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there's always some part of a portrait that talks back like a little shit kid in the middle of a shit-show circus. there's always some element that, if it were only on point, would read the whole face perfectly. you spend three paint sessions getting the layout, the proportion, the angles, the colors and tones and everything just right and then there's the fourth session. the make or break moment. that's when you find the argument. you spend hour on each separate element of the face. the left eye. the size. the shadows. the highlights. the crease above. arch of the brow. same with the right and their relation to each other. the nose. the bridge. the contours. the nostrils. the mouth. the bow. the shadows. the creases. all these elements should add up to a harmonized face. so rarely they do. one fucking thing.... two fucking things.... three fucking things...(ahhh ahhh ahhhh) are always off. in the case of jill, i have no idea. it's her, but it's not her. IT'S HER BUT IT'S NOT HER!! the shape of the mouth, the title of the head, the chin, the strength in the nose....all argue to me. there's also a disagreement in the tilt of her shoulder where her hand doesn't read in proportion because the crook in her elbow is hidden by the wand. i feel like i took a chance leaving the natural color tones behind and using the more veridian/green/cream tones. i took a chance making her portrait so large that it consumed most of the canvas. i've got less than three weeks to finish and frame this shit. time to stock up on coffee, cigarettes, white wine, and new music. eye twitch, engage. 
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 and then some mornings you inexplicably wake up with the song from pocahontas in your head. before coffee, before shower, before dog belly scratches--i'm up stumbling and humming along to how high the sycamore grows and don't cut it down or whatever. it's streaming inside my brain on malicious repeat. no, not that shitty vanessa williams version--the one from the hit animated disney movie of my young adulthood. it's been a long couple of weeks and i have little to say cuz my brain is fried from awesome. my tarot project is going great--the gofundme is moving along nicely and people and friends are donating toward the most great dream ever. i'm fully cubbied at the generator, i've got the gopro (which i'm still learning how to use), and i'm gonna start time lapsing this week. i've lost 8 pounds on accident over this project. my old dog otis is getting older and sicker by the day. i'm officially the poorest i've ever been in my entire life. i hardly see my boyfriend. the skin on my hands is red and worn and falling off. there is no light at the end of any tunnel... and yet, i'm pretty fucking happy. lessons as of late:  "Rikku"--early image on left, later "overworked" image on right. i just couldn't leave well enough alone.
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Mallory Mishlerwhere i'll post the in's, out's, tween's, and twixt's of my world of art mixed with pictures, links, opinions, and rants. (oh, and curse words. lots of curse words) Archives
September 2018
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