Hey everyone, I thought I’d give you a little behind-the-scenes look at a project I have been working on lately—a self-portrait. This one’s been quite the adventure, and I decided to take a different approach this time. It all started with a drawing.

Have you ever tried drawing or painting yourself? It's a unique challenge. I mean, drawing humans is always a challenge. But with self-portraits there’s a kicker: no matter how good of a job you do, the result always looks a bit awkward to everyone — but you. Surprising, right? That’s because what we’re used to seeing in the mirror is essentially a reversed version of our face. It’s a silly thing that most of us don’t spend that much time thinking about, but if you don’t believe it try and shake your own hand. The mirror-you extends their left hand.

Now, add that no human face is perfectly symmetrical. In fact, most of us have pretty quirky features. These asymmetries are part of what makes our faces recognizable to others. So, when people see your self-portrait based on your mirror image, it can look uncanny to them.

For a profile you need at least two mirrors, which gives you a ”correct” mirror image of you, so that’s a bonus. Right? Normally it is. But when you need to settle the dilemma of having one particular side of your face in the picture, and want it to look the other way — after drawing is done… then you’re back to square one. The irony.

Now, enough of mirrors, there’s a part of my process I didn’t document—mainly because I had too much fun and I was too engrossed to stop and take notes. For this project I had an idea to build texture before I even got started. After having mirrored (!) the drawing and transfered it onto the canvas, I spent several weeks painting with white paint only, on a white canvas. This technique allowed me to build texture and focus solely on form without worrying about light and shadow. It was very weird in the beginning, almost like painting blindfolded, but after a while I got used to it. Our brains are fantastic at adapting.

I spent a few days painting normally on top, with the usual drying times in between. At that point I was very happy with the underlying structure carrying so much form, allowing for transparent layers to add sense of light. But something wasn’t quite right, so I decided to let it rest for a while. (I also had to focus on some other projects, as it goes.)

About a year later, I picked it up again. With fresh eyes, I made the necessary—and now obvious—corrections. I fixed the drawing, changed the shirt (that now has a form/structure underlayer, like the face had), and worked on the deep, abysmal black. Originally, I had different plans for the background, but thankfully I took a break and came back with a better idea.

In summary, my self-portrait project has been a journey of exploration and patience. From starting with a simple drawing, experimenting with white on white textures, and letting the piece rest when something didn’t feel right, I’ve learned a lot. Picking it up again after a year allowed me to see the necessary corrections and make improvements, leading to a piece that I’m now excited to push further.

Reflecting on this experience, it's clear that some projects can reveal new approaches if we give them time. While deadlines are often beneficial, creating space for trying, failing, and revisiting work is essential for growth and innovation. This balance between structure and freedom allows for true creativity to flourish.

Thanks for reading and for your ongoing support. I appreciate each and every one of you.

/a

Hey everyone, I thought I’d give you a little behind-the-scenes look at a project I have been working on lately—a self-portrait. This one’s been quite the adventure, and I decided to take a different approach this time. It all started with a drawing.

Have you ever tried drawing or painting yourself? It's a unique challenge. I mean, drawing humans is always a challenge. But with self-portraits there’s a kicker: no matter how good of a job you do, the result always looks a bit awkward to everyone — but you. Surprising, right? That’s because what we’re used to seeing in the mirror is essentially a reversed version of our face. It’s a silly thing that most of us don’t spend that much time thinking about, but if you don’t believe it try and shake your own hand. The mirror-you extends their left hand.

Now, add that no human face is perfectly symmetrical. In fact, most of us have pretty quirky features. These asymmetries are part of what makes our faces recognizable to others. So, when people see your self-portrait based on your mirror image, it can look uncanny to them.

For a profile you need at least two mirrors, which gives you a ”correct” mirror image of you, so that’s a bonus. Right? Normally it is. But when you need to settle the dilemma of having one particular side of your face in the picture, and want it to look the other way — after drawing is done… then you’re back to square one. The irony.

Now, enough of mirrors, there’s a part of my process I didn’t document—mainly because I had too much fun and I was too engrossed to stop and take notes. For this project I had an idea to build texture before I even got started. After having mirrored (!) the drawing and transfered it onto the canvas, I spent several weeks painting with white paint only, on a white canvas. This technique allowed me to build texture and focus solely on form without worrying about light and shadow. It was very weird in the beginning, almost like painting blindfolded, but after a while I got used to it. Our brains are fantastic at adapting.

I spent a few days painting normally on top, with the usual drying times in between. At that point I was very happy with the underlying structure carrying so much form, allowing for transparent layers to add sense of light. But something wasn’t quite right, so I decided to let it rest for a while. (I also had to focus on some other projects, as it goes.)

About a year later, I picked it up again. With fresh eyes, I made the necessary—and now obvious—corrections. I fixed the drawing, changed the shirt (that now has a form/structure underlayer, like the face had), and worked on the deep, abysmal black. Originally, I had different plans for the background, but thankfully I took a break and came back with a better idea.

In summary, my self-portrait project has been a journey of exploration and patience. From starting with a simple drawing, experimenting with white on white textures, and letting the piece rest when something didn’t feel right, I’ve learned a lot. Picking it up again after a year allowed me to see the necessary corrections and make improvements, leading to a piece that I’m now excited to push further.

Reflecting on this experience, it's clear that some projects can reveal new approaches if we give them time. While deadlines are often beneficial, creating space for trying, failing, and revisiting work is essential for growth and innovation. This balance between structure and freedom allows for true creativity to flourish.

Thanks for reading and for your ongoing support. I appreciate each and every one of you.

/a