Portraits of Imaginary Friends and Other Impulses

I was thinking about the changes in my art specially the portraits in the last few years. There was a drastic change when my gallery closed where I moved away from the portraits for a while, focusing on my dreamy figurative paintings coming out of washes of colors. The gallery closing was traumatic for me, but wound up being the best thing for myself and my art. When I started back to painting portraits again, they had lost a simple wide eye innocence. They are uglier now; more interesting; a nose that demands respect or a mouth that will not be disregarded, eyes that are meant for more than twinkling. My faces before were fun and playful and some still are but I think they are more demanding now. I am consider perhaps how each one may have represented in some way the trope of the manic pixie dream girl that I too have too often been considered the quintessential example of by those who know me well.  This no longer feels like who I am or what my art should be.  As art mirrors life, so life mirrors art, and I find myself turning  uglier and more interesting to myself in the most beautiful ways.

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