March Mayhem: Mirror, Mirror

Another Week in the Cast

Okay, I admit it. I'm sitting here tapping my feet, twisting locks of hair, and going a little bit crazy. I look down at  this hard piece of plaster and bandages engulfing my whole left hand except for the thumb (which might be useful except for the fact that it's disconnected from the rest just enough to be in a constant state of paraesthesia). I keep thinking the day I have my painting hand back to full recovery can't come soon enough.

You know what I miss? Washing dishes. Opening a jam jar. Typing with both hands. Buttoning my pants (yes, I've pulled out my entire wardrobe of elastic-waisted bottoms for this week. Real fashionable!). Putting my hair in a ponytail. Applying the perfect sweep of eye liner. I even miss working out (something I never would have admitted to before!). Most of all, I miss the silent daily dialog between me and my work. The paint has dried up on my palette, my blank canvases grow dusty, and my brushes sit unused, like soldiers without an assignment.  

Meanwhile, my projects pile up, as I've put them off for a whole month now. I thought April was going to be a crazy month, but it's almost as though God decided to re-arrange my schedule for me, enforcing an extended time of awkward stillness that even I -- an artist accustomed to long hours of solitude -- am uncomfortable with. The longer I am unable to do things, the more I am rightly forced to dwell on spiritual matters... i.e., not the state of my art (because let's face it... it's on hold right now!), but rather, the state of my soul. If I am struggling with a mere broken finger, I have to ask--how do the sick and dying, paraplegics, cancer-stricken, and weary sufferers of this world make it through each day, without the hope for heaven that I have? This "round two" of wearing a cast and suffering pain and being forced to abstain from my work... has it been yet another test to see where I've placed my true allegiance? Once upon a time, I thought this would be impossible to endure; I lived in fear of hurting my hands or being put in a position where I might not be able to do the things I love. Now that it's happened, I'll be the first to confess that it hasn't been easy, yet God's grace has been abundant, and He is helping me make it through. The moments where I lose sight of Him and start dwelling on me - are when I break down and begin to despair (will it never end?),  but as soon as I go back to God's Word and become reminded of His promises, I have hope once more. There is always hope for those who trust in the Savior.


Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. - Colossians 3:1-2 

Perhaps there's even hope for me as an ambidextrous painter! Ha! In my boredom, I have started yet another right-handed self portrait. This time I experimented with setting up two mirrors so that instead of the typical frontal view, it was a profile. I got very frustrated with myself and my limitations while working on this piece, but the surprising part is that it actually looks like me. Whether or not it's a good painting, I don't know. But at least I got to get my brushes dirty again and spend some much-needed time in the studio.

Double-Mirror Self Portrait with Right Hand, 12x9 - oil on Raymar panel 

The Challenges of Self Portraits (from a mirror, or course!)

American Artist magazine is currently running a cover competition featuring self portraits, so that gave me some incentive to try my hand at, once again, the ever-intimidating self portrait done completely from a mirror.

Some things I learned from the experience this time around:

• You have to cope with the model moving all the time. You'd think that since I look at myself in the mirror everyday, I'd have my features memorized. But this time it felt like I had to learn them all over again, in this specific lighting, under these specific circumstances. The lighting changes everything!
• I asked myself the question: "Do I want to idealize myself or paint me the way I look, in this moment?" True to my classical-realist tendencies, I answered with both. The idealization was unintentional, as it is most of the time when I do a portrait. I have a real empathy for my subjects, especially this one! I also included some of the not so perfect things that make me the way I do... like the dark circles under the eyes, the big chin, and the fact that my mouth is always open when I'm concentrating on a painting!
• You can still squint at yourself as a subject, unless you're working on the eyes. :-)
• You can only look at one eye at a time! So, I had quite the challenge making sure my eyes in the painting weren't focused in two different directions!
• Each self portrait should be different in some way from the last. I wanted this one to include at least one hand (mission accomplished, in natural window light, with the addition of my easel and canvas inside the composition.

Self Portrait by the Window - 15" x 14" - oil on linen

I also realized (and this was completely unplanned) that in my self-portrait and the portrait I'm working on of my husband, we are wearing the same color shirts. Weird. I'll post pictures of that one soon.

Meanwhile, here is a picture from this morning's 2 1/2-hour painting excursion at the Dallas Arboretum. It was absolutely gorgeous out today, and I hope that while the beautiful fall weather lasts, I can make this a weekly thing. There are thousands of pumpkins out there right now, as well as azaleas, roses, and chysanthemums. It's just beautiful!

I may tweak this a little more in my studio, but here is my rendition of the Poetry Garden.

"The Poetry Garden" - plein air painting, in progress