When I first started painting portraits, I was sad. Something precious was missing.
Unlike photography, I hardly get to meet the person I portray. My earliest commissions can be summarised as simply: “Here’s a picture. Paint it.” Maybe you think I’m an artist, and painting is my passion. Painting is NOT my passion.
Painting, to me, is a method, a language, a tool, much like using a camera.
Without an emotional connection with a real human, my work is dead. “Paint a picture.” How cold can it get?
Do not get me wrong. I remain extremely grateful to everyone who gave me a chance. But within that creative process lies an incessant yearning for human warmth. You cannot imagine how grateful it feels whenever someone comes along, and breathes life into my work!
This was one of those moments. I’ve never met them before they collected the painting, but on the phone they were earnest, unpretentious. This was more than a picture, more than just an anniversary gift – a moment in their life together, remembering a journey filled with joy, pain, and hope. They granted me a view into their lives, just a small little window, but through that tiny window shone a ray that lit the canvas with warmth.
When the painting was finally done, I wished, with all my heart, that it would mean something to them for a long, long time. I prayed for the blessing of a meaningful life, and for a passion that wasn’t lived in vain.
20″x16″ Oil on linen
