I can't find my lipstick...
I've always had conflicted feelings about how I look.
How much I weigh, how my hair is, etc..
I never wanted anyone to know I was fussed about it, but secretly I was.
And like many of us, I learned to fake it on the outside, when I felt like crap on the inside. Something I got so good at, I lost touch.
Self portraits grab me. Painting them teaches me.
I'm captivated by the look in those eyes.
Something quite intense happens in the eyes of a self portrait.
A longing for connection, to be seen.
The artist is looking so intensely at us, outward it seems.
An illusion, because what the artist is really looking at
is a reflection, intensely inward.
This play with the inside and outside self captivates as
we recognize the game.
There is also an element of intimacy as we look into the eyes.
Are we seeing the artist's soul?
All the while, we are aware that self portraiture is also performance.
What is the artist hiding or exaggerating?
I found myself reaching for the lipstick before taking photos today.
Something, I rarely do. Unless I am going out.
I see my face aging and know I can't stop time's dutiful march.
I don't really want to. I like the grey, I like the wrinkles.
Yet I do feel a little loss when I think of the years that I could not look myself
lovingly in the eye when I was younger.
I am learning to now though, through the art of self portraiture.