Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
What happens when I value others more than myself...
I took some pastel lessons from a really fine, acclaimed artist, who doesn't know anything but his own style. Now I know more than he does, because I know mine AND his. Here is a glammed up self-portrait done in his way, very saturated and smoothed out. Well, it makes me look really young, not a bad thing. He even wanted me to smooth out the hair. Didn't do that. Now, I think this style is admirable, and useful for when I am doing a picky piece, like a floral still life, maybe. He uses sanded paper, which is hard for me because I am so heavy-handed, I make oodles of dust. I am debating putting my glasses on, which would make it much more like me. Oh, well, live and learn. I just keep trying new things, thinking I will stumble upon that which would make me revered and desired and immortal, that would be nice, too.