I try hard to be self critical when it comes to my work, but I try also not to fall in to the trap of comparing my work with someone else's because then I would easily become discouraged. Sometimes though I find myself liking some of the things I did not because I think it's great work but because of the experience of having done it. It was fun, or I painted someone I really care about and preserved a memory that I can look back at. That's the way I feel when I look at the paintings I've done of my parents. My father is gone now, he passed away at 91 years old. He was born in 1916. I only wish I had done more of him. I have some oil sketches and various drawings of him but the charcoal drawing I include here very much reminds me of him.
My mother is still going strong, she was born in 1923, this February 17th she will be 88. I painted and drew here often, she sat for me very patiently since my High School days when I started learning to draw from life. I never tire of painting her and each work is a memory, some done from life and others from photos, but I remember the experience of painting them. It would be nice to get that across in everything I do, the idea that It's not just paint but an experience, a memory. It may not be your own but maybe having had similar experience's it can trigger some of your own memories about your own experience.
|This drawing was done in 1983, my senior year|
in High School. I found the old sketchbook
a short time ago.
|This drawing was also done when I was|
in High School. I wanted to paint her
sewing near a window, ( I was
thinking of those Vermeer paintings
where the subject is posed near a
|Oil sketch of my Dad, also from|
my High School days. He rarely
sat for me but he was always very
patient and accomidating on the
occasions when he did.