One of my bestest friends in high school and I used to be inseparable. We worked together, were at school together, got into trouble together, even skipped school together (1 time, mom, I swear!!). When I would be over at her house, I would always wander into her dad's office and look at a series of black and white photos of her mother taken in the 70s. Her angular jaw, the curve of her body as she sat, the casual placement of her hand, and even the totally cool furniture in the photograph...all of it just drew me in repeatedly. I would tell myself, "someday I'm going to paint that." I finally summoned enough courage to ask to take the photos home and sketch from them. I worked on this painting almost all of my junior year in college (yes, it took me that long to feel like I had enough practice and could actually make it into the painting I'd imagined), and I felt so accomplished once I'd finished it. Even though it's been three years, I still take time to stare at it, see into those deep eyes, sweep across her movement and imagine the story the painting tells. This painting, in my opinion, represents when I found my "style" and really felt the power behind painting.
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