Because most of my paintings are some kind of self-portrait, I often paint artists. This painter was sitting in her chair pondering or daydreaming, but why? I couldn’t figure this one out. So, back to my basket of scraps, I went. I found this man whom I had cut from a different painting. I stitched him into her arms, and a story emerged. I tried many, many times to get her to smile. She wasn’t having it! I know that she is/was in love with the man in this portrait. The rest of the story is for you to tell.
Love, A Portrait