Recent Musings. . .

Portraiture is a fascinating thing.  On the one hand, it is a memory of someone’s prime, when they looked good in a crown or with a scabbard and before they got the vapours.  On the other hand, it is a strange kind of collusion with the artist to fix a point in time that will only cause a whimsical pang to the subject in years to come, when they are no longer that person, no longer an artist’s inspiration.  So I am most attracted to portraits of people I don’t know. People from history, or people who aren’t people, like owls.  I don’t keep snaps of people I love around the house because no one is ever the same from one minute to the next, and I want to see them in the present, an always moving present.  But that’s just my own way of fixing a loved one’s image in my mind forever, albeit one that requires an admiration for the constant dabbling of time’s paints.