Several years before painting this, I was hiking when the memory surfaced: I needed to paint that photo of myself—nearly 35, lying on a wall at my mother’s cousin Jacinta’s house in Croatia. No one remembers who took it, and I don’t remember lying down like that. Strange behavior for a first visit with a relative—but there it was.
The light in the photo made the skin on my arm glow. I thought, “That young woman had no idea how lovely her body was.” None. So I painted her—to honor that body, and her.
The process was wonder-full. I watched myself perform the craft: colors forming contours, clothing, limbs. And all the while, realizing—this is me. My ankle. My toes. My eyebrow.
There are no guarantees in art, but I’m happy with how it turned out. It was fun painting jean shorts—never had the occasion before! And looking at the finished piece, I can feel that body—lighter, more lithe than the one I’m in now. (It was over 20 years ago!) Still, it’s lovely. I made myself real to myself in a way I’ve never experienced.
I’m amazed by the luck of having this photo—taken after six months in Paris, on the island of my grandparents’ birth, newly divorced, relaxed and at peace.
To be able to create this—what a gift. I’ve never felt more grateful to be an artist.
October 2018 -22″x30″ – Watercolor on Paper