I like to paint. I’ve messed around with watercolours for years, sketching from life but never having any actual training. I’m sure my technique is appalling. It wasn’t till my second year of university that I took my first painting class, and it was a revelation. I’ve long talked about how drawing helps me to see things more fully. I’ve also talked about it fixes moments in my memory – how looking at a drawing years later can bring me back to the moment in which I was drawing it – the weather, smells, sounds, the people I was with. But painting taught me to see in a way I’d never seen before. Colour, shape, texture, light and shadow, the endless illusions our eyes create for us. I also learned how to look at art in ways I’d never experienced before. The two painting classes I took enriched my day-to-day life, and improved me as a person – as an observer, a recorder, a witness to the earth – more than perhaps any other classes I took at Princeton.
I didn’t do much painting for the past three years. But recently, I decided to give it a go again.
I painted a portrait of Alex yesterday, working from a photograph. Here’s a rough work-in-progress photo.
I’ve been using up excess paint by making postcards. These were glued onto rectangles of old cereal box cardboard and will soon be mailed out!