This is a small painting I did today of a boxer’s face that I originally painted at 30 x 40 inches in 2011. Al Delmar was a middleweight boxer in the 1920’s.
At least I have this to show for my week-long bout with illness. Perhaps my desire to move as quickly as I could, but being unable to move at more than a glacial pace, is the reason for this painting’s somewhat frenzied paint application. Or it could just be my usual need to plow forward, tearing myself away from my limiting idea of what a painting must be. One thing I am happy about is that I allowed the paint to create the painting: thoughtful of course, but with healthy doses of spontaneity and serendipity. A very effective prescription.
Her previous girlfriend called her ‘La Reina’, the Queen. I call her ‘Little’. Somewhere between these two poles I am seeking a true(ish) version of Maryanne. This is Maryanne after a few painting sessions. She finally agreed to be painted because, she said, “I won’t take it personally, since you make everyone look …. ” Hmmm. I wonder what she meant.
Yesterday I spent hours looking at the facsimile of The Big Book by W. Eugene Smith. I could relate to the darkness he found in the world and his devotion to its depiction. I could also relate to John Berger’s words about Smith’s mother: “How did the moral drama, which is so integral a part of his photography, first begin for him? Unquestionably, profoundly, and until the end, it began with his mother.”* A detailed review of Smith’s Big Book can be found here.
*Berger, John. Pieta: W. Eugene Smith, The Big Book, Volume 3 Essays and Texts. Austin, University of Texas Press; Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona. 2013.
Worked on this painting again today, while listening to a professor discuss Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past. It is painful to watch my mother get older, and only after listening to the discussion of Proust did I have a greater understanding of what I am feeling.
I am still reeling after finishing Siri Hustvedt‘s novel of the New York art world, The Blazing World. I haven’t organized my thoughts about it yet so can’t discuss it clearly. This review does a pretty good job of summing it up, but my review would also have a great deal of anger directed at the many wrongs the author intelligently depicts. I began this portrait today – it is my portrait of the fighter from the perspective of an angry middle-aged woman, which I am.