Portraiture

The following passage is from my journal when I decided this painting was done.

So today I finished 'Portraiture'. I've decided to be proud of it. There's this thrill I get from painting that I can't—or more likely don't want to—explain.

This painting has caused me a lot of anxiety while being a repository for the anxieties of my last few weeks. While I'm incredibly proud of 'Portraiture', I have an insecurity about it that I can't quite shake. Something about this piece makes me want to explain what it is (to me) to anyone who wants to give it any amount of time. I'd originally hoped that titling it 'Portraiture' and not 'Portrait' would clear it up, but sometimes I'm too subtle for my level of execution. I think I want someone to read my mind. Out of vanity, I hate explaining myself. Just look at it. But I'm really terrified that someone will look at it wrong or, more likely, that I'm just not good enough to make my ideas ambiguously unambiguous. So you can see some of my own thoughts when you're ready by highlighting the blank space below:

My answer is that this is not a Self portrait—the ones I've made are titled that—this is a portrait where I'm certainly the model, but I've tried my best to shift my Self into the intended subject. This is a painting depiciting a sitter or a painter. That's why you can't see the action arm. That's why he's either sitting down or standing up. That's why the face is so lightly featured with only a nose—it's the only part of the face that's relatively stationary. The hand is contorted in concentration or discomfort. Even though the relationship has named roles there's really very little difference in their worlds at that moment.

There're other bits, details, and homages I can bore you with. If you want them call me. But please:

Just Look At It.