My biggest painting yet. Oh the joy and the awkwardness!
It didn't start out this way; it began as my biggest painting, but somewhere along the way it became so much more. Let me explain a bit about myself, before I get into it. I'm an oil painter. I paint mostly commissions, and in those precious moments in between, I paint self portraits. Each year for the past three years I've painted large self portraits increasing in size. For the challenge? Because I get bored? Because I don't have room? Because it's getting ridiculously ridiculous? Probably all of the above.
The canvas measured 150 cm by 100 cm, and this was going to be my largest painting yet. It barely fit on the desk in the studio. It was cumbersome and too high, yet painting this big seemed to unlock something. The way the the lines in my face turned abstract and the freedom with which I could apply colour was a revelation. Still, I was not able to see the whole picture (literally). I couldn't stand back to look at it as I don't have the room in my space. I posed awkwardly, climbing on a stool, knocking things down like bags of wellies and old (clean!) socks I use as rags. On a dry day I’d put it outside and stand back and hope it didn’t fall over in the wind again. Notice I said “again”. Weirdly though, I wasn’t really bothered about any of these inconvenient setbacks. That's the thing about painting, even if it seems pointless and ridiculous from the outside, it is worth it’s weight in gold to the inside of the artist.
It started as a close up; eyes, nose and mouth visible. I began by painting details which, yes, is kind of the wrong way around, but hey, it's my painting isn't it and I'll do what I want... That's what was going through my mind at the time, and is precisely the reason I do these projects. It gives me a sense of freedom, of agency, of doing whatever, in any order I please. After the details were done, I took out the big paint brushes. I have to be in the right mood to paint with these. I nearly always paint cheeks with big brushes, the flow of big, broad arm movements and the expanse of the skin fit together naturally for me. However, there was still something missing, something more gentle. I had recently been sorting out a cupboard, and I found a small roller. The kind you paint walls with. I rolled it on my palette and rolled it on the cheek. It used up a lot of oil paint, so that was a minus from a cost perspective, however it was just the effect I was looking for; delicate and skin-like and new to me.
I had finished a good painting, a large painting, a painting that looked like me, a painting I was proud of. But was that it? Was that enough? Could it be more or should I stop? A question most artists ask themselves frequently. And as I sit here writing this, surrounded by large bits of my own face I can tell you that it wasn't it and it just gets more awkward and more joyous. Keep your eyes out for the next little bit on this big painting journey.
