Evolution of a Portrait Subject

These paintings were both done by Joyce Lawrence, of Pineshores Art Association on the Jersey Shore.

The left-most image was painted when I was 22 years old. The painting to the right was done about a year ago, just shy of 25. Believe it or not, both of these images captured my likeness extremely well, despite their looking like two completely different women. 

A downfall for a number of visual artists (and, for some, a creative advantage) is that they do not paint what they see. Rather, they paint what they think they know. 

Joyce is particularly skilled in painting exactly what she senses. Therefore, each painting has its own respective feeling, as well as visual accuracy. The women in these two portraits share the same roots, but they are truly, very different; Physically, emotionally, spiritually, experientially in regards to maturity, and so on. 

It is amazing how young I look in the left portrait, while there is maturity in the right. Joyce has some how captured that 'having seen.' I could have just said 'wisdom,' but this is not quite that. There is 'having seen' in the left, but there is 'having seen and having endured' in the right.

Also, the woman in the right-most portrait bears an enormous resemblance to my mother, while the other resembles the portraits of my grandmother when she was a young child. 

Here are some concluding, but tangential, thoughts for the road.

I'm continually amused by how much influence our current state of being has on our outward appearances. One of my favorite things about living on the road is being a stranger everywhere I go. Many times I am simply an unwitting, perceiving object. I am quiet, observant, and under the radar. Other times, I am more active and engaging.

But it is often an experiment, in that I can wake up and simply be whomever I decide I want to be, so long as I use the appropriate language, and take the appropriate actions. I am not burdened by my story. I am not limited to my past. I am not limited to my degree or my occupation. I do not have to arrive a prewritten character, belonging to a specific family and region, and stained by particular affairs. And I do not have to conform, even to my new environment. If conformity overwhelms, I can simply leave and start over. 

Conversely, one of my favorite things about returning home is just the opposite. After escaping the impositions of being-known, and inserting myself into a vast array of cultures and their respective accents, modes of etiquette, paces of walking, driving, speaking, being... It is a comfort to return home. It ages, but hardly changes.

After months of working long and exhausting hours with every kind of human being there is; After walking aimlessly through deserts, literally grabbing handfuls of rocks like a mental case and stuffing them in my pockets; After eating any and every exotic food that piques my curiosity- and sometimes paying for it; After driving for ten million hours with just my thoughts, and then engaging, far too strongly, in some outlandish conversation with an unassuming stranger; After filling my brain to its maximum capacity...

I return weary, spilling over with all the superfluity I gathered, and I just want to go to sleep as Monique, from Jersey, who has a foul mouth and drives too aggressively. After adequate sleep and a proper meal, it can be refreshing to show up to the world where others know my story. I can do a number of things with that: I can live up to, and even surpass expectations. Better yet, I can overcome and resurrect. And in all the newness, I still know who to call. I know where the best clam chowder is. And I know the way to the ocean. 

*For my $5+ patrons, I have posted some behind the scenes of the portrait session this week.