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I’m painting alongside my students in the portrait class I teach on Mondays.  And so today, an hour or so into working I put the tattoos in.  Margaret laughs when I bring home paintings of tattooed people.  She says that I am too squeamish to get a tattoo, myself, and so I vicariously live out my secret desire for tatoos by painting people like Dan.  She might be right.  James Fenimore Cooper wrote his powerful series of books about early, raw America, while living safely in the confines of genteel Paris- books like the Last of the Mohicans and the Deerslayer.  Pretty funny.

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Two hours in, day two, and creeping up on the likeness. Paint still thin, a bit timid, as light is yet to come.

imageSearching for more light.  Slathering it on like the spackler that I yam.

imageI’m really learning how to paint with paint, for paint’s sake.  If I do say so myself, this painting glows from a distance, and is enjoyable up close.  I really feel that I’ve been growing as a painter these past months.

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