Self portrait (I)

Why do so many artists try to make self portraits? I certainly feel this strong pull myself. I think it’s because I am consistently available to myself, I am interesting to me, out of curiosity, out of a desire for self-narration, because art is an investigation, etc. Narcissistic endeavour, some might think, but self-portraits rarely showcase gleaming perfection. 

This reminds me of things I drew as a growing kid, which brings me an odd reassurance. Clearly, it’s through my 40-year old lens; clearly, to me, it’s me now.

I am a tired brown woman who has decided that the solve or antidote to my exasperation, anxiety, and fatigue is to do what I love or find value in with my time as much as possible, and to try to surround myself with what and whom I love. “Imposter” is an artwork that hangs in my studio (note that I don’t accept the word, but I do see it’s impact on myself and other women; it is something inflicted on us, not a syndrome we create). “A Certain Age” is a story I wrote that happened to be published on my 40th birthday. That is one of my dogs, Rumpole, who is a beautiful bag of chaos. In addition:

“Yet before most self-portraits, because of the exclusive complicity existing between the eye observing and the returned gaze, we have a sense of something opaque, a sense of watching the drama of a double-bind which excludes us" (John Berger)

"Inescapably, every portrait is the product of a three-way negotiation between what the subject imagines they look like, the artist’s unstoppable urge to complicate the self-image, and the expectation of whoever ends up living with the result" (Simon Schama)

36x36 inches, acrylic on stretched canvas