Wednesday, August 3, 2011

God notices.

I woke up thinking about a lot of things. One of which was this woman who graciously let me take her picture last year when I went to the DR. Someone translated for me what she said after I snapped the photo. "Now that you have me in there (the camera), you have to take me with you." I don't know if she meant that literally, or figuratively, but she did not realize that her words would stay with me.
I took her photo because I noticed her. I thought that she was beautiful. Her hair and skin, her simplicity. Mostly her eyes. I think about this image- a split second of her life- and I feel compelled to paint her. I am procrastinating because I stink at portraits, and because I don't want to fail (her). But, eventually I hope to gain enough skill, and courage.
So, she was in my thoughts again this morning. And I realized that one of the reasons I am so bad at remembering conversations may be because I am noticing things other than what is said with words. Like the way the light is falling across a cheek, or the transparency of a cornea, or the contour of an earlobe and the shadow it has cast on the neck. Yes, it's true. And as I am noticing those things, I am wondering how to represent them with a brush- what mix of colors is that skin tone? Would I paint that in a thin wash, or with a bit more paint? No kidding...I realized 3/4 of the way through a construction zone the other day that I was even in one. I had been "painting" the cumulous clouds- actually I was REpainting these new ones onto a failed painting from last week...So at some point, when I "came to" and realized I was in a construction zone, it was a little freaky. I laughed! All this to say...God has created me and built me and wired me a particular way. And He has implanted in me some of what makes Him...well, Him. He notices everything, everyone. (Ok...He would have known that He was in a construction zone). There is nothing that escapes His notice. Not even our suffering- what grieves us, grieves Him. When I feel anxious, He is saying "Cast your cares upon Me".  He hears. And He sees.

1 comment:

  1. I don't mean to disregard your thoughts, but I prefer to comment on your art before re-seeing it through your eyes, if your text inclines me to do so.

    There's so much to love about this portrait! The black and white of the walls behind her and her shirt, skin, and the shadows in her beautifully aged face. The texture of the wood siding, the texture of her skin. The gentle, odd scoop of that wooden piece behind her and the same scoop in her shirt...crooked, a bit. Her gentle, wise eyes and bit of smile. I'd love to see this print in person to see the more subtle play of light on it all. I think this should be printed on fiber paper to really bring it all out.