In one of those very annoying glitches, I’ve just found the post I’d drafted for today with its innumerable links and references (yes, seriously) did not save in my phone.
I sat in my studio feeling as you do when you’ve lost an hour’s work. I reminded myself that quick rewrites after the initial work has been done are usually better: more concise, incisive, etc, etc, etc. As the King of Siam might have said.
But I have no time now to rewrite that particular post with all its links and references.
My eye instead fell upon old work I recently had framed to put in some redecorated bedrooms. Finding something old and seeing it afresh is always interesting.
These portrait studies of Prodigal Son and Eldest Daughter were done at least 12 years ago, I think. I remember well the afternoon in my studio. I promised them they would only have to sit still for ten minutes. I promised them I would not shout if they moved.
I seem to recall I premixed a few colours, positioned the kids, and painted as quickly as I could. Both were unhappy and unwilling models. I think this shows all too clearly in their mardy looks. They look as though they’ve just been charged with crimes.
I never managed to quite finish Eldest Daughter’s right eye. And Prodigal Son looks as though he could do with a good scrub thanks to the slightly uneven tone.
But I like to think when they both return home to the mother ship to their newly redecorated rooms and see these new wall adornments, they will regret their refusal to sit any longer all those years ago and will wish they had assumed a rather more joyful look.
And I will tell them that’s exactly what they were like, sometimes.