Cafe on South Fourth, simply titled "Found it On Fourth." I love the idea of it being at a local coffee shop and the found items coming from the area the shop is in. The only other art show I did was at a local coffee shop and for that I am forever grateful and proud and if I ever show again I'd like to keep it in that arena.
So here's a bit of me. It's far from good but that's going to take some work. I have to see myself someday.
