It was a realllllllly nice kiss.
This piece – well – it is the first and still the only time i have painted or drawn myself looking beautiful; and not deformed by my life, my raging searing heart. The girl I was kissing hurt me, ah well ah hell…
Again I choose to force beauty from what could sour with pain and rage.
Then I learned a little by drawing this…
i believe that we wear our sins. that we are formed by our love or hatred. our features cannot help but follow the curl of sneer; furrows of a bitter mouth. laugh lines are called that for a REASON. we are made beautiful as we age by WHO WE ARE – picture of dorian grey, yes? oscar wilde?
at least i like to think so
And as I drew this I realised that this was true of my own image, my own features. I was shocked when I looked at this painting on my easel, knowing its adherence to the photograph from when it grew…
It was a nice shock. It is so hard to see ourselves sometimes.
It is hard, always, to truly look.
I hope I remain beautiful, in my heart. I hope that my smiles curve and crinkle the lines around my eyes.
I hope for deep, craggy LAUGH LINES furrowing my skin, delighted at life as I age, and made beautiful at that very delight.
Charcoal and chalk